Merry Little Hate Notes

Chapter Seven

HOLLY

“DO YOU THINK YOU HAVE a secret admirer? This could be fun. I wonder who it is?” Carmen asked over the phone.

I sat in my car and talked to her Wednesday morning while staring at the sticky notes on the passenger seat, delaying my walk into the office. “I wondered that too. But I don’t think it’s a secret admirer. I mean, who gives sticky notes as a romantic gesture?” Granted, Brandon used to give me the leftover colors he didn’t like, but this was different and weird. And obviously Brandon had zero romantic interest in me—found that out the hard way. Sure, at first I suspected him, given the nature of the gift. But ... “I can’t see a guy saying merry little sticky notes .” Especially not Brandon. He was too smooth for that. Besides, knowing him, he’d have written a hate note with it and booby-trapped the bag with exploding permanent ink or something.

Christian and Brandon had loved playing pranks on me. They’d done everything from replacing all my cute socks with socks printed with their faces on them to hiding a contraption in my room that sounded like a cricket chirping. For weeks I’d searched for the cricket, afraid to sleep in my room for fear it would jump on my face at night. My parents went so far as to hire an exterminator to take care of the pesky insect, to no avail. Christian and Brandon laughed so hard when, by accident, I found the device and ended my cricket nightmare.

Carmen snort laughed. “If some guy said that to me, I would never be able to look at him the same.”

“Right?”

“Well, maybe it was just some nice coworker who thought you needed a little pick-me-up during the holidays.”

I stared at the sticky notes calling my name. Whomever the culprit was, they had no idea what they had done. It was like giving an addict the drug of their choice—and I wanted a little hit so bad. But I knew what it would lead to: A life of crime. The crime of passionate hate, that is. Each hate note Brandon left had me itching to unleash my pen and write things like, Although it’s been said many times, many ways, I hate you. Or Guys like you are why I’m single all the way. They were the most Christmassy thoughts I’d had in years, but it probably wasn’t the best way to jump back into the holiday spirit. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to search for the magic of Christmas again, even though I’d promised my dad I would think about it. I had thought about it a lot, and it terrified me more than it should.

“Yeah, maybe,” I responded.

“Speaking of coworkers—how goes it with Brandon?”

“It’s going,” I sighed. “The dang man went the this-is-a-partnership-and-you’re-going-to-talk-to-me route yesterday.”

“I’m not going to lie—that’s kind of sexy,” she responded.

Oh, she had no idea, and I wouldn’t tell her so, but dang, it was kind of hot. I hated myself for these thoughts. I hated the man more. “I was thinking more like annoying. The Amy-Rita-Joel saga is heating up and now I might not find out what HR has to say about it because I can’t hang out in the bathroom anytime I want. And there are rumors that Amy is willing to give Joel another chance. Rita will not be happy about that. Not to mention there’s a secret bracket going around to find out which men in our office are everyone’s top picks to kiss under the mistletoe. Think March Madness, but they’re calling it Mistletoe Manness. Apparently, the pool of money is pretty serious, but you can only play it in the bathroom.”

“And I thought the gym drama was spicy. I think I want to come work with you.”

“It’s only lively in the bathroom.” I smiled to myself.

“So does this mean Brandon doesn’t have some evil plan to not close any deals?”

I leaned my head against the cold driver’s-side window, wet with condensation. “I don’t know,” I whined. The notes tell me he’s up to something—I just can’t figure out what. “Actually, I might have to go on a business trip with him.”

“What!” Carmen almost broke my eardrum.

I held the phone away from my ear. “I wasn’t expecting this. At all. What am I going to do? It would mean going to Aspen with him, which means driving in the mountains in the winter, which you know is a no for me.” Oh, I had so many charts about the dangers of winter driving in the mountains. There was a lot of riding and dying in them. Not to say I hadn’t been to the mountains in the wintertime. But that was a long time ago when I was normal and happy, like really happy, before I knew life could be so cruel.

In fact, our family had vacationed with the Cassidys in Aspen on a few occasions. It’s where I learned to ski and where I learned that winter sports weren’t for me unless you counted sipping peppermint hot cocoa in the lodge. I was a world-class athlete at that. And there was the fact my brother died on a ski slope. It hadn’t been in Aspen, but we would have to drive by the ski resort where my life had irrevocably changed. Where Holly Hollydays died a painful death along with my family.

“Relax and breathe through your nose,” Carmen tried to help me calm down.

I closed my eyes and did as she asked. “But if this account closes, it would mean we could live our Monica and Rachel lives.”

“You have to do it, then. Please,” she pleaded.

“I know,” I whispered. It was time for me to move on with my life. I knew that. But why did Brandon have to play a part in it? And why the snowy mountain roads?

“You are the bravest person I know. You can do this.”

“I don’t feel brave at all.”

“Are you kidding me? After what you’ve done for your dad and being able to live a different life than you’re used to? Chica, I would have died a long time ago if I had to buy bargain toilet paper and peanut butter. I’m just saying, you’re a hero.”

I laughed. “I’m not sure my bargain-shopping, coupon-clipping ways are heroic.”

“Well, giving up your own life to save your dad’s is.”

My eyes welled up with tears, and the words I wanted to get out got caught in my throat. I never thought of myself as a hero. I just did what I had to do not to lose one more person I loved.

“So go be brave one more time, Holly. A business trip to Aspen with Brandon is nothing compared to what you’ve already done.”

