Page 20 of The Night Before Grumpmas
“Yeah, sure,” I mutter dryly, glancing out the window at Noelle’s blinding display of twinkling lights. “I’ll get right on that ‘lightening up’ thing.”
“Love you, Grinchy brother.”
“Love you, too, annoying little sister,” I grumble before hanging up.
I stare at the decorations outside my window, my jaw clenching with a mix of irritation and, okay, maybe a tiny flicker of something I refuse to name. The twinkling lights, the oversized wreaths—it’s like my apartment is under attack from Christmas cheer.
And I hate it.
Well, mostly.
Why the hell is Noelle here, other than to make my life a living Christmas nightmare?
Chapter Eleven
Noelle
“Hey, Val, happy holidays”I say, still smiling as I weave through the crowd. “Are you ready for the best party of the year? You’re coming, right?”
“How’s the gala coming along?” Val asks, her voice crackling through the phone and I don’t love that she’s not acknowledging the party. She’s probably going to ditch me making some excuse about work and plane tickets being too expensive.
Which will be fine, I’ll just act like it’s no big deal and hope she at least sends me a donation or two. So, I respond, “Good. We’re so close to hitting our fundraising target. Just need a few more big donors to lock in and sell some tables, would you like one or just a couple of tickets?” I ask half-jokingly but I continue so she doesn’t feel like I’m putting her on the spot, at least not yet, “If not, any donations are welcome. I’ve got a meeting later this week with a couple of potential sponsors, so fingers crossed.”
“I swear, you’re going to pull it off,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “You always do, remember that time you raised money for the library to add more books and remodel?”
That was a piece of cake in comparison, but I don’t tell her that. I only say, “Let’s hope so.” Dodging a guy in a suit who’s too busy scrolling through his phone to watch where he’s going. “If I can get it all squared away, we’ll have the best news to share on Christmas Day. Everyone’s going to love it.”
“You’re doing a good thing,” Val says. “I mean, you’re basically Santa wearing cozy hats and fun boots. Plus you know how to handle spreadsheets like a badass.”
I snort, adjusting the strap of my purse over my shoulder. “Thanks. Not sure if I’ll be like him, but I’ll take it.”
As I cross the street, I can already see a few early signs of holiday cheer—window displays with hints of red and green, wreaths hung on brownstone doors. There’s something magical about New York during the holidays. It’s busy, sure, but it feels like the whole city is in on the same secret: that for a couple of months, the world gets a little softer, a little brighter.
“You know, Grandma Holly must be so proud of you,” Val adds after a beat, her tone softening. “You’ve made ‘Hollyvember’ something more and in the city.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll still make it cozy, festive, and packed with all the goodness of winter and chocolate,” I say, glancing around at the city, “Manhattan’s not exactly Maple Ridge, but I’ll make it work.”
“Glad to hear that, now to what really matters. Your message was very cryptic,” Val says, breaking through my festive thoughts. “What exactly do you need me to do?”
“Mom called earlier to let me know that Chad and Eleanor got engaged,” I say, trying to sound casual, even though my stomach does a tiny flip. “Something about wanting me to hear it from her and to remind me that the entire family is still supporting me. The point is that I need you to check their social media. Did he give her . . .myring?”
There’s a pause before Val bursts into laughter. “I love you, Noelle, but you could just check yourself, you know?”
I’m a little appalled that she’s laughing at me, but I need to stay focused on what really matters. “And look like a total stalker? No, thank you,” I say, sidestepping a couple holding hands as they pass by, their matching scarves almost too cute for words. “That’s why I have a big sister—to do all the fun undercover work for me. It’s just curiosity, you know. I really don’t care about their lives.”
“Uh-huh,” she says, the skepticism practically dripping through the phone.
I keep walking, pretending like I’m not holding my breath for her response. I tell myself I don’t care, that I’ve moved on. But part of me wonders if seeing that ring—the one I wore for a few years—on someone else’s finger will sting more than I’m ready to admit.
This twenty-eight-year-old small-town girl is still nursing a bruised ego after her high school sweetheart not only cheated on her but did it with her younger cousin, of all people. It’s the kind of betrayal that doesn’t just hurt—it digs in deep, making you question everything. Every choice, every moment.
Why wasn’t I enough? Why weren’tweenough?
Sure, all those self-help books keep telling me it’s not about me, that it’s him, but that doesn’t stop the little voice in the back of my head from whispering, “Maybe if you’d been prettier, smarter, or funnier, things would’ve been different.” It’s stupid, I know. But heartbreak has a funny way of making you doubt yourself in all the ways you never thought you would.
And here I am, walking down the busiest street in Manhattan, trying to distract myself with twinkling lights and holiday shop windows, but all I can think about is how the man I thought I’d marry didn’t just move on—he moved on with my own cousin. Ouch.
“Earth to Noelle,” Val says, snapping her fingers in front of my face, pulling me back to reality as I step off the subway and head toward my apartment building. The familiar brownstone looms ahead, a comforting but slightly worn facade. “Look, if it is your ring, he’s a cheap bastard. Either way, after what he did it is definitely his loss. You don’t need to compare yourself to Eleanor. You’re better off without him, trust me.”
