Page 20 of The Holiday Ex-Files

I had to stop thinking about it. Lose that weight once and for all. For now, I took some deep breaths in and out before grabbing my equipment bag. Miss Sparkly shouted in my head, Go team go! I smiled to myself thinking how dang perky I used to be. With that, I exited my vehicle and stood in front of the grand home that was made to look like a quaint cottage right out of a picturesque storybook. It was charming with its board-and-batten and gabled roof. Though it was large, it looked cozy. I was excited to get a peek inside. Meredith, the listing agent, was supposed to meet me there but hadn’t arrived yet. I waited by my car, thinking she would show up any second so she could introduce me to the owners.

It was a bit nippy outside, and my denim jacket did a poor job of keeping me warm. Yet I didn’t mind breathing in the crisp, clean autumn air. With it came memories of bonfires, homecoming, and the promise of hoodie and jeans weather. All things I relished while growing up.

My little reverie was obliterated when an Audi plastered with Claudia Cann’s face all over it pulled up next to me. Suddenly, there was no air. I fell back against my car and held on to the door handle for support, not even able to revel in the fact that Ben’s precious car looked absolutely ridiculous. Ben wasn’t allowed to appear without my permission. If ever I had to see him, I needed at least three days of prep time to mentally prepare myself.

Miss Sparkly started chanting cheers the crowd used to shout during my high school basketball games. Cam, Cam, bam, if she can’t do it, no one can! That cheer had led me to some magnificent shots. We are talking nothing but net. I began to picture Ben as my opponent, my biggest opponent—he and I had missed the biggest shot of our lives and he didn’t even know it. He’d made me miss a lot of shots. Why are you still letting him? Miss Sparkly asked.

When he got out of his car looking like a fashion model, all debonair in his tailored charcoal suit and dress shirt with no tie, I was reminded exactly why. The first time I saw him and his pretty-boy face, with deep hazel eyes and perfectly styled, always clean cut hair, my world changed. Suddenly, there was this person, my person. I knew instantly I would marry him someday. He’d said he felt the same way too. But that changed for him, and for me it never had. I hadn’t been able to reconcile how something so seemingly right could go so wrong. So, I had walked off the court, figuratively speaking. If you don’t play the game, you can’t lose. The problem was never being able to feel the triumph of conquering and winning.

You’re not a loser, I was reminded by good old reliable snarky me. I was right. I’d kept myself safe. The thing about safe was that it didn’t leave a lot of room for taking risks and nailing those beautiful shots. But it also didn’t allow anyone to knock me down and steal the ball.

I really needed to quit having these existential-type conversations with myself. It was giving me a headache and Ben was headed my way. Oh, how I loathed him.

I made myself stand tall and let go of the door handle, even though I wanted nothing more than to crawl back into my 4Runner and run him over before leaving the scene of the crime.

Ben’s eyes widened more and more the closer he got. He stopped dead in his tracks with this bewildered look, as if he didn’t recognize me.

“What are you doing here?” I snapped, doing my best not to shake in my leather booties.

He shook his head as if coming out of a trance. “You cut your hair.”

“Yeah.” My insides squirmed while his voice echoed in my head about how I looked better with longer hair. How I needed to care more about my appearance. I ended up caring so much, I didn’t even recognize myself. “What are you doing here?” I put some more force behind it this time. I was tired of carrying the weight of his expectations.

“You look—” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. He always did that when he was nervous. What was he nervous about? Surely not criticizing me. He’d proven to be adept at that. “Meredith’s daughter came down sick at school and she had to pick her up,” he said, instead of finishing what I was sure was a critique.

I turned toward the car. I didn’t sign up for this today. “Well, tell her to call me for a time we can reschedule.” Why she hadn’t called in the first place, I didn’t know, but I was beyond annoyed.

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