Page 29 of Happy After All

“I’m so sorry, Amelia. You never should have found out like this.”

I never saw it coming, and I can’t speak. I had thought we might break up, but I never imagined that while I was coming apart inside, he was putting himself back together in the arms of another woman.

I’m back in the visitors’ center, thankfully no longer beset by my memories, but sadly, my memories are more relevant to my present than I’d like.

Half the people in the room don’t know him by name, and Reigna is explaining. The ladies are particularly excited, and I’m just unable to understand how I’m suddenly sitting in the impending doom of my past life.

He doesn’t know where I moved to. Unless someone told him, and I’m pretty sure our split was neat enough that no one who knows where I am still speaks to him.

I don’t do social media as myself.

I pretend it’s because of the romance writing and motel, that maintaining an author presence under my pen name and a page for the Pink Flamingo is enough to keep me far too busy online as it is. That isn’t why. I don’t want handy Facebook memories reminding me where I was almost three years ago.

I don’t want old friends to track me down with along time no see, girly, what are you up to?

I don’t want to feel obligated to friend my mother. Or anyone who knew me in high school.

I don’t want people to know where I am, because Rancho Encanto is my sanctuary, and this is not the point of it.

So if I say something to Reigna, I’m breaking the spell. Worse, if I make it about my issues, it could impact the fundraising for the festival.

But then Chris will know I’m here.

He won’t care.

That is the truth. Chris won’t care.

I need to make him think I don’t care either. I can let him come and be surprised by me, then act like it never occurred to me to reach out to him because our history is ancient and I don’t care. I’m certainly not still hurt over the way he left me to isolate in my pain. Not hurt over having to split our lives in half and having to let go of all my dreams because that place—and him—became too painful to ever have to deal with.

This was ... this was supposed to be amazing. Christmas is supposed to be a time for miracles, and this is what the universe gives me?

The universe can absolutely suck it.

I can feel Sylvia looking at me, and I’m sure I’ve done a terrible job hiding my reaction to the news, so I make sure to smile, but unlike my ex, I’m no actor.

I have no idea how believable it is.

We get through the rest of the meeting with no hiccups, and I even manage to say my piece about the Festival of Trees and give everyone instructions on how we’ll be receiving their trees the day before the event, and I think I possibly even sparkle and look like I’m fine.

Afterward, everyone mingles and takes plates of cookies, and I’m angry because I can’t enjoy my little Christmas fantasy come to life.

Sylvia heads to her car at the same time I do and surprises me by defying the conventions I’ve set for her in my head.

“Are you okay, Amelia? You seemed upset when Reigna made her announcement.”

This is my moment. I can lean in and be honest. I can tell Sylvia I’ve been running away from my past for three years and I’m not ready for it to catch up with me. I can tell her that Chris is the last thing onearth I want to see, behind both Ted Bundy and the Microsoft Word paper clip.

But I don’t. Instead, I shrug. “What nineties kid wouldn’t be disappointed by the loss of theHome Aloneguy? I was looking forward to it, and more practically, of course, I felt like it would be a huge draw when we unveiled it next week. I’m sure ... I’m sure the alternative will be good, but it’s not Macaulay Culkin good.”

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about. The ticket sales were great even without the announcement, so I’m sure that once ... whatever-his-name-is gets announced, it will be a draw and no one will be disappointed because they won’t have known.”

I appreciate that she can’t remember Chris’s name, and I’m also very aware that she might be lying for my benefit because she might knowI’mlying.

The thing about Rancho Encanto is very few people who live here are from here. Which means they left whole lives behind in places that don’t get hot enough to scorch your soul from the inside out on a summer Tuesday. All have reasons for not necessarily wanting to drag that life out into the open for all and sundry to see.

We respect each other’s baggage.

“As long as you think it’s fine,” I say.

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