Page 33 of Merry Little Hate Notes

My saving grace came from a knock on the door. “I’ll get it. It’s probably the pizza.” I stood and walked over to the door, feeling more and more like Will Smith’s character inHitch. I had zero game when it came to Holly. But maybe that was it—I knew it wasn’t a game. It never had been with her.

“I can’t believe they deliver in this weather,” Holly commented.

“I’m sure they’re used to it.” To prove my point, I opened the door to find a guy in shorts wearing a parka and a beanie. Only in Colorado.

“What’s up, man? Are you Brandon Cassidy?” The delivery guy pulled the pizza out of an insulated food carrier.

“That’s me.”

“Awesome. Just sign the receipt on top.”

I took the pen resting on the pizza box and added a good tip before signing the receipt.

The delivery guy grabbed the pen and receipt and handed me thepizza box that smelled of oregano and homemade bread. “Thank you. Drive safe.”

“Thanks for the tip, man. Have a good night.”

That was the plan. I shut the door and turned to find Holly throwing off her blanket. “Just relax. I’ll grab some plates. What do you want to drink?”

She pressed her lips together, unsure of me.

“I promise not to sabotage your drink. I don’t have any Mentos or Alka-Seltzer with me.”

She offered me a small smile. “I still can’t believe you guys froze Mentos in my ice cubes. You totally ruined my favorite dress.”

“Sorry about that.” I headed for the open kitchen off the living room, holding back my laughter. The surprise on her face when those Mentos hit her Coke was priceless.

“I don’t think you’re that sorry.”

“Maybe not for that,” I conceded. “Christian and I plotted that one for a long time and waited for the perfect moment to enact our plan.” It was odd how easily I could say his name in front of her.

“You guys were such idiots.”

“Yeah, we were,” I sighed. “I miss him.”

“Me too,” her voice cracked. “Sometimes I visit his grave just to yell at him for leaving. I don’t know why I’m telling you that.” She wiped her eyes.

I set the pizza on the counter. “Because I know better than anyone how you feel. I’m still so angry with him, I can’t seem to bring myself to visit his grave. Watching his casket lowered into the ground was the worst day of my life.” I could still feel the punch of it and how surreal it felt while experiencing the most real thing to ever happen to me.

Holly nodded. “Mine too,” she whispered. “You should go there. I know he would want you to. And ... yelling at him is very therapeutic.” She smiled through her tears.

I chuckled. “Maybe I’ll have to try that while I’m in town.”

She tilted her head and studied me for a moment. “Do you like living in North Carolina?”

I opened the pizza box and grabbed some plates. “It’s all right. I own a nice townhome near Strawberry Hill, not too far from the office.I’m just a few hours away from some great beaches. And you can’t beat southern hospitality, but ...”

“It’s not home,” she read my mind.

“No. It’s not.”

“So why don’t you come home?”

I inhaled and exhaled slowly, considering my next words. “Because home haunts me.”

“Oh.” She seemed at a loss for words.

“I only have myself to blame.” I shrugged, throwing a couple of slices on each of our plates.

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