Page 123 of Friends Don't Kiss

“Is it snowing?” I ask her. I need to talk, to make things normal again, but my voice comes out funny.

She sits quietly next to Ethan and throws her coat over the partition, then reaches across the table to take my hand. “It’s snowing, and it’s beautiful out. Just like you like it.”

Dad hated the snow and the cold, yet one of my best memories with him was a snowball fight in the backyard of our split ranch when I was a kid. Colton takes my coat off, then his, and passes them to Ethan to throw overboard to the next booth. Everyone’s else’s coat follows, and while we slide closer to each other to make space for more people joining us (all of Grace’s team at the salon, Sophie, Ms. Angela, Cassandra, Lynn and Craig, Dennis and Shannon), Chris and Noah drag another table next to ours.

We pass down glasses, plates, and cutlery while bottles of wine appear on the table, followed by more food.

“Let’s share a soup,” Colton says, plopping two spoons in a small bowl between us.

“Is that the potato-cheddar-ale soup?” Willow asks.

“It sure tastes like it,” Colton answers. “Here,” he says, sliding a bowl her way.

“Hand me the little thingys there, will ya,” Ethan says.

“They’re bacon-wrapped figs stuffed with chèvre,” Haley informs her brother.

“That works, although I was talking about that,” he says, pointing further.

Chris reaches over Alex to place a whole serving platter of meatballs in front of him. I watch as he doesn’t realize this is the shareable portion and digs directly in it.

Grace looks at me with amusement, her eyebrow going up, then lifts one shoulder. We share a brief moment when that instant is infinitely more important than my overarching grief. Then Colton thanks Ethan for overseeing all the ice-skating activities during the day and the kid competition, andthatinstant then becomes the most important. Conversations grow and laughter ripples through the table, then someone seems to remember why we’re here and silence falls again, gazes turning to me.

I don’t want this, for them or for me. I take my glass and lift it toward the end of the table. “Special toast to Autumn, who did a magnificent job with the decor this year. You really turned this place into a Christmas wonderland. Thank you.”

She places her hand on her heart to thank me in return, her smile tentative.

I feel the need to say something to all of them. To acknowledge why they came and thank them for it—yet that’s not how I feel exactly, or what I want to say. “You guys are my life, and you make life here magical.” I blink the tears away. “Life is made of a succession of tiny little moments. How and with who you spend these tiny moments is what matters.” I shut up for a second, trying to gather my thoughts, to say something thoughtful that encapsulates what I’m feeling. “Shit, guys, I don’t know how to say this. I’m feeling really big things right now that should come out as, like, this grand speech, but that’s all I got. I love you.” My chin wobbles as I say the last words, and as a chorus of “we love you too” sounds through the bar, Colton rocks me in his arms, kissing the top of my head.

As the evening progresses, more friends join, more food appears, more wine is poured. Even Annabel Plum, who was here to enjoy Laskin, finds her way to our table.

Before long, someone takes out the karaoke machine, and questionable songs are sung by tone deaf people.

It turns into one of the best evenings of my life.

forty-five

Kiara

Whenweleave,mosteveryone is still there, singing the night away. But we’ve been up since dawn, and honestly? I need to be naked in Colton’s arms to make the world go round again.

He catches my shiver as he starts his truck and takes his coat off to wrap me in it. Won’t listen to my feeble protests. “You’re exhausted,” is his answer. He cranks the heat up. “Shoulda started the truck earlier,” he mumbles.

I close my eyes and let the rocking of the engine lull me. Taking a deep breath, I try to talk myself out of rehashing the confusing feelings of my father’s death by reliving the day’s events. It was, by all accounts, one of the best Laskins we’ve had. Clear skies, no snafus that I could notice. A beautiful parade. Something I’ve been meaning to tell Colton but never found the right time for resurfaces. “I think I know who the egg bomber is.”

He glances at me. “Really?”

I nod. “While we were at the bakery, looking from their front steps, I saw Isaac’s sister leave through the delivery entrance.”

“Chris’s apprentice? The one whose father got in trouble last spring?”

“Yeah, I think his father’s in jail now. I’m sure it was his sister. I recognized her coat—it has a tear on the back. That and how she walks.”

“That’s not a lot to go by.”

I know it was her. She recognized me too. The way she looked at me when our eyes locked? There was fear in her gaze. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’m going to turn her in.”

“I guess,” he grunts. “Dec might wanna know, though. He seemed—What the…” he interrupts himself, taking his foot off the gas.

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