Page 26 of Merry Little Hate Notes

“No,” I was quick to answer, even though so much of what had changed me stemmed from losing Christian. But it didn’t directly cause my fear of wintry roads and so many other things in my life. “Anyway.” We needed a change of subject stat. “Camille reminded me on Friday that we aren’t off the hook for today’s team-building exercise. She said we could record our holiday karaoke song and send it to her.”

Brandon groaned, sounding as thrilled as I was about the supposedly festive activity. “All right. What song should we sing? ‘Holly Jolly Christmas’?’” He smirked at me.

I rolled my eyes, thinking of all the times Brandon and Christian would mockingly sing that song to me during the holidays.

Brandon laughed. “So, no ‘Holly Jolly Christmas’? It’s the best timeofheryear,” he teased me.

I couldn’t help but smile. I hadn’t heard that line in a long time. Unfortunately, it gave my mouth permission to speak before I could think. “It’s not anymore.” I threw a hand over my mouth. What was wrong with me? Might as well just fill him in on my entire life since he’d left and get it over with.

Brandon didn’t help matters when he rested his warm, masculine hand on my thigh, sending my body into a tizzy of electricity. “Maybe this year will be different.”

“Maybe,” I stuttered out, still feeling the buzz of his touch. Dad was still hoping we could get a tree, and I hadn’t outright said no yet. And I had worn the ugliest of Christmas sweaters, although we didn’t win. I was a little salty about it, considering the winners’ sweaters were cute and not ugly. The bathroom ladies totally thought we got robbed. Which kind of had me wanting to rock our karaoke song and get some vindication. But that meant allowing more memories to surface. And while old me was a fun girl, she was much too idealistic and naïve.

First, before I did anything else, I needed to breathe and probably remove Brandon’s hand from my leg. But it looked kind of nice resting there. Oh. My. Gosh. What was wrong with me? The man thought I had RGF and a November face and that I was a Krispy Kringle with my tinsel in a tangle. So why was he being so nice to me? And why wasn’t I removing his hand? This was a serious question. A better question would be, why didn’t it repulse him to touch me?

Then without warning, a mother of a memory hit me, and I almost blurted, “Remember when we rode Tower of Terror and I wasn’t so sure about it and you kept your hand on my thigh just like you are now, telling me it would all be okay, even fun? Then I grabbed your hand, and you squeezed mine tight the entire ride while I screamed my head off every time we dropped. But it was so much fun, we rode it three more times. Well, mostly because I just wanted you to keep holding my hand.”

Thankfully, those words didn’t see the light of day. But the feelings lingered.

To my relief, Brandon popped his hand off my thigh and placed it back on the steering wheel where it belonged.

“If not ‘Holly Jolly Christmas,’ then what?” he asked. “‘Deck the Halls with Boughs of Holly?’” He laughed his charming laugh.

“No songs withHolly.”

“I don’t know. It could work in our favor.” He smiled.

I didn’t agree. But old Holly had a thought. Perhaps even a good thought, but I feared it as well because too many doors were opening to old memories, and it felt kind of magical. Memories and magic came with frightening consequences. But old Holly wouldn’t let it go. “What if we did ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’ but we made the days pertaining to the office?”

“Hmm.” Brandon thought. “It could work. What you got, Holly-Pops?” he said so cockily, I couldn’t help but say ...

“How’s this? On the first day of Christmas, Elevate gave to me an egotistical account executive.”

“That’s pretty good. Except ... I’m not egotistical. I’m just good at what I do.”

“You’re right. That doesn’t sound egotistical at all.” I laughed.

He glanced my way with a soft expression. “I like your laugh, Holly. Always have.”

I bit my lip. He was confusing me. Why was he being so nice all of a sudden? Especially when I knew darn well he was probably mentally composing all the hate notes he could deliver. I almost brought up the notes he’d already left me, but that would show I cared about them. And it might force me to cross over and start returning the notes. I happened to have those holiday sticky notes in my bag just itching to be used, but I was still refusing to lower myself to Brandon’s level, even if I had a slew of insults in my mind, waiting to be penned. I wanted to throw this Shakespeare gem at him:Thou sodden-witted lord! Thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows.

“Are you just trying to make sure I don’t foul up the presentation with Artemis?” I asked, not knowing what to do with his kind words. Mostly not knowing if I could trust them. I’d been here with him before. Which was a good reminder that he was an excellent actor.

“I’m not worried in the least. You got this.”

What was he doing? He was supposed to say something sarcastic.

“I hope so,” I breathed out.

“I’ve known no one as determined as you. You’re going to close this deal.”

This was getting more and more bizarre. A nice Brandon was a suspicious Brandon. “All right, well, we’d better write this song,” I said in a pitchy voice I barely recognized. “We have to turn it in before noon.”

“I’m vetoing that first day idea.” He grinned.

“Fine,” I faux complained. “We need to think of funny or maybe even annoying office situations or practices.”

“Like these team-building exercises?” Brandon quipped.

---