Page 39 of Accidentally Under Your Tree

"It's no big deal."

"Right," she said, the word dripping with sarcasm. Her focus moved past my shoulder, and she groaned. "Will you excuse me? I need to remind Lawrence to blink when he stares at your sister."

It didn't take me long to spot Lawrence sitting on a bar stool, with one boot propped on the rung. He was amongst his socializing coworkers. But his eyes were, in fact, trained across the room where Rose stood with Will at her side.

The longing etched into Lawrence's features—his covetous gaze, the tight set of his jaw, the pinch between his eyebrows—felt like he'd held up a mirror for me to peer into.

It had always scared me how consumed Rose and Lawrence were with one another. My emotions for Will were stronger than I'd felt for anyone else. I had to believe that we could be different. We could burn without exploding, without decimating ourselves and singeing everyone around us.

Lizzy

Four nights before Christmas

Even if the white wine glass in Mom's hand wasn't there, I would have been able to tell she had already drunk a couple from the pink in her cheeks. The sour smell of it was on her breath as she gave me a one-armed hug. Lowering to the metal chair next to me, she crossed her legs. "Hi, baby."

"Hi, Mom." I gestured to the room with a chocolate-covered strawberry. "You transformed the KC Hall, yet again."

She lifted her chin. "It's a skill."

"It really is. Having fun?"

"I always have such a good time at these parties." A couple of her words slurred together. It didn't happen often, but she was a sloppy and happy drunk. "What about you?"

"I haven't been here that long, and I'm driving, so I'll probably keep it to one drink." I pointed to my half full white wine.

"Your dad and I can give you a ride home."

"If that ice storm rolls in early tomorrow, I don't want my car stuck here."

"Oh baby, it's not coming for another 48-hours. And who cares if your car is here? It's no big deal."

"They'll have to plow the parking lot. I don't want it to get buried."

She stacked a cracker with Parmesan cheese and salami from my plate. "You worry too much."

"You're right, I'll just stop that."

"Good." Plopping the cracker in her mouth, she considered me. After swallowing, she said, "You and Rose are spending more time together.”

I didn’t want to get hers, or my, hopes up, not when I knew how badly she wanted us to be best friends again. But I had to face the possibility that Rose might go back to Kansas City and not talk to me again until Thanksgiving. So, I gave Mom a noncommittal shrug.

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you think of Will?"

That I'm entirely too into him.

Hell, earlier today, I'd swooned like a regency romance heroine who'd never touched a man. All because he'd helped mebrush a horse. I had traced a scar cut through the knuckle on his third finger. The white line was stark against his work-worn skin. When, in fact, I'd already had Will inside of me. I'd moaned and begged, wanton and hungry.

I found him at Rose's side. Our eyes met—we blinked and looked away.

"He seems really nice." My voice came out a little too high. I cleared my throat. "What do you think?"

"He's a nice man…” she turned her head toward Lawrence still nursing a beer and stealing glances of Rose. “I wish she wouldn't flaunt him in front of Lawrence, though."

My chair creaked as I sat up straight. "Flaunthim? That's a bit much. Is she supposed to not let her boyfriend touch her to spare her ex's feelings? Which he might not feel anything about."

He did. He definitely did, but that wasn't the point.

It was strange to defend my sister's right to receive the affection I desperately wished was for me.

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