Page 48 of Stocking Stuffers
God, she loved her siblings.
“Whatever,” Rosie said with an eye roll and a bigger smile. “But why do you refuse to consider a deeper relationship? It doesn’t have to be a lifetime commitment or even monogamous. We’ve tried to set you up with people, but it’s always like Rejection City up in here. Or No-Strings Poundtown. Help us understand. Is it because you’re not ready? Are you still in love with P.J.? Is it because you don’t believe in love at all, or you haven’t found the right person? Or perhaps you’re—”
“Scared,” Benji said, suddenly serious, no diplomatic question mark in his voice.
“I’m not scared,” Sasha hissed and jerked her hand away.
Their waitress came back with their food, and Rosie ordered a peppermint mocha. Evidently everyone was in the holiday spirit today, except Sasha. She drank down another huge swallow of mimosa, the champagne tickling her nose.
“Then why do you think you fucked up?” Benji asked. “If you don’t want to break your relationship embargo for him, then he’s obviously not that important.”
“Screw you, Benji. He is important,” Sasha said, hot and flushed. Benji and Rosie shared a gotcha smile, and Sasha wanted to face plant into her pancakes. She’d played into their tricky little hands. “I fucked up because I didn’t want to say goodbye to him. I let him weasel his way under my defenses, and now I’m screwed.”
“Why don’t you tell us about him?” Rosie said.
“Fine.” Sasha ate a bite angrily, then moaned because the pancakes were so fucking tasty. “He just moved here from Topeka, as in he hasn’t even unpacked his vehicle, and is hoping to live with his sister. He used to be an accountant but is enrolled in school starting in the spring for horticulture and landscape architecture. He’s sweet, expressive, willing to experiment. Great in bed. He loves romance novels and Christmas. I don’t know. I liked him.” She lifted her shoulders, despair souring the food in her stomach.
“So he’s perfect,” Benji said, pretending to swoon into Rosie, the back of his hand on his forehead.
“Except for the whole homeless, jobless thing,” Rosie added, playfully shoving Benji away.
“He has a plan, though and doesn’t seem to be a flake,” Sasha said.
Rosie tapped a pink fingernail against her bottom lip. “You keep defending him. You like him, Sasha. What’s holding you back?”
“She scared,” Benji whispered, pretending Sasha couldn’t hear him.
“Yes, fine. Okay. I’m scared. Wouldn’t you be? The last time I fell for a Christmas-loving, softhearted asshole, he literallyleft me at the altar.P.J. was a good guy too. He was sweet and open and we matched. I thought we fit. I can’t trust … myself. I can’t trust myself.”
The aisle at their wedding flashed in her eyes, unwanted and painful. It had been lined with candles and Douglas fir garland. After Rosie had informed the guests that the wedding was off, Sasha had sat down at the end of that beautiful, festive aisle and bawled her eyes out. Tears pricked her eyes at the memory, the embarrassment rushing up on her like heartburn.
She took a shuddering breath. “The anniversary of my jilting is days away. It’s hard to imagine allowing myself to be open ever again. Also, look around. Benji, how many men have cheated on or ghosted you?” She ignored his indignant disagreement. “And Rosie, you’re currently waist deep in divorce lawyers! You can’t even be in the same room with he-who-shall-not-be-named. Our parents hated each other. And—”
“Stop.” Sasha reeled back at Rosie’s quiet voice. It was her teacher voice, and it worked wonders on tiny children, as well as grown-ass adults. “I am not you. Benji isn’t you. Our parents are immaterial. They don’t count. The jerks Benji and I have datedor marriedare not … what’s his name again? Percy?”
“Perry,” Sasha said, her voice small.
“Perry. That’s a sweet name. He sounds nice. If you don’t believe in relationships because they’re not right for you or you know they won’t ever fulfill you, then fine. If you’re not ready, I understand that, and we’ll support you. But don’t you dare blame not wanting a relationship on me and Benji.”
Sasha stared at her sister for a long moment, her heart lumped in her throat. Benji’s eyes were wide.
Then the floodgates opened. No rhyme or reason for it. Maybe it was her sister’s strong, soft voice—she hated feeling like she’d gotten in trouble. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Or maybe it was that she was facing down her belief system, the core of herself, that she’d been holding onto so tightly, and it was crumbling.
Once the tears hit her cheeks, Rosie yelped in surprise and knocked over her empty mimosa glass while reaching for her.
“Oh shit, Sasha. I’m so sorry!” Rosie said.
Both Benji and Rosie rushed to Sasha’s side of the booth and enveloped her in their arms. Which made her cry harder.
“I’m sorry. Don’t be nice to me. It’s making it worse,” she said with a sniffle, when Benji kissed her temple.
He laughed, and Rosie rubbed her back vigorously. “It’s okay. You’re allowed to cry.”
“I hate Christmas,” she said with a wet laugh. “Saying goodbye to him today sucked. I gave him a prostate massager as a gift.” She hiccupped a little. “And he was so funny and charming about it, and I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to kiss him again and see him again. But he doesn’t want to be friends-with-benefits. He’s a romantic.”
Benji cupped her cheeks between his hands. “You are my hero. A prostate massager to your one-night stand? God, I wish I was as ballsy as you.”
“Two-night stand,” Sasha corrected him.
