Page 50 of Merry Little Hate Notes

If she only knew how that simple act made my heart race.

“We should probably listen to some Christmas music. It was always a tradition when we picked out a tree.” The cadence of her voice pitched higher.

“I remember. You always insisted it had to be the Carpenters.” Proud of myself for remembering that fact, I removed my hand from beneath hers and pushed a button on the in-dash screen. Karen Carpenter’s soothing tones singing “The Christmas Song” filled the car.

“Brandon,” Holly choked out. “You ... Um ... I don’t know what to say.”

The look on her face was priceless to me. “You don’t have to say anything. Just sing along.”

“Are you going to make fun of me, like you and Christian always used to?”

I shook my head. “I’m not that boy anymore.”

“He wasn’t all that bad.” She smiled with tears in her eyes.

“He wasn’t as good as he should have been, either. He should have told you how much he liked it when you would sing.”

“You did?”

I nodded. “I did.” She had a velvety alto singing voice that did me in.

She flashed me a toothy grin. “I’ll sing along, but you have to sing too.”

“You don’t want me to ruin it.”

Holly reached for my hand and held it between her own shaking palms. “Please do this with me.” She said the magic words.

I would do anything she asked of me, even if it meant singing off-key and ruining a perfectly good song. I curled my fingers around hers and butchered the song, but Holly more than made up for it. With every word she belted out, Christmas made its way in. I had to admit my wingman was right about the way to find my Christmas. Watching Holly discover the holiday spirit once again helped me not only see it, but feel it too.

It took us almost the entire Carpenters’ Christmas album to make it to the tree farm and mini golf course. Friday-night traffic was a beast,but I hardly noticed it. Something about being with Holly made time stop and race all at the same time. She’d always had that effect.

We pulled into the gravel parking lot that appeared completely full.

“This place is hopping. Who knew a mini golf Christmas tree farm would be so popular?” Holly said.

“Christian would have loved it,” I said his name without thinking. Odd how easy it was. I still felt the pang of his absence, but Holly lessened the sting of it.

“Yeah, he would have. But he totally would have ditched me for the first cute girl he met.” She tilted her head and thoughtfully gazed at me. “Thank you for making sure I was never alone in those situations.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I always enjoyed it.” In fact, I prayed for them—little pockets of time where I would torture myself, trying to figure out a way to keep both the girl I loved and my best friend in my life.

“Even if I screamed my head off on the Tower of Terror?”

“I especially enjoyed that.” That trip to Disneyland the summer before I screwed everything up was one of the highlights of my life. Two days of mostly just Holly and me.

“Hopefully, I won’t be screaming tonight. But I will be kicking your booty in mini golf.”

There was my Holly.

I laughed. “I’ve seen you on a golf course and I think it’s safe to say I will be the victor.”

She sat up straight and folded her arms. “Fine. Should we bet on this?”

“Absolutely. What am I going to win when you lose?”

“I think you meant to say that whenyoulose, you’re going to sing ‘Jingle Bells’ at the office during working hours using the karaoke machine in the common area.”

That sounded like cruel and unusual punishment for not only me but for anyone listening. But my ego got the better of me. I knew Holly to be a terrible golfer. “Deal,” I said smugly. “Just know, when I win, it will be you serenading our coworkers on Monday.”

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