Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
That shelf had just come toppling down.
“Holy shit, look at that one,” Justin said, pointing toward a Christmas tree right near the front of the entrance. “I know you’re going to tell me I’m being too hasty, but that might be the winner already.”
He started in toward the entrance, walking under the wood and pine awning that led into the lot. The air had been chilly all night, but now I shivered a little. I knew it was because of my nerves.
“Yeah,” I called out, finally following behind Justin. “Uh, it looks great.”
He furrowed his brow as I walked up. “Earth to Dad,” he said. “Usually you would yell at me ‘til your face was blue if I expressed any desire for the first tree I walked past. You’ve gotta see all your options, blah blah blah.”
“I never yell at you, and you know it,” I said, taking a deep breath. “But yes. You’re nuts if you think you’re picking a tree before seeing each one in this lot.”
Justin laughed. I suddenly found myself wishing I’d worn something nicer tonight—maybe a nice scarf, or a leather jacket, instead of my thick flannel and simple black coat. The only consolation was that Justin seemed oblivious to my sudden nervous energy. He was happily going from tree to tree, weaving in between other people bundled up out here in the cold.
I heard Casey before I saw him, a few minutes later.
“That is not the hippie-ass, free-loving, long-haired Justin I know,” his voice came from behind as he saw Justin’s haircut.
“Check me out,” Justin said, his eyes going wide as he saw his best friend, showing off his hair.
“You look fucking awesome, even if it’s different,” Casey said. “Have you—”
Casey stopped short as I turned, locking eyes with him as he walked up to us.
He looked every bit like a deer caught in headlights. Probably something similar to the brief paralysis I’d gotten five minutes ago.
“If you were going to ask if I’ve found the perfect tree yet, the answer is yes,” Justin said as he walked over to Casey and gave him a big hug, ignoring how strange both of us were acting right now. “But I still have to look at every other tree before my dad will ever let me settle on one. Which, by the way—Casey, this is my dad. Dad, this is Case.”
Casey held out his hand to shake mine. I was trying to act like I’d just met him, and every fiber of my being resisted it.
I didn’t lie.
I never lied. Not to Justin or anyone else. But I couldn’t think of what I could do right now, other than pretend I’d never met him.
“We’ve actually met,” Casey said, lifting an eyebrow right as we shook hands.
“Wait, what?” Justin asked.
Panic hit my blood.
Full, five-alarm, internal panic.
What the fuck was Casey doing?
“Justin, I, uh—” I started.
“We met last week,” Casey said confidently. “He was hanging decorations at Jade Brewery.”
“Oh my God,” Justin said, his face lighting up in a smile. “How cool.”
Relief flooded through me. For a split second I’d wondered if Casey really had been about to drop the full story on Justin, and I would have high-tailed it out of the Christmas tree lot in two seconds flat.
“Your dad’s a great guy, Justin,” Casey said. “And he’s right, you know, about not picking the first tree you see.”
“Case knows I’m always like this,” Justin told me. “It was like that for all of college. First food I see in the cafeteria? That’s the one I want. First girl I go on a date with that semester? She’s who I want to date. I say it makes life simpler.”
“Meanwhile, I can’t make a decision to save my life,” Casey said. “Picking the tiles for my kitchen backsplash? That was a two-week ordeal.”
Justin laughed.
The panic from seeing Justin and Casey in the same place started to settle; just a little. Justin didn’t seem to think anything was strange, and there was no reason Casey and I had to either.
“Stop everything,” I said, nodding over toward the edge of the tree lot, where there were a few food trucks set up. “I see mulled wine.”
“I’ve never had mulled wine before,” Casey said. “Isn’t it sweet?”
“Only very slightly,” Justin said. “But it’s spiced and delicious.”
“If you’ve never had mulled wine, you’re about to have it,” I said. “I’ll get three, and some roasted nuts on the side.”
Alcohol would help. Especially if it was mulled wine.
We took off toward the food trucks, walking under the endless strands of twinkle lights. Everything smelled like pine. I was finally starting to warm up.
And a low, simmering guilt that had been gnawing at me all week was actually, finally starting to dissipate.
We could do this. I could exist in a world where Casey and Justin were both here, and everything felt right.