A Christmas Delight

17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Maisie

T he restaurant’s chatter drowns out Finn’s voice. Or maybe it’s the thoughts crowding my brain that are doing that. He’s been talking about himself nonstop, and pretending to be interested is a lot harder than I thought it would be when all I can think about is Joel. I can’t believe the things he said to me. And I can’t believe I’m letting myself be hurt by his words. He doesn’t know anything. He can’t understand.

“If you want my advice, I think you could rebrand your whole shop with a more modern look, with cleaner lines and colors.”

I look up from my plate, forcing myself to come back to the present. “Cleaner lines and colors? What does that mean?”

“Well, you know, it’s really flashy now. It’s overwhelming. A bit tacky. I think it would look much better with a white storefront, or black and white, with the name in silver. Maybe a different name, even.”

“Why would I change the name?”

He chuckles, as though my question is stupid. “Donut Delight? It’s a little simple, isn’t it? How about The Donut Factory?”

“I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”

“You’d make a lot more money.”

I look back at my plate, wrapping the spaghetti around my fork. Joel’s words echo in my head. Grow a spine. “People are loving the ambiance though.”

Finn scoffs. “For now. Because it’s new.”

“Right.”

I can’t bring myself to eat. My appetite has gone since I saw Joel.

“Are you gonna eat all that?” Finn asks.

“Excuse me?”

He shrugs. “Just saying. That’s a big plate.”

“No. I’m not really hungry.”

“Good choice. Next time, order a salad or something.”

Finn, on the other hand, devours the contents of his plate, while his words register in my mind. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He looks up at me, confused. “What?”

“Why is it good for me not to finish my plate?”

“Just, you know. You’re cute, but you could do with losing a few pounds. Making donuts all day won’t help your case.”

My mouth hangs ajar as Finn keeps eating as though he hadn’t just insulted me. People have said mean things to me in my life, but not so straightforwardly. Even my own mother, who was never really satisfied with me or my way of living, doesn’t tell me hurtful things like that, not so directly. She prefers passive aggressive comments and guilt tripping. Or gifts that send you a message.

And that’s when it hits me like a slap in the face.

Joel was right.

The realization sends a hot wave wash through my body. My pride is hurt, destroyed. But still, he was right about Finn, and he was right about me. Finn’s a jerk, and I have no backbone.

The waitress comes to our table, smiling a pleasant smile. “Can I take this out of the way?”

Finn wipes his mouth with his napkin, pushing his plate away. “Yeah, she’s done.”

I wasn’t even hungry. I didn’t really want to finish my plate. But a burning sensation is rising in my chest. I messed things up with Joel, I might as well ruin the rest of this night. It’s not like it was a good night to begin with.

“Would you like to see our dessert menu?” the waitress asks.

“No, we’re good—”

“Actually, I already know what I want,” I say, cutting him off. “The molten lava chocolate cake and its salted caramel sauce. Extra whip cream.”

The waitress nods. “Vanilla ice cream okay with that?”

“That’s perfect. Can I have it to go? I’d like the check too, please.”

“You got it. I will be right back.”

I give her a gracious smile, then turn back to Finn as though nothing happened. He looks at me with those piercing blue eyes, his mouth opened a fraction. His black hair shines in the light of the chandelier above us. His skin is smooth and nearly perfect. He really has a beautiful face, but that doesn’t make him attractive in the least. I can’t believe I made myself wear a form fitting dress with a cleavage and tights for that guy.

He scoffs again, biting his lip and silently judging me. Still, after a moment, he says, “Do you want to go for drinks afterwards?”

“No, thank you.”

“How about my place?”

“No.”

The smug little grin is finally vanishing from his face. “So, what? You’re just going to take your dessert and stuff your face at home?”

The waitress comes back with the check, which she puts on the table before handing me a takeout box and wishing us a pleasant evening.

I thank her, then open my wallet as I stand up. “That’s exactly what I’m gonna do.” I grab two fifty-dollar bills, which are enough to cover for the meal and the waitress’s tips. “Also, my business is doing very good.”

“Don’t be so emotional about it, I was just trying to help.”

“When you own your own business, maybe we can talk.”

The sight of his face falling is bringing me more joy than I thought possible.

“In the meantime, if you have more unsolicited advice to offer, you can shove it where the sun don’t shine.”

I grab my stuff, my dessert, and leave the restaurant without looking back. What a waste of time. The interaction has left me feeling flushed, so I carry my coat over my arm instead of putting it on as I stride home.

See? I can stand up for myself. The time where I let people walk all over me is over. I told Joel off. I told Finn off, too, in a way. All that’s left to do is to tell my mother off. She has no right to barrel into my life and tell me how I should or should not be. She has no right to guilt trip me into doing what she wants.

In a matter of minutes, I reach my house. All the Christmas lights are out, and the frustration grows hot in my stomach. It’s time to tell her all the things I’ve kept to myself. That I feel fine the way I am. I don’t need to do more, or better, or change. The way I am is good.

Is it, though?

After the way I behaved with Joel, I can’t possibly think that I deserve someone’s respect. Instead of being honest with my mother, with Joel, with myself even, I tried to play games.

Plumes of condensation rise into the air with each exhale. My legs don’t move. Soon, my breathing slows down, and the cold is clawing at my skin. Tears prick my eyes. I clench my teeth, trying to fight them back, but they roll down my cheeks anyway.

Telling someone off is one thing. I don’t care about Finn. But it’s different with my mom. She raised me, took care of me. She has her own wounds that she never healed, and I feel bad about that.

Do you really lack personality that much?

Boy, he was spot on. How can you have a personality when you’ve spent most of your life trying to please someone? When you feel rejected as soon as you show your true self?

A sob escapes my mouth. I drop my coat on the snow piled up at the edge of my fence and sit on it. I sink slightly, creating a seat with the shape of my behind. I bury my face in my hands, ashamed of the person I am. I’m not ready to go home yet, and even less ready to talk to her. There’s nothing to say, anyway. Not today, at least. Maybe never.