A Christmas Delight

26. Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-six

Joel

M y gaze is getting lost in the amber color of the whiskey swirling in my glass when a knock on the door startles me. My body weighs a thousand pounds, so instead of getting up from the couch, I shout for whoever is there to come in without even asking who it is.

The door opens, and Brent’s head appears in the gap. I look back down at my glass without a word. The door closes, and Brent lets himself in, sinking into the armchair to my right.

“I thought we were supposed to meet at the fair tonight,” he says.

“I’m not going.”

“Yeah, I get that. You could have texted me. Or turned your phone on so I could reach you.”

“I forgot.”

I can feel his gaze on me. “What’s happening?”

“Nothing’s happening.”

“You’re good at a lot of things, man, but lying isn’t one of them. Why are you so moody? Did Maisie realize you were a loser and dumped you?” He snickers, but when I don’t react, Brent catches himself, leaning forward in the chair. “Wait, for real? She broke up with you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m the one who did. I’m not sure.”

“Well, what happened?”

A drawn-out exhale escapes me. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“What did you do?”

His accusatory tone makes me look up at him. “Why do you automatically assume it was my fault?”

“Tell me what happened, then.”

“She was flirting with Finn the other day at the fair, that’s what, okay?”

Brent’s face falls a little. “Really?”

“Yeah. He told me she wanted to hang out with him. When I talked to him, he was bringing her a prize he’d won at one of the games. Said she’d wanted him to win it for her.”

Brent lets out a drawn-out sigh, thinking and watching me at the same time. “I mean, do you trust what Finn says?”

“I trust my instinct.”

“If your instinct puts you into fight or flight mode due to your trust issues, I don’t think it’s very reliable.”

“Well, Catherine told me she saw them hugging, so…”

“Are we also going to trust Catherine? What is she even doing here? She’s trying to get to you, that much is obvious.”

I take a swig of whiskey. I don’t know anymore. The other night, I felt blinded, possessed by anger and jealousy. It didn’t feel like simple jealousy, but betrayal. What Catherine did to me keeps jumping back at me. And no, I don’t feel anything for her, like Maisie assumed. A human being couldn’t repulse me more than she does, not even Finn. The manipulation and the lies. The gaslighting. I could see the red flags everywhere, but she always convinced me that it was all in my head and that I was crazy. My feelings for her dwindled before even finding out she was cheating on me. I don’t know why I kept going on. Maybe because I wanted to prove that I could be capable of being in a relationship, of being a family man. But when the truth came out, I felt a hint of relief despite being shattered.

After that, the calls, the texts, the threats, the harassment made me lose hope in humanity. People are selfish and rotten, and they will use you and hurt you and toss you aside without batting an eye.

I wanted to believe Maisie was different. She looked so innocent, almost pure. A ray of sunshine that had melted the icy armor around my heart. But that ice curled around me again the other day. No matter my feelings for her, I can’t let someone hurt me like that again, especially because it’d be worse with her. It is worse. It makes me want to drink into oblivion.

“I need to protect myself,” I tell Brent after a while.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it, man. That’s too bad. I liked her. Dad too.”

“It’s not like we were truly dating.”

“You brought her home to a family dinner. Of course, you were dating, you idiot.”

My fingers tighten around the glass. I liked it when she was in my childhood home, hearing stories from my past. I liked how much Dad liked her. But it was just a dream. I was dating her, but she wasn’t dating me.

“You can go home now, Brent.”

“We should get some food,” he says, ignoring me. “Grab some pizza or something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

He stands up. “You’re not just gonna stay here and mope around. Come on, the fresh air will do you some good. We’ll just take something to go and eat here, alright?” He walks up to me and snatches the whiskey glass away. “All done with that. Let’s go.”

I groan but grab my jacket and follow him out the door. The freezing air slaps my face, shaking me out of my drunken torpor. Before, the sight of Maisie’s unlit Christmas decorations would irritate me. Now, though, it’s relief that fills me. It keeps the memory of us putting the lights up away. Brent and I don’t talk on the way to the pizza place. He knows when to keep silent, and I’m grateful for it.

We turn the corner. Two men are talking and laughing in front of the café further ahead. Without really knowing why, I stop walking, holding out my arm to stop Brent.

“What can I say, you underestimated my charisma, dude.”

It’s Finn, engrossed in a conversation with a coworker. “No matter what I say to these girls, they always come crawling back,” he says. “They’re so gullible.”

His friend laughs. “All she did was accept your apology, that doesn’t mean anything. I can still win the bet.”

“How about we double the price?”

“Only if you move the deadline. Sleep with her before New Year’s Eve.”

Finn thinks about it for a few seconds. “That only leaves, like, two weeks.”

“Looks like you overestimated your charisma, then.”

“Alright, you’re on.”

