Page 21 of Merry Little Hate Notes

“That’s it. Back to work,” Camille barked. “I’ll send out a list via Slack later today with the rest of the exercises so you and your partner can prepare.”

Everyone dispersed but Brandon and me. I was in too much of adaze to move, feeling likeThe Nightmare Before Christmashad come to life. It was one thing to have to work with Brandon. But no way was I getting all cutesy and Christmassy with him. Not when he’d stolen part of my Christmas soul.

“What do you want to do about Friday?” Brandon had the gall to ask, sounding as unexcited as I felt regarding this development.

“Given our history,” I said for his ears only, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out without me.”

He stepped closer, his eyes owning mine and searing right into me. “If you believe that, you don’t remember our history.” Then he stalked off, leaving me speechless.

I just stood there frozen, his words paralyzing me. He was right. I didn’t want to remember our history because it ended with him walking out of my life and taking part of me with him.

BRANDON

I WATCHED IN HORROR AS my mom lurked in the foyer, waiting for Holly to walk into work Friday morning. There was no talking her out of it, no matter how many times I told her Holly wanted no part of these team-building exercises—that my wingman had talked my dad into implementing. When Camille announced it Wednesday, I had no doubt who was behind all the holiday cheer in the office. Each day’s exercise was a play right out of Holly’s old holiday handbook—everything from decorating cookies and building gingerbread houses to a holiday Pictionary tournament. And it didn’t matter to Mom that I’d been right about themerry little sticky noteincident. She was still pressing forward as my wingman. Unfortunately, that meant matching Christmas sweaters for Holly and me, although I was certain Holly wouldn’t wear hers.

And I wouldn’t blame her. I looked down at the monstrosity Mom had forced me into. The sweater, wrapped in silver garland and real blinking lights, with ornaments dangling from it, was a crime against nature. Mom had guilted me into it, saying she’d had them custom made. It disturbed me that someone would purposely make something like this.

More disturbing was how Mom was going to embarrass me as soon as Holly walked through the door. No matter howmany times I’d told her Holly hated me, and that this was a hopeless endeavor, she refused to believe it. Mom said if Holly were indifferent, she’d be worried. But hate we could work with.

Holly wasn’t indifferent, even though she was trying her best to appear so. Her words on Wednesday about our history together wouldn’t leave me. I heard the hurt in her voice, and it made me feel like the world’s biggest jerk. I didn’t care that I’d been eighteen. What I did to her was inexcusable.

I used to blame Christian for telling her it was a dare. But I knew I would have let her go either way. I should have at least been man enough to tell her and Christian the truth. I wanted that opportunity now, but I didn’t think there was a chance in hell she’d believe me.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” Mom warned.

I stopped and looked down at my shoes, not even realizing I’d been pacing.

“Just relax.” Mom smiled.

“You have no idea what you’re up against.” Holly wasn’t pleased about all this forced office holiday cheer.

Mom laughed. “Oh please, Bran. I know the girl better than you do. I know exactly whatyou’reup against. Mark my words, our Holly is going to show up in grand fashion. You just keep doing what I tell you.”

I looked around to make sure we were still the only ones in the foyer. “If I’d listened to you about the merry little sticky notes, it would have been game over. She refuses to even look at Jason now because she thinks those notes were from him.” Not that I was complaining—it had worked in my favor. Jason was a bad-smelling clown who needed to keep his eyes to himself.

Mom waved her hand around, refusing to acknowledge she was wrong. “Believe me, she would have made an exception for you. You’re so handsome.”

“You can’t claim that while I’m wearing this sweater.”

Mom laughed. “You’re going to be so cute next to Holly. I’m going to have to take a picture.”

I threw my head back and groaned. This is why you shouldn’t let your mother be your wingman.

While I was silently lamenting my situation, in walked Holly, just like my teenage fantasies. Her hair was down in loose wavy curls, and under her coat she was wearing a tight red sweater that I had no doubt would nicely accentuate her perfect curves. For that reason alone, I hoped Holly said no to my mother about the ugly Christmas sweater. It would be a shame to cover up what she had going on. I knew my mom’s heart was in the right place, but she couldn’t force Holly or me to catch the holiday spirit.

That said, just being near Holly had me feeling things I hadn’t in years. She had me wanting to cuddle up on the couch with her and watch all her holiday favorites. Or at least have them play in the background while I showed her how much I wanted her—how much I’d always wanted her.

“Holly, honey.” Mom held her arms out, clinging to the designer bag that held the hideous sweater. “How are you?”

Holly was smart enough to look wary of my mother’s presence. It probably didn’t help that I was in her line of sight, although I thought I detected a hint of a smile on her gorgeous face when she noticed what I was wearing. But she avoided any eye contact with me.

“Hi, Lauren.” Holly fell into my mother’s arms and clung to her as if she needed a good motherly hug.

It made me all the more curious about what had happened between Holly and her mom. They used to be so close. It seemed impossible that they had become estranged—Holly had been her mini-me and was proud of it. Being a lawyer was all Holly ever wanted. That, and to marry Zac Efron, which was why I had lamely styled my hair like his during my junior and senior year. Those damn swooping bangs were always getting in my eyes.

“Darling girl.” Mom wrapped Holly up tight. “You look as lovely as ever.”

Holly lifted her head off Mom’s shoulder and glared at me. “Some people might not agree with you.”

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