Page 15 of Merry Me
I had to swallow down the weird twist in my stomach when I saw him. Good to see time had been kind to him. His floppy brown hair was still falling perfectly into place like some Pantene commercial gone rogue, and his bright brown eyes still looked perpetually amused. Levi’s broad shoulders and muscular frame made it clear he still spent a lot of time at the gym, but his easygoing smile softened him—made him look like the kind of guy who’d rescue kittens from storm drainsandremember your birthday.
He was perfect for my gorgeous, charming, annoyingly flawless sister.
Paige, with her auburn hair cascading in cinematic waves down her back, practicallyglowed. Not even in a bridal way. Like, in an “I was touched by an angel and moisturized with fairy tears” kind of way. She wore winter white like she’d invented it, her cheeks flushed from the cold, and her lips were naturally pink and glossy.
She and Levi were all smiles, looking disgustingly happy. Like they shared secrets and playlists and a private language only the hot and in love could decode. It was very sweet. But I also hadn’t actually ever seen them speak in high school since Paige was two years older than us, so it was a little weird to see them wrapped around each other now.
But, evidently, no one else was having that problem.
Mom swooped in for a hug from Levi, squealing like she’d just been reunited with a long-lost son. Dad clapped Levi on the back like they shared beers on weekends. And even our dog, Frederick Von Licktenstein, came charging over, tail wagging furiously likehehadn’t decided last week that he only liked people who gave him rotisserie chicken.
Traitor.
Paige’s brown eyes scanned the kitchen, and when she spotted me, they lit up even more. “Natty-kins!” she exclaimed, gliding over to throw her arms around my neck like we were in some kind of reunion special.
It was good to know that my childhood nickname was indeed going to follow me for the rest of time. I’d always wondered if it would die out with maturity, but no. Apparently, it was here to stay. I could rest easy now.
I gave her a tight but warm hug because, for all her dramatic flair and bridal sparkle, I did love the brat. And then there was Levi, arms open like we were long-lost siblings instead of—well, whatever weird Venn diagram our history fell into. Someone who would have been privy to all the no doubtterriblethings Easton had to say about me after we’d broken up.
I hesitated. Hugging Levi felt a little like hugging a land mine. One that also might talk.
But I went through with it, stiffly, and he gave me a brief squeeze like this was just another holiday get-together and not a ticking emotional time bomb.
“Hey, Nat,” he said, his voice as easy as ever, but his eyes held that tiny, knowing edge.
“Hey,” I mumbled, avoiding his eyes and grabbing another slice of pizza, hoping to bury the awkwardness under cheese and pepperoni. If my mouth was permanently stuffed, then no one could expect me to talk, right?
That was the plan anyway.
Everyone launched into small talk about the wedding…what time everyone was heading to the resort tomorrow, how beautiful the venue was going to be, blah, blah, blah. I probably should have been paying close attention—maid of honor and all of that—but my patience wore thinner with every passing second, the anxiety buzzing under my skin like electric eels had attached themselves to my arms.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Is he going to be there?” I blurted out, interrupting Levi mid-sentence.
The room froze.
Everyone knew whohewas. Theheto end allhes. Thehemy brain had refused to let go of for the last almost two years.
Except MeMaw, who, of course, let out a little snicker like this was her favorite soap opera and someone had just dropped a shocking paternity twist.
Paige winced, her gaze darting to Levi like she was silently begging him to handle it.
“Uh, yeah,” Levi said, shifting his weight awkwardly. “He’s actually on his way here now.”
I stared at him, my brain rebooting like a computer from 1997. “What?”
“He texted me like ten minutes ago. He’s almost here,” he said, tone casual, like we were talking about a UPS delivery and not the fucking ex love of my life.
“What?” I repeated again. My voice came out as a shriek this time, louder than I’d intended. “Here? Now?”
And that’s when the knock came.
Right on cue. Like some cruel sitcom moment written by the gods of cosmic mischief.
I went into full-body panic mode.
“Nope. Nope. I’m out,” I said frantically, dropping my plate like it had burned me and backing out of the kitchen as everyone stared at me like I was crazy.
It wasn’t even a graceful retreat. I knocked over the coat rack, almost tripped on the dog—Frederick barking once like heapproved of the drama—and I barreled down the hallway toward my childhood bedroom.
