Page 43 of The Work Boyfriend

“Not this again,” Rob said, his voice light.

“Not you,” I teased. “I already know your plans.”

“Which are?” Cash asked.

“He’s going on foot to his cottage. We’ve been arguing for years about the ability of zombies to survive underwater.”

“They absolutely can,” Garrett said.

“They absolutely can’t,” Jen added.

“Oh, a debate!” Cash laughed. “They don’t breathe, man.”

“But they are still skin and bones,” Jen argued, her face flushed from the wine. She must be a cheap drunk because she’d barely had half a glass. “Which would get waterlogged, and they’d simply expand. The water would rot them away.”

“You can’t win against water,” Rob said.

“They’d simply walk along the bottom of the lake and then pop out the other side,” Garrett argued.

“Exactly!” I said. “See, Garrett gets it.”

“Of course he does,” Jen said.

Rob tried to steer the conversation back to lighthearted. “You are all welcome at our cottage if the zombies do hit.”

“Except we’d all probably starve,” I joked. “Because neither of us know how to forage or garden.”

Cash added, “I’ve got you both covered.”

Garrett looked at Jen, tried to get her to meet his eyes, soften whatever was between them and turn the night around. That moment, that small, teeny instant—it tied up everything you could know about them. They lived in each other. They were each other. I couldn’t compete with that.

My wine glass was empty. I filled it up.

Rob stood up. “Phew, that dish is hot! I hit a pocket of spice, my mouth is on fire Anyone else need water? Kelly?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” I was pushing the food around on my plate, nibbling every now and again on a piece of naan.

Rob brought a pitcher of water to the table as the conversation drifted to families and Christmas. He poured a glass of water and set it down in front of me. I gave him a look, and he raised his eyebrows. I took an obligatory sip.

Marianne told a story about how her father would pick their tree, the one that “spoke” to him after meditating in the woods. “It was quite simply the best symbol a girl could have growing up. It defined not just the season but what it meant to be home, knowing that he spent that much time picking a tree to cull from our property.”

Cash explained how, being Jewish, he judged the season by the quality of the movies in the theaters, and how they’d sometimes see three in a row on Christmas Day, to stay out of the house.

“My mother packed an amazing picnic. To this day, I have no idea how she’d get soup and crackers and rock-hard toast into the theater, or how we didn’t make an absolute mess eating it.”

The amount of wine I had had caught up to me. The room wobbled. If I didn’t get some fresh air, I might pass out headfirst in my curry. “I’m too full,” I said. “I’m going to head out to the balcony for some air before dessert.” The table tipped ever so slightly as I stood up.

Rob steadied it. “Grab a coat at least,” he said.

I grabbed a bottle of wine instead.

The temperature was crisp, which made the chill brilliant. Standing outside on the tiny speck of concrete that posed as our balcony, I took deep breaths.Rob. Rob. Rob, I kept repeating in my head.I’m going to marry Rob. Rob. Rob.

The door slid open behind me and Garrett appeared. “Hey. It’s intense in there. Marianne will not let the conversation slip to anyone else. She’s gone from her perfect fucking holiday tree to some inane story about meeting Sarah McLachlan wearing rollerblades when she stopped in Banff during a tour.”

“Marianne was on rollerblades?”

“No, Sarah McLachlan was, apparently, rolling up and down Banff Avenue decked out in knee pads but no helmet, her tour manager or band whatever holding her up. I can’t believe I cared enough to remember that much detail.”

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