Page 4 of Ten Christmases Without You
Madison laughed. “I subject poor Jack to it every year.”
“That’s different. He endures it for the woman he loves. I’d never bring a boyfriend here.”
“You never have a boyfriend,” Madison pointed out.
“I actually do have a boyfriend,” Emmy protested. “I just couldn’t bring him tonight. He’s on a ski trip with the guys.”
She grimaced empathetically. “Dad told me.”
Emmy’s shoulders dropped, her mouth hung open. “Told you what?”
Her father had promised not to divulgeanythinguntil after Christmas. Emmy had originally said to keep it to himself because she’d hate to put a damper on the holiday, but in reality, she didn’t want to experience the look on her sister’s face that she was witnessing right now.
Madison mouthed, “That you broke up.”
“I wouldn’t say that…”
Emmy had found lipstick in her boyfriend Zach’s apartment—an awful brownish-red color, a shade she’d never wear. She hadn’t actually confronted him yet, so they hadn’t broken up. Though she seriously doubted that there was as much testosterone on that ski trip as he’d suggested.
Not everyone could find a guy like Madison’s husband, Jack. They’d gotten married straight out of college, and he’d assumed the role of husband seamlessly. He played with children, moved heavy furniture on command, and seemed to enjoy the entire family. He even put up with Madison’s meticulous organizational strategies—she was one of those who kept her cereal in matching snap-lid containers. And he loved her. Unconditionally.
“Zach wouldn’t have blended with our family, anyway,” Emmy said. “He hates football.”
Madison made a face. “At least Charlie already knows what he’s walking into, since you two were friends as kids.” She nodded toward the kitchen doors.
“Yeah.”
“You two were inseparable until around seventh grade. Whatever happened?”
“No idea. The summer before eighth grade, we drifted apart. You know how kids do.”
There hadn’t been one single incident or falling-out. One moment, she was lying on her belly under a tree outside,doodling in her sketchpad while he lay on his back and chatted away, and the next, they were strangers.
“Our freshman year in high school, he threw paper at me in Spanish class,” she said, with a chuckle. “No idea why.”
“On our work video calls, he doesn’t look like a paper thrower now. He’s pretty conversational.”
“I just don’t know if I have the energy to entertain anyone.”
He was certain to ask what she was up to now. Emmy wasn’t at her best. While all her friends were moving along with their lives, three years after college, she was still in an entry-level position, and she’d been passed over twice for a job promotion. She couldn’t help wondering sometimes if she’d been given the position out of pity, because her boss, Vivienne Moreau, had been her mother’s best friend when they were students in Paris.
Emmy picked up a mug of eggnog. “I can’t believe you and Charlie Russell ended up at the same company.”
“I know,” Madison said. “He does cybersecurity.”
Both Charlie and Madison worked at Bachman Global Services, an IT and technology consulting firm. Madison was in IT strategy at a small branch in Richmond, Virginia, where she’d settled after college.
Charlie, the high school football star, had everything back when they were in school: the looks, good grades, a gaggle of friends following him everywhere, and always a pretty girl on his arm. But now, he was tucked away at a desk job, doing cybersecurity. She’d expected him to do something extraordinary like sports broadcasting or fly-fishing tours out in Montana. Perhaps cybersecurity was a front for his top-secret FBI job…
“His family’s okay with him popping over? It’s Christmas.”
“I guess so. He seemed like he’d come by.”
“If we’re entertaining, I should at least run a brush through my hair.”
Madison gave her a playful punch in the arm. “I think you secretly had a crush on him in high school—from afar. I saw you stop what you were doing whenever he’d drive by.”
“I was fifteen, and he was sixteen. He drove a car. That was the extent of my infatuation with him.” Emmy lifted her eggnog in the air. “By twenty-five, I’ve dated lots of men who drive cars, so it’s not quite as impressive now.”