They shake hands. Anger rises in me, leaving a bitter taste in the back of my throat. The need to protect Maisie, which I’ve felt toward her from the start, resurfaces, bright and sharp. I walk to Finn, whose back is turned to me, and grab the collar of his jacket. I spin him around, getting a surprise yelp out of him as I slam him again the wall and loom over him.

Brent says my name, but I ignore him.

Finn holds his hands up in surrender. “Whoa, calm down.”

“Making bets about my girl, dimwit?”

He lets out a nervous laugh. “Wait, that—that’s not what it looks like.”

“It’s just for fun, man. He doesn’t care about her,” his coworker says, as though it’s supposed to make it better.

I raise my eyebrows at Finn. “You don’t?”

“No,” Finn eagerly answers, hoping to pacify me. “I don’t care, we were just fooling around. But she’s all yours. Bet’s off.”

“What did she tell you when you saw her at the fair, exactly?”

“I already told you.”

“I think you’re lying.” I loomed closer to him. “Tell me. I wanna know about the whole conversation you had with her.”

“Okay, okay. She didn’t say we should hang out, alright? I just apologized to her about my behavior at the restaurant. I pretended I wanted to be friends, and I shook her hand, and I hugged her. That’s it, I swear.”

“She didn’t ask for that penguin?”

Finn shakes his head. “I just wanted her to think I was nice. That woman told me that’s what girls liked.”

I frown. “That woman? What woman?”

“Tall, pretty, dark, reddish hair.”

Brent lightly taps my shoulder. “Joel.”

My fingers are clamped so tight on Finn’s collar that my knuckles have turned white. My face is inches from his, and fear dances in his eyes. I force my hands open and take a step back, registering his words. “Did she give you a name?”

Finn readjusts his jacket and looks at me with disdain. “No.”

“Well, what did she say?”

I take a step forward, and Finn steps back reflexively. “I came to the café, and we started talking. She heard me talk about Maisie and gave me some tips, that’s all. Can I go back to work now? Or do you want to be more violent?”

He doesn’t wait for the answer and flees back inside the café, followed by his coworker.

I stand there on the sidewalk, my brain trying to process the information I’ve just received. Anger grinds my guts.

“I can’t believe this guy,” I say, turning to Brent.

“A real champion.”

“Who the hell does that? Pretending to be nice just to sleep with a girl he doesn’t even care about?”

“Lots of guys are like that, I’m afraid.”

I stammer to find my words. “He—that’s his fault. He thought he’d have some fun and swooped in to play the nice guy, thinking Maisie would fall for it.” Now that I think about it, she didn’t. Not that I know of. She merely accepted an apology. Because she’s sweet and kind and doesn’t want to hold a grudge. And I took that as a betrayal. “That’s his fault,” I say again. “And Catherine? She meddled to try to break things off between Maisie and me. They broke us up. They messed things up. I can’t believe Catherine managed to get to me and put these doubts in my head.”

I’m so angry that for a moment, I don’t notice the way Brent is looking at me. He pinches his lips, obviously wanting to say something, but not finding the right way to.

“What?” I tell him after a while.

He sighs. “Please, don’t take this the wrong way. I know you’re hurting.”

“Just spit it out.”

“It wasn’t Finn, Joel. Or Catherine. They didn’t mess things up between you and Maisie.”

I look at him, confused for a second. Then realization comes crashing down on me. It feels like being rammed into by a train. It’s hard to believe I could be so blind, so stupid, so deeply stuck in denial that I couldn’t see the truth from the beginning.

“You’re right, they didn’t,” I say. “I did.”

Brent gives me a sad, compassionate smile. “You need to break those walls, man. Don’t let the past define you. Don’t let it keep you away from something really good. Because I truly believe that Maisie is good.” He chuckles. “Too good for you, even.”

“Shut up,” I say, half-smiling despite the deep, empty hole in my chest. “How do I make this right? I need to make this right. Even if she hates me forever, I need to let her know that I’m sorry.”

“Then do just that. Tell her you’re sorry.”

It’s that easy, and yet it feels daunting. I’m not too proud to apologize, but I dread to face her and see the disgusted look she’ll have on her face when she sees me.

For now, the only thing I can do is call the number Catherine used to contact me. It rings only twice before she picks up.

“What a nice surprise,” she says, her voice like honey.

“Congratulations. What you did worked. Maisie and I are over.”

“So sorry to hear about that, but I didn’t do anything.”

I let out a bitter chuckle. “You’re right. You knew I would destroy everything myself.”

“Joel, I can tell you’re upset. How about I meet you at your place?”

I sigh, willing myself to stay calm. “Go home, Catherine. Once I hang up the phone, I will block this number. But before I do, I want to make it clear that I never want to see you or talk to you again.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do. And if you show up at my place, I’ll call the cops on you. You got that?”

I don’t wait for her to answer and hang up the phone, blocking the number before she can call me back.

“At least one thing done right,” Brent says.

“Yeah. At least one.”