Page 86 of The Holiday Ex-Files

“You wonder what?”

“Well, I wonder if it’s really you.”

I sat up and fell against her.

She wrapped an arm around me.

“Mara,” I whispered. “I miss me.”

“Where do you want to look for her?”

I thought about that for a second. And what my mom said about the song in my heart. It wasn’t going to be pretty, but I knew what I had to do. “Will you watch a Chris . . .”

Say it. You can do it! Own it.

“. . . Christmas movie with me?”

“Does it have to be Hallmark?” she groaned.

“No,” I laughed. “How about Die Hard?” That was a good one to ease into it.

“Now we’re talking. Nothing says merry Christmas like a good old-fashioned hostile terrorist takeover.”

“I kind of feel like that’s my life right now.”

Hey, I heard that. I’m not a terrorist. I’d like to think of myself as more of a motivational speaker.

I smiled to myself.

Mara squeezed me tight as if trying to protect me. Man, I loved her.

“So,” she hesitated, “what are you going to do about Noah?”

I rubbed my heart; there was this ache and emptiness there. “There’s nothing I can do. He loves Annika.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Well, men suck.”

“Not Noah,” I defended him, even though I was pretty sure he hated me. “Regardless, I think I’m going to date myself first.”

Mara laughed. “I’m dating myself too—we should totally go on a double date, like to the spa.”

“Now you’re talking.”

“I love you, Cams.”

“I love you, and I think I’m going to love myself too.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Dear Ex-Filers, I know for many of us these big holidays can be hard. It’s so easy to focus on what’s missing. My dad says that gratitude is like medicine: sometimes it’s hard to swallow, but once you take it, it cures almost any ill. So today I want to say how grateful I am for all of you. You have helped me through some of my deepest, darkest moments. If you are alone this day, I hope it’s by choice and you enjoy every SINGLE second of it. You see what I did there? Anyway, see my pinned post and highlight reels about ten things to do if you’re alone on Thanksgiving. As for the rest of you, sweats are always an option, and don’t forget people placement in pictures should be intentional—you know, just in case you need some cropping done. Wink, wink. Because you know I’ll be here winter, spring, summer, and fall to remove them all.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Lots of love,

Cami

I read over my post to make sure it reflected me. The me I was trying to become. I was still trying to find the balance between sparkly and snarky. I still wasn’t sure my brand would survive the change, especially if I ever decided to jump on the man train, as Mara called it. Not like anyone was handing me a ticket to board. Especially not Noah. Our only communication was a few texts updating me on Shanna, who after being in the hospital for several days, did have the babies very late last night. The girls were tiny at only four pounds each, but they were breathing on their own, which was a huge blessing. Shanna texted me pictures of her tiny angels, Amayah and Camila. They were gorgeous and oh so squishy.

Shanna was doing well and overjoyed that her daughters had made it to the party.

I assumed Noah was happy. I wanted so badly to see him today. We were supposed to run the Turkey Trot with Jaxon and Liam this morning, but Noah had canceled via text. His excuse was the babies being born, but I knew it was more than that. I’d exhausted him with my craziness, and he had Annika. She canceled helping at the homeless shelter because she was making Thanksgiving dinner for Noah. As happy as I was for Noah, the thought of them together hurt in ways I didn’t know I could still hurt. My mom said that was a good sign. I wasn’t so sure, but it was where I was at.

I finished getting ready at the ungodly time of 5:00 a.m. I never understood why races needed to be so early. Especially when it was so freaking cold out. The air was for sure going to burn my lungs. The good news was all the calories I would be burning would mean I could eat more pie. My mom and I had made seven yesterday. Everything from pecan to pumpkin. I licked a lot of beaters. Mom was so ecstatic to have my help. She’d blasted Christmas music all day. I had even found myself humming to a few songs while we’d worked. She was still trying to talk me into getting a tree, but I wasn’t there yet. I still had visions of Ben and Claudia under the boughs of pine I had lovingly and carefully decorated. Besides, I wouldn’t be here for Christmas. Mom wasn’t thrilled with that. But I think she understood at least some of it. She had no idea the loss I had sustained on Christmas. I couldn’t burden her with that knowledge.

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