Page 74 of Merry Little Midlife Matchmaker

“Aaron Thomas Butler,” Mrs. B snapped. “You cut it out right now. It’s Christmas!”

I let out a bitter scoff. It was Christmas, all right. It wouldn’t be Christmas without an alcohol-fueled fight. Without chaos and shouting and disaster. What was a holiday without a few tears?

“Sean,” she said, turning to me. “Hold on. You don’t have to leave.”

“I do,” I said. I pushed past a few bodies in the hallway and stumbled to the front door. Stabbing my feet into my shoes, I grabbed my jacket and flung open the door.

“Merry Christ—” My aunt Dorothy snapped her mouth shut and frowned at me from where she’d stopped short on the stoop. “Good Lord, Sean, what happened to you?”

I mumbled my apologies and near-sprinted past her, Margaret, and their partners. When I got behind the wheel of my truck, I was shaking so hard I couldn’t get the key in the ignition. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw people gathering on the front porch, heard my aunts’ questions, saw Mrs. B put a hand to her forehead as she glanced my way.

Finally, the truck rumbled to life. I stepped on the gas pedal and got the hell out of there.

If there was one silver lining in the disaster I’d just made of that event—of my life—it was that my son wasn’t there to see it. That thought was cold comfort as I left the Butlers’ house in my rearview mirror. I’d chased after a woman I knew was off-limits, and I’d ruined one of the most important relationships of my life.

Just like I knew I would.

THIRTY-THREE

LIZZIE

I wasn’tone for drinking by myself, but the first thing I did when I got home was rinse out one of the mugs I’d left in the sink this morning, then fill it to the brim with white wine. I chugged half of it down and spluttered over the sink, my eyes watering as I dumped the rest of the drink down the drain and sucked in a deep breath.

I didn’t cry. It felt like I was living in a funhouse, where the world was distorted and nothing was where it should be. The shock must have kept the tears at bay.

It wasn’t that we got caught. That wasn’t ideal, but getting caught kissing Sean wasn’t the end of the world.

No, what made me feel like the sun had just gone out was that he’d called it a mistake. Without even hesitating, he’d told Aaron that kissing me was a mistake.

ThatIwas a mistake.

I wasn’t the wonderful, magical, mystical woman he’d pretended I was. I wasn’t a woman worthy of love and devotion. I wasn’t fuckingspecial.

I was a mistake.

My chest was an empty pit, a crater. I stared at the wine splatter in the bottom of my sink and tried to breathe throughthe pain. When I closed my eyes, I heard Sean’s voice. I saw my brother’s disgust. My mother’s disappointment.

I never deserved to find love again. I was never supposed to get a second chance—not to them. I was just Lizzie, who scurried around making everyone’s life easier. And for Sean, I was just some sort of plaything, a distraction.

I should’ve stuck to being the family babysitter and then done what was expected and adopted twenty-seven cats once my kids grew up and moved out.

When my doorbell rang, I didn’t realize I’d walked toward the front door until my hand was on the knob. I was moving through a dream, and as I pulled the door open, I wasn’t even surprised to see Sean standing on my stoop.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his eyes feverish.

“No.”

He sucked in a breath and dipped his chin. “Yeah. Okay. I—I’m sorry, Lizzie. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“For what to happen?” My voice was flat. It would’ve been impossible for me to put any sort of emotion into it, because nothing made sense.

I actually thought I loved this man? The man who stood beside me and instead of protecting me from my brother’s anger, had stepped aside and let me take the brunt of the blame?

He’d done exactly what my ex-husband did. He protected himself while leaving me out in the cold. I’d been such a fool to think he was different. To think I deserved better.

Better didn’t exist. Not for me.

“I didn’t mean for us to get caught like that.”

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