Page 82 of Dance with Me on New Year's Eve

I couldn’t help but wonder if I actually didn’t hate him either.

Maybe I might even like him.

But only a tiny bit.

Chapter 22

Ugh, a dreaded dinner party. I hated them almost as much as big cocktail parties because at least you could be a little more anonymous at a huge party or, you know, escape to the bathroom or the deck outside.

But surprisingly, I wasn’t hating this Christmas-themed dinner party so far. Danny had given me a pep talk last night after I told him about Hazel’s impromptu party, and I think it was helping. Even though Hazel had given up drinking almost a year ago, she served wine for guests, and I’d had one glass. I was limiting myself to one glass, but I still felt a little more relaxed than usual.

Of course, with my luck, I ended up being seated next to Jeff.

And I didn’t hate it. But it was awkward that we kept brushing forearms together when we’d reach for a utensil or glass at the same time. He seemed quieter than usual but not exactly his usual standoffish self either. I didn’t know what to make of him—as per usual the last few weeks. We’d never really talked about the weekend I was sick. I sometimes wondered if I’d imagined it.

Hazel cleared her throat loudly. “It will surprise no one that I’m going to give a little speech.” She smiled along with everyone else at the table. “As you all know, we are now on track to open Yours Truly Wellness next week! Of course, we won’t start seeing patients until January, but the week after Christmas will be a key time for appointment setting and publicity. Terry has an info table set up all week at the Christmas Village. We areset.We did it!” This was followed by smiles and congratulations around the table.

“I’m so proud of you, Hazel. Every single one of us is,” Mariana said, biting her lip as if trying to control her emotion. “You’re going to make me cry, and that issonot my thing,” she said with a small laugh.

Hazel beamed and then turned to where Jeff and I were sitting. “Roxy and Jeff, I couldn’t have done it without you. Both of you have done an amazing job. I know you were both a little hesitant about managing this project, but you’ve done a phenomenal job.” When we both nodded awkwardly, she laughed and added, “I also know you both prefer not to have a big show of gratitude, so I’ll stop now.”

Laughter filled the room, even from Jeff and me. My Christmas jingle bell earrings shook, making a tinny noise, and I caught Jeff looking toward me for a moment.

“We should make this an annual holiday tradition! I’ll host, or we could take turns hosting. We can eat tons of festive food, have a gift exchange next year, watch some cheesy Christmas movies, the whole works.” Her smile was infectious to everyone but me. When she noticed, her smile faltered, but only briefly. Her eyes were warm as she added, “Remember, family is not just blood. I love you all.”

“Haz, seriously, is it your goal to make me cry tonight?” Mari crossed her arms and tried to scowl but only ended up laughing.

As more conversation about everyone’s Christmas plans ensued around me, I focused on eating my food slowly and trying not to bump elbows with Jeff. If I seemed really absorbed in eating, people might not bother me or notice that I wasn’t conversing. It was not a great strategy, but it was often the only one I had in these forced casual parties that I couldn’t avoid.

Still, my anxiety continued rising, and I nearly spilled my glass on myself when Jeff leaned over and bumped shoulders with me.

“Can you pass the butter?” he asked.

I tried to breathe as I set my glass down carefully and then reached for the butter in front of me. Suddenly, his hand was under my forearm, and I gasped as I turned to him and nearly threw the butter at him.

“It looked like your sleeve was going to land in the pasta,” he said, pointing at my plate.

I gaped at him, unsure of his meaning at first. Then it dawned on me, and I blinked rapidly. “Oh, you were just—OK, thank you.” I tried to flash a smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you.”

“No, you didn’t … I’m just …” I couldn’t continue the sentence:a hyper-sensitive weirdo who misinterprets social cues and wishes she were anywhere but here.

His eyes met mine as he swallowed a bite of food and then veered back to his plate.

Why can’t you just act normal? Ever?

This is not that hard, Roxy.

Just socialize. It’s easy.

I couldn’t take it.

Must.

Leave.

Now.

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