Page 22 of Snow Harm, No Foul

“You can have the rest of this week off. Just send me an email with a recap of your meeting with Niko and if there’s anything that you need my approval for. Other than that, you aren’t needed here right now, Ivy. Stay home and rest,” he says, and for the first time since I started at the office, his voice isn’t bland and cool. There’s a kind tinge to it that makes me smile slightly.

“You’ll be at the event, right?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Will I see you at the tattoo pop-up?”

He snorts a laugh. “No. But I’ll be around.”

“Well, I guess it’s time I wish you a Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Ivy,” he returns before gesturing for me to exit the bathroom ahead of him.

It’ll be a Christmas for sure. Only time will tell if it’s merry.

Tippingthe grocery bag upside down, I shake out the boxed pregnancy test and watch as it falls to the bathroom counter with a clunk.

It’s like my brain has switched off to allow my limbs to move of their own accord. With every rip my nails create in the box, the knot in my stomach twists tighter and tighter. I’m doubtful that I’ll be able to untangle it at this point.

The slim stick falls into my palm when I finally tear the box open. Once I pee on it, I set it on the counter with the cap back on and the little hourglass flashing on the screen.

I slam the toilet lid shut and set a timer on my phone before sitting atop it with my head in my hands and my feet tapping the floor. It said to wait two minutes, but why does that feel like the world’s most impossible task? In this day and age, the results should be instant.

Maybe this would be easier if I wasn’t doing it alone. Or if I had intended for this to happen. But a baby? I wasn’t planning on one of those for a long time still. I’m only twenty-one, and I mean, come on! While I’m not exactly the most immature or reckless person, I doubt I’m mother material right now.

I don’t even have a boyfriend! It was a one-night stand. A hookup. Even if it was the best I’ve ever had, and if he offered, I’d be happy to do it again.

I groan into my hands. What am I supposed to do? Niko’s already lived through being a parent. His son is my age, for god’s sake. I doubt he wants to start at the beginning again with someone who he slept with in the back office of a bar.

We haven’t spoken in three weeks, not in a less professional setting than our business emails. How’s this for an icebreaker?

The ring of my alarm sounds. I hold my breath and drop my hands from my face. It’s like someone’s tugging at my puppet strings as I stand and sway to the sink.

One look at the tiny screen and I’m gripping the edge of the counter for balance.

Positive.

7

IVY

I’ve always loved Christmas.

My mother was a bit over-the-top with it when I was growing up, and I kept all of the same traditions living on my own that we had then.

There were years when the tree would go up before Halloween had even arrived, and I think those ones were my favourite. Mom would always order Dad to haul the bins up from the basement, and we’d spend the entire day figuring out where to put everything.

The theme for our living room tree alternated every year, from red and green to pink and silver and sometimes blue and white. Mom insisted we stick with one and work around it with the ornaments, tinsel, the tree skirt, and even the lights.

Then, we’d set up a second tree in the family room, where she’d give Dad and me free rein to decorate how we wanted with no rhyme or reason. I’d hold my box of sentimental ornaments to my chest and let Dad take his hockey ones, and then we’d get to work. Some years, it would take hours to get the tree how I wanted it, and I’d have Dad huffing and puffing from how many times I’d have him adjust something I was too tall to reach.

By the time we’d finish, Mom would already have Chinese takeout on the way, and we’d turn the fireplace on before making hot chocolate in our matching mugs.

It’s those memories that I replay on the days when I’m feeling lonely. The holidays aren’t the time to feel alone, but ever since I moved away from my parents, they’ve felt that way more than normal.

I always make the time to go back home for dinner and presents, but once you leave your childhood home and start a life on your own, it’s just not the same as it was. They’re growing pains, I know. Acknowledging that doesn’t magically stop the gnawing in your gut and craving for something more.

Puffing out a long exhale, I continue down the road to the Frosty Mug. My tires sink into the heavy dump of fresh snow that has yet to be plowed, and I grip the steering wheel tighter, growing more nervous. Even with the quick swipe of my wipers, the snow is falling hard enough in front of me to make it hard to see where I’m going.

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