Page 55 of Merry Little Hate Notes

“She got quiet. She would hardly look at me or talk to me. Every time I tried to bring up what I’d seen, she would get defensive and tell me I just needed to let it go. That I didn’t know what I was talking about. She had enough to deal with, she would say. Meanwhile, I was trying to cope with Christian’s death and her betrayal, all while watching my father fall apart. I think, in the end, the guilt got to her and she left. But she used the excuse of my dad’s drinking.”

“So she left you to pick up the pieces?” What the hell? “Do you have any contact with her?”

“Not for a long time. For a few years after the divorce, she would call once in a while to check up on me and to ask if I needed any money. My pride always said no. They weren’t pleasant calls. I was angry and scared, and I lashed out. I felt like she was gaslighting me.”

“She was.” I was angry on Holly’s behalf. “Did she know what you were going through?”

“I’m sure she did, which probably made her feel even more guilty. Eventually she stopped trying, and I did my best to stop loving her, but I’ve failed miserably,” she choked out. “Sometimes I miss her so much, even more than Christian. I think it’s because he didn’t purposely leave me. And sometimes I wonder if my mom was ever the person I had once thought I wanted to be like more than anyone in the world.”

Ah. Now it made sense why Holly hadn’t become a lawyer. It wasn’t because she’d been trying to save her dad, although I’m sure that played a part. But her hero had betrayed her.

I stroked her hair, holding her head against my chest, wishing I could take away her pain. “Holly, I’m so sorry you felt like you had to keep this to yourself all these years. I should have been there for you.”

“You should have been,” she said with no ill intent, just a deep hurt. “I would have liked that.”

It was official—I was the world’s biggest prick. How was I ever going to tell her that I’d lied to her too?

HOLLY

“I’M JUST CHECKING TO MAKE sure you’re still alive,” I informed Carmen as I walked across the parking lot into work on Monday morning. The blustery air whipped at my cheeks, reminding me that winter was here to stay and Christmas was just two weeks away. It felt weird that I was checking in with Carmen after a busy weekend. For years, when it felt like I had no life, it had been the other way around. Not that I hadn’t texted her in the last few days, but I needed verbal confirmation she was okay and hadn’t become a victim of Mr. Light and Love.

“Of course I am,” she laughed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, after leaving you to enter Marco’s love mobile, I just wanted to be one hundred percent sure it’s you I’ve been communicating with.”

“Yes, it’s me, silly. And just in case you’re worried, we only talked.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

She tittered mischievously. “Okay, so maybe it was a little more than talking. He’s so amazing.”

I didn’t want to rain on her parade, but I had to agree with Brandon on this—he thought Marco was a phony. Sure, the guy was an incredible yoga instructor, but something was off about him. “Are yousure?” I asked, cautiously.

“Uh, yeah. You didn’t like him?”

“I hardly got to talk to him. It just worries me that he seems to love the attention of all the ladies. You don’t want another Tiger Eyes situation, do you?”

“Marco’s nothing like that pig. Marco is enlightened and on a spiritual journey.”

I bet he felt enlightened. More like spiritually aware of his own sexual prowess. But who was I to judge? I was dating a man who’d made me believe a lie for almost half my life. “Just be careful and promise me you won’t decide to take your love on tour around the country in his motor home.”

“That’s definitely not happening. As much as I can’t wait for my parents’ heads to explode when they meet him, I have standards. One being that I need a bathroom that’s bigger than a closet.”

This was true about Carmen. She was a creature of comfort, and as much as she liked to disappoint her parents, she loved living the kind of life her parents had always afforded her. This made me feel better. “I’m glad you’re thinking straight,” I teased her.

“Oh, ha ha. Honestly, you don’t have anything to worry about. I know Marco isn’t the one. Speaking ofthe one. How goes it with Brandon?”

“I’m not sure Brandon is the one either,” I whispered as I walked into the building and up the stairs to the third floor. I also wasn’t sure he wasn’t, but I didn’t want to say that out loud. It scared me a little how connected to him I felt, like we were a part of each other.

“Please. I think you’ve known he’s the one since before I met you. There’s always been something between you.” She wasn’t wrong.

“Well, if you must know, we spent most of the weekend together and we got a Christmas tree.” Then I went on to tell him about the tragedy of my life. I hadn’t planned on that, but it had felt so good to share it with someone else and acknowledge the pain it had caused. Even better was the way Brandon held me and, like always, did his best to make me feel better. He had a magic touch. Although, I think my story freaked him out a little bit. He seemed to gaze thoughtfully at me often on Saturday and Sunday while we drove around looking at Christmas lights, making cookies, or even watching some of myholiday favorites—While You Were Sleeping, which Brandon finds creepy, andElf, Christian’s favorite. Not to say Brandon wasn’t wonderful and affectionate, always holding my hand or wrapping me up and letting me snuggle into his chest. But no kissing, which was a bummer. It’s just that I got the feeling I’d worried him or something.

“Shut the front door! Holly Hollydays is back.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say that, but I’m working on it.”

“I’m so proud of you, chica. We need to do a yoga date soon so you can catch me up on Brandon and so we can look for an apartment together.”

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