“Call me Bill.”
“It’s so nice to meet you, Bill.”
We talk and giggle some more and her dad drags a fake tree and some ornaments in from the garage. The three of us set it up and get the lights on. Hayley and her dad are going above and beyond to include me, but my heart isn’t in it. I don’t feel very festive. I was looking forward to spending Christmas with Killian and our trip to Las Vegas for his brother’s wedding. I felt like the biggest turd on the planet when I told Noelle I had to back out. I told her the same lie I gave everyone else. That I was going to Paris. I am such a miserable liar that I even photoshopped a picture of me standing in front of the Louvre and posted it on my social media.
I blocked Killian though it killed me to do so because it means that I can’t see his posts either. I am sure if I asked Haley would let me be nosy from her account, but I have to stay strong. I have to stick to my plan of a clean break for the two of us.
I excuse myself to the bathroom and sit on the side of the bathtub holding my cell in my hands. I deleted Killian from my contacts, but I still have photos of him saved to my gallery.
I swipe through them and send them to my cloud before I delete them all. The last picture is one he made me take of us standing by his car. I was trying to hold the phone away from us, but he kept kissing me and somehow, I captured the perfect shot of us. My finger hovers over delete. Zooming in on our faces I trace the outline of his. My bad boy. A tear slides down my cheek. I’d give almost anything to see him one more time. To feel his lips on mine. My finger hovers over the delete button once more. Sucking in a breath I close my eyes and press erase.
Erasing him from my heart isn’t as simple.
**
“Get up, bitch. It’s Christmas.” Hayley shakes me and I grumble.
“Bah humbug.”
“Oh, come on. Dad made pancakes just for you and you don’t want to hurt his feelings,” she whines.
“Fine. Give me like ten minutes to feel human.”
“As opposed to what an alien?”
“Stop it. You’re so cheerful I can’t stand it.”
“Okay, Grumpy McGrumperson.”
Hayley shuts the door behind her, and I throw the covers off. Groaning and stretching, I get up and grab my stuff for the shower. It’s going to take me a lot to get moving since I can’t have coffee anymore in the mornings. Shuffling my way to the shower my head snaps up when the doorbell rings. Hayley didn’t mention that they’d have company today.
“I’ve got it, Dad,” I hear her call out. I pause at the bathroom door. “Oh. My. God. What are you doing here? Liam!”
My heart pounds in my chest.
“I wanted to surprise you. And this idiot came along for the hell of it.”
“Hey, Hayley.” I let out a breath. Is that Woodrow? What the hell are him and Liam both doing here? It’s Christmas. Shouldn’t they be with their families? What’s going on?
“Um. I’m seriously confused right now. Why are you here together?” I hear the panic in her voice, but I can’t see them right now. I close the bathroom door and get in the shower, taking my time. Maybe by the time I am finished washing my hair for the third time they’ll be gone.
The hot water has long disappeared, and I know I can’t hide in here forever. I get dressed and wrap my hair in a towel. When I come out of the bathroom, I can hear Haley giggling. I can slip back into the guest room to hide a while longer, but what if they stay all day? I war with myself over what to do. Hayley sounds like she has things under control. She doesn’t need me to come to her rescue, but I’m hungry, and I have to take bett
er care of myself.
I creep down the hallway and peek around the corner. There are three heads with their backs to me on the couch. The floorboard creaks and everyone turns to stare at me. Liam, Woodrow, and Killian.
“Fuck,” Liam mutters, and I freeze in place.
Killian does something completely unexpected. He turns around and ignores me completely.
I stare at my feet and enter the kitchen. I help myself to breakfast and carry my plate out onto the back patio where Bill is drinking coffee. I let my damp hair down from the towel and hang it over the back of my chair.
“Thanks for breakfast.”
“My pleasure. Them boys not friends of yours?”
“Something like that.” I stab at my pancakes and shovel a forkful into my mouth so I can’t be forced into further conversation. I wash the food down with orange juice and pray I don’t get sick. I don’t usually get sick unless I feel stressed.