All the guests had been Parker’s friends since they were little. Everyone kicked their shoes off as soon as they arrived, lining them up nicely after many years of getting yelled at for making a mess on the foyer floor. Most of them had come to the Christmas Eve party, too, so they just offered general hellos and handed over their car keys before heading downstairs. Laying eyes on Madison for the first time since the summer, though, made Erin gasp.
“Good God, kid, you’re not allowed to grow up this fast,” she said.
Madison grinned and rubbed at a jaw that was much sharper since Erin had last seen them. “Probably more about starting T than anything.”
“Oh, Madison, I’m so happy for you.” Erin hugged them. “But I’m still going to have to demand you stop growing up.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Erin didn’t mind spending New Year’s Eve alone. Rachel was still in Puerto Vallarta, and Jimmy and Melissa were chaperoning Mae’s party, and Erin didn’t like anyone else enough to want to stay up until midnight with them. Plus, she was over the idea of the New Year meaning anything. When Erin had made New Year’s resolutions, they had never been particularly healthy. Lose fifteen pounds, or worse, do what her mother wanted and lose all the weight she hadn’t gotten rid of since having Parker. There had been resolutions about having more sex with Adam, as though that were the issue in their relationship. She’d announced she wasn’t making New Year’s resolutions anymore when she hit thirty, but she’d still made them in her mind until she’d started therapy. Self-improvement did not existon a time line. There wasn’t so much “new year, new you” pressure when Erin was trying to get better every day.
She wasn’t truly alone for the night, anyway—they seemed to be having a battle in the basement over who could be loudest with the noisemakers that were supposed to be for midnight. Even once that was over, the occasional peal of laughter filtered up to Erin. There was an indignant shout she was almost certain was her daughter complaining about whatever game they were playing. Parker hated losing.
Alone upstairs, Erin stretched out on the couch and cracked the spine of her mystery novel. The murderer was the victim’s sister. The author wanted her to think it was the husband, but it was the sister. There was still a quarter of the book to go, but Erin was pretty sure. She squinted at the small print of the paperback. Maybe sheshouldmake a resolution: to get reading glasses.
If she woke up with the book splayed open across her chest, no one had to know she’d taken a nap. She rubbed her eyes and looked at her phone. 11:47P.M. Perfect timing.
When Parker was little, they would always pop a bottle of champagne in the backyard on New Year’s, see how far they could shoot the cork. Tonight, Erin used a folded dish towel to twist the cork, popping it gently into her hand. She turned the TV on to watch the ball drop, but she would’ve known when it fell anyway thanks to the shouted countdown and all those noisemakers downstairs.
Erin poured herself a glass of champagne. As she took her first sip, she heard someone tromping up the stairs. She had an idea who.
Erin prided herself on her poker face. It was something she’d had to perfect throughout her life. Early on, she learned to keep her face blank rather than roll her eyes at her mother. The skill came in handy dealing with patronizing professors, arrogant attendings, any number of people who doubted, ignored, or underestimated her. She used it when telling patients or their families bad news.
But when Cassie poked her head around the corner, Erin’s facebroke open into a smile. Cassie came into the room on her tiptoes, like she was sneaking, even with her heavy steps on her way up from the basement. She was cute as hell.
“What are you doing up here?” Erin asked. “The party’s downstairs.”
Cassie sat so close to Erin on the couch their knees banged together. “Yeah, but I heard the prettiest girl in town was up here.”
It was a ridiculous, obviously tipsy line, but Erin’s chest swelled with warmth anyway. Her laugh was more a giggle than anything.
“How drunk are you?”
“Not as drunk as a lot of those idiots,” Cassie said, taking the champagne glass out of Erin’s hand and setting it on the table.
Erintsked at her. “I love those idiots, Cassie.”
“Yeah, I mean, they’re great, don’t get me wrong,” Cassie said. She waved her arms in a gesture Erin had no idea how to interpret. “But Haylee and Scout have been making out for, like, an hour, and everyone is just letting them shove their tongues down each other’s throats in the corner?” She smirked. “I mean, I get wanting to do that, no matter who is around, but I hope I’m a little more discreet about it.”
Erin quirked an eyebrow. “The middle of the living room is being discreet?”
“Who said I was talking about you?”
Erin might’ve taken her more seriously if she’d been able to say it with a straight face.
“You’re here, aren’t you?” Erin said.
“I just—” Cassie finally seemed to lose some of that confidence she was always walking around with. She scuffed one foot against the carpet. “I mean, it’s New Year’s,” she said eventually. She was looking at the ground when she said, “You’re supposed to kiss somebody at midnight.”
“God, you’re cute.”
Erin kissed her. She didn’t think about how Cassie was her daughter’s friend; she didn’t think about how anyone could comeupstairs at any moment; she just kissed her. It was soft and sweet and absolutely not a bad way to ring in a new year.
When she pulled away, sooner than she’d like—and sooner than Cassie would like, too, if the way she chased Erin’s lips was any indication—Erin asked, “How’d you slip away from the party?”
Cassie blinked like she had to reset her brain after the kiss, and Erin tried not to feel smug.
“I’m gonna FaceTime Acacia from the future. It’s too loud down there.”