Page 88 of 12 Days of Mistletoe

“And Marlene will try to talk you into letting her do your hair, but I’d say do it yourself. You never know what kind of do that woman will come up with.”

“Noted,” she says, though the playfulness is lost from her tone.

“It’s not a big deal,” I tell her. “I’ll make sure Mom doesn’t even offer.”

A breathy laugh falls from her lips. “I’m not worried about your mother, Elliot.”

But she’s worried about something.

FORTY-ONE

bonnie

A dress?I don’t have a dress—a big, fancy, Christmas Eve kind of dress. This pantsuit is the fanciest thing I own. And it has no sleeves. I am wearing no sleeves in December for you people and now you’re telling me I need adress.

I have no money. And no time. Why did no one tell me about this before?

And why won’t my brain stop with all the scenarios? I won’t be showing up in a potato sack.No, really, brain, I won’t.Just like I won’t be showing up in a fancy dress—I don’t have either one of those.

Alisa Monroe isn’t invited to May Elliot’s party. She won’t be pushing me down, dumping eggnog on me, and laughing at me in front of Elliot’s family and friends.

I pull in a breath—five seconds. And breathe out—seven seconds.

But I wish Noel were here.

May’s chatting in the back, but I’ve lost track of what she’s saying. My chest hurts and my pulse is thrumming like the little drummer boy has taken up residence there.

I need to take my meds—and I remind myself that I’m not ashamed of this. Somehow, it’s difficult with the guy I like sitting right next to me as he tables his feelings. Still, it’s what Noel would be encouraging me to do and it’s what I need.

I dig into my bag, and pull out my pillbox and a water bottle. I slip the little pink pill into my mouth and wash it down with one swig, glancing Elliot’s way as I do. I don’t think he’s noticed.

Nothing magical changes inside of me, not right away—not like it seems to with Noel. For me, she is more effective than any drug.

“You okay?” Elliot says.

Okay… maybe he did notice something.

Awesome. My reputation of odd and undesirable has decided it isn’t going anywhere.

I offer him a tight-lipped smile and nod. “Fine,” I lie.

By the time we get to the symphony hall, I am not fine. It’s been over an hour and my medication has yet to kick in. I’m dizzy, I’m sweating, and my haggard breathing is loud enough that both Elliot and May have noticed.

David and Marlene pull up with the rest of the family, parking right beside us, and with their presence we get to add shaking hands to my list of current qualities.

“Elliot, be a dear, you and Bonnie get me a tea at that corner café we go to at times. I’m going to go inside with Marlene and the girls.”

“Sure, Gran,” Elliot says.

“Take your time,” she says, dipping her head and giving him a pointed stare.

Elliot opens his door to help his grandma, but May is already out the door and on her way over to her daughter.

Sitting back in his seat, he shifts into reverse and pulls out of the lot before his mother can come over and ask where it is we’re going.

“Bonnie?” Elliot glances over at me—and that face, it’s full of concern and confusion.

“I’m okay,” I manage to get out.

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