A Curvy Carol (A Curvy Girl Christmas #2)

19. Carolynn

19

CAROLYNN

T he next day was Christmas morning, and this year, it was Dad’s turn to spend it with me.

So I’d packed up my things after I’d gotten home yesterday and headed to his house.

While his house was in Garland, too, and it was nice enough, I still missed my bed and my room at Mom’s house. That’s where I stayed throughout the week, while I spent most weekends with Dad.

This was the part of the holidays I hated the most. I couldn’t just stay in one place. I had to be traded back and forth every single year like a library book being shared between patrons.

But I tried to focus on what I was grateful for, like how hard my dad tried to make Christmas morning special, even though I wasn’t a little kid anymore. He had several presents under the tree for me. So I went to get a box cutter while he waited in the living room on the couch with a cup of coffee.

I dug through the junk drawer in the kitchen, wondering what Dad had gotten me. I was hoping for more cross-stitching and crochet supplies, but really, I had gotten everything I wished for this Christmas: to enjoy myself. It hadn’t happened the way I imagined… Spending it with Whit was even better.

I kept rummaging, taking out a large envelope and setting it on the counter so I could see where the box cutter was hiding. That’s when I noticed Whit’s name in a messy scrawl on the front of the envelope.

I picked it up. Had I read that right? Then again, not a ton of names started with a W.

Yeah, it definitely said Whit.

I froze for a second, wondering what an envelope with his name on it was doing in my dad’s house.

Without even thinking about it, I peeked inside the unsealed envelope, pulling out the flap. There was a significant stack of cash in there.

Now I was even more confused.

What did this mean?

With the box cutter completely forgotten and hardly feeling my legs, I made my way to the living room.

“Dad?” I said, holding up the envelope. “What’s this?”

Dad quickly sat up from the couch. “Oh, that,” he said.

“Yeah,” I replied. “What’s this about?”

Right away, I could tell he didn’t want to answer the question, which only made the pit in my stomach grow larger.

“Well,” he said. “Lots of kids have winter jobs, so I wanted to make sure he wasn’t worried about working while spending time with you.”

My brain short circuited. “You’re paying him?” I managed. “And he knew about it?”

Dad cleared his throat. “Well, your mom and I know how hard the holidays can be for you, honey, and we just wanted you to have fun…”

It was like he’d dumped ice water over my head. Just when I thought I had a holiday free of my parents’ antics, they’d been pulling the strings all along. It made my stomach turn. Because I’d thought what Whit and I shared was real, not him performing a job for compensation. “So, all along, you were paying him to hang out with me?” I repeated, wishing that he’d correct me. If not, I thought I was going to throw up.

“I just wanted to make sure he didn’t miss out on the cash he could have made with a part time job,” Dad told me, but I was hardly hearing him anymore.

The envelope fell from my hand. I turned tail and left the room. If I stayed, I would say something I’d regret. Or worse, I’d start crying and not be able to stop.

I made it to my room and shut the door behind me, hard.

Slowly, I got into bed and pulled the covers around me. My entire body felt numb.

I couldn’t stop playing back every interaction with Whit in my mind. And now I realized he always insisted on paying.

Riding the train, making the snowman, eating at Scrooge’s, getting our nails done…

Kissing at Mistletoe Hill.

It had all been for money.

He hadn’t just done it because his parents made him. The only reason he’d hung out with me was because my parents had paid him to.

I shut my eyes and pulled the covers tighter around me like I could smother the flaming hot pain slicing through me. The tears came anyway.

I’d come to have real feelings for Whit, but spending time with me had just been a part-time holiday job for him.

I should’ve known a guy like him would never go for a girl like me.

But I had wanted it to be true so bad.

I’d wanted my Christmas wish to come true.

Well, it looked like Christmas wishes didn’t come true after all, not when I’d wished for my parents to stay together, and not even now.

This was truly the worst Christmas ever, which was really saying something.

More and more tears streamed down my face.

A few minutes later, Dad knocked on my door, but I ignored him.

I couldn’t believe my parents had done this to me.

This was a thousand times worse than doing all of their stupid Christmas activities.

How could they be so heartless?

And Whit.

How could he do this? I’d genuinely thought he was a good guy. But all along, he’d just been doing it for the money. He was a really good actor, making the lonely girl fall for him.

I had half a mind to confront him about it, give him a piece of my mind.

But I didn’t think my heart could handle it.

Instead, things were over between us. I was not going to talk to him at all, ever again.