Page 18 of Holiday Unscripted
“I charged your phone,” he says, getting up and walking over to it. “You left it on the counter when you walked in, and I figured you might want it charged.” He looks at it and then looks at me. “I think your boyfriend is trying to get a hold of you.” He hands me the phone and I look down to see Ty has texted me, his text on the top of the text messages.
Ty: Are you alive????
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I mumble to him opening my text app, “we work together. Not that I owe you an explanation.”
“If you say so,” he replies and my head whips up.
“What does that mean?” I ask him and he avoids answering me.
“We should go before we’re late.” That’s all he says, turning on the light over the stove before walking to the wall and shutting off the bright light that was on before. He walks past me to the front door with Whiskey following him. “Be good.” He rubs his neck. “And stop trying to get into the cat’s room,” he scolds as I reach for my black jacket that I hung up when I got here.
Nate opens the front door and waits for me to step out before turning and slamming the door behind him. He presses something on the keypad before we walk to the truck together, neither of us saying anything. “Can I have the code for the door?” I ask him. “You know, just in the event I want to Irish goodbye.”
“No,” he states. “You want to Irish goodbye, let me know and I’ll leave with you.”
“What if you are having the best night of your life?” I say exaggerating a bit. “Then I’m going to put a damper on it.”
“I’ll survive,” he deadpans, starting the truck and backing out of his garage.
“Suit yourself,” I huff out and then look outside. “It’s probably one-two-three-four.”
“Yes, how did you know?” My head whips around to look at him and I see he’s smirking.
I roll my eyes and look out the window as the snow falls softly, hitting the street and then melting. After a silent ride to the bar, he pulls into the parking lot and there is a big sign in the front that says: Closed for a Private Party.
Once he turns the truck off, I get out and my phone buzzes in my hand, I see Ty has texted me again.
Ty: We’re taking bets on how happy you are to be home.
I snort and take a picture of myself with my thumb down and send it to him.
Me: Who has horrible as the winner?
“Texting your boyfriend?” Nate asks from beside me.
“No, he’s now my husband. We got married while I was in the truck with you.” I pull open the door. “At this rate, I might be pregnant by the end of the night.” I hold up both hands and cross my fingers. “I think it’s happening right now.” He looks right at me. “I would look away if I were you.”
“Hey, you two.” I look over to see my brother Jack walking to us, wearing his jeans and an untucked white button-down with a bottle of beer in his hand. “Was wondering when you would show up.”
“She took forever to get ready.” Nate shocks the fuck out of me. “I was waiting for an hour.”
“Um, excuse me, I didn’t know we had a set time to leave.” I shake my head.
“I don’t know about you,” Nate says, grabbing a bottle of beer from the side of the bar that is there for us to take, “but when it says seven thirty, it means you have to be there at seven thirty, not leave the house at eight.”
“You could have left me at your house,” I remind him.
“If you want to be home alone in my house,” he replies, bringing the beer to his mouth, “all you had to do was ask.”
“I don’t even know what is going on right now”—Jack looks at us—“but I don’t want any part of it.” He looks at Nate. “You’re like a brother to me and she’s my sister.”
“Eww,” I say, grabbing my own bottle of beer and bringing it to my lips as he walks away.
“You didn’t exactly say eww that night,” he mumbles and my head whips over to look at him, shocked he’s bringing it up again after all these years. All. These. Years. Later. After everything that went down. The nerve of him.
“You said nothing the next day,” I throw in his face and shock fills his features, “or the day after that or the day after that.” I take five pulls of the beer and put it on the bar top, grabbing a shot from a waiter who is going around with them. I take the shot and cough as soon as I swallow it, looking around for a bottle of water and not seeing any.
“You better not throw up in my truck.” He sits on a stool, bringing his beer to his lips. His legs are open and perfect for me to step in between them. I look away as soon as the thought pops up in my head, blaming the alcohol.