Huh. When she said it like that, it totally made sense. It would be one very uncomfortable day in my life, but that day could lead to better days. How hard would it be to spend a day with the boy I’d daydreamed about marrying and having three daughters with, but who had instead broken my heart?

“You’re right. I’m going to be brave. Which reminds me, I should probably head into work.”

“You got this. Go close that deal and show that sexy man who’s the boss.”

Ugh. He was too sexy for my own good. “I’ll do my best. Have fun with Marco. Bye.”

“Oh, I will,” she trailed off before hanging up.

That left me to brave work once again. I couldn’t believe it was only Wednesday. This was the longest workweek of my life. Especially since I was having delusions that Brandon and I had shared a little moment the day before when he said he didn’t celebrate Christmas either. Something in the way he looked at me—it was like he was trying to connect with me. I’d given that look way too much thought, all the while telling myself I was an idiot. I knew Brandon was an Academy Award level actor. He wouldn’t fool me again. I just wished I knew what he was playing at. What was the endgame for him? And why did he keep leaving me hate notes? I was more than aware that he hated me.

With that reminder, I hauled myself out of my dad’s old BMW that had seen much better days. An icy blast of wind cut right through me. I pulled my long puffer coat, a bargain buy from Costco, tightly around me, gripping my bag with those dang sticky notes in it. I was tempting fate bringing them to work with me. But for some reason, I couldn’t leave them behind or throw them away. It was like I’d found a piece of me that had been missing. Or else I really was a sticky note junkie who’d fallen off the wagon. Maybe if I never used them, I would be okay. Or perhaps fate was telling me to use them.

No. No. No. I didn’t need to resort to childhood antics. I clutched my bag tighter to myself as I fought the wintry winds that made my cheeks feel like they were being pelted with tiny little ice cubes. When I walked into the foyer, I felt like I could finally take a breath without my lungs freezing.

“Hey, Holly,” a male voice rumbled through the foyer.

My gaze drifted toward the voice near the stairs. There I found Jason leaning against the wall near a large watercolor painting like he was waiting for me. “Hello,” I said warily. This was a new development.

He pushed off the wall and swaggered my way. His swagger was more like a lame horse swaying. Or it could be I was just used to Brandon, who walked like he invented swagger. He’d perfected it around his junior year. I really needed to stop thinking about him before my memories fulfilled my worst fears and swallowed me whole. I needed to forget that boy. The boy my dad had perceived as being fascinated by me. He’d fooled us both.

Jason and his Axe body spray landed near me. The aroma, unfortunately, arrived first.

My eyes started to water. Did he bathe in that stuff? That was it. I was starting a campaign to get Axe body spray banned. Surely it was bad for the ozone. I had to take shallow breaths so I didn’t gag.

“How’s it going with Bran ?” he said his name in a taunting tone.

“Uh, fine.” I didn’t feel the need to go into any detail. It was none of Jason’s business. Besides, I needed Brandon to help me close the Artemis deal, and I didn’t need it getting around the office that I couldn’t stand him. The last thing I wanted was for Jason to get any ideas in his head that I wanted to be his BDR. With any luck, I’d be able to quit after my commissions paid out.

I headed up the stairs, hoping Jason would get the hint I wasn’t interested in continuing our conversation .

Jason unfortunately followed. “You seem to be gone a lot from your desk this week.”

Why was he paying attention? I knew how to handle this. I paused on a step and lowered my voice. “I’ve been having some women’s issues.” He could spread that around so no one else questioned my “bathroom breaks.”

Jason’s face turned bright red, like I’d just told him an embarrassing story. What an idiot.

“Uh . . . ,” he stuttered. “Um . . . sorry.”

“Don’t be. Periods are just a natural part of life,” I said for my pleasure, knowing the word period would make him even more uncomfortable. Sure enough, he went from bright red to pale.

“Yeah, okay.” He gaped at me like I was a different species. “I was just checking to make sure everything is all right.”

“Right as rain,” I said, like I wasn’t dreading another day of working with Brandon. I headed back up the stairs.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said insincerely, like he wanted me to be miserable. Maybe not everyone loved Brandon like I’d assumed.

I hoped this was the end of our conversation as I rounded up the second flight of stairs. That was wishful thinking.

“You know, I was wondering”—he looked around before finishing his thought—“if you might want to have lunch together sometime.”

Awkward. Also, where was this coming from? Oh my gosh. Was Jason the merry-sticky-note guy? I was all for men embracing their softer sides, but I don’t know—there was just something a little icky about a guy saying that. Like, I couldn’t even look at him thinking he’d said it, much less share a meal with him. Which I wouldn’t anyway. If I’d learned anything during my time in the bathroom, it was that dating a coworker wasn’t a good idea.

I kept trudging up the stairs, avoiding eye contact. “That’s so nice. But I bring my lunch every day.” It was more economical.

“I could bring my lunch one day too,” he offered. “We could eat together in the common area.”

Was he serious? How did he not pick up on the no-thank-you vibes? Now what was I supposed to say? It had been a while since I’d had any male attention. Truth be told, I never expected it from Jason—nor did I want this kind of attention from him. I was kind of hoping to meet a sexy stranger in Costco one day who shared my affinity for bargains and large bulk bags of dried mangoes. For this reason, I always made sure to linger a little longer in that aisle each time I shopped. Someday the odds had to catch up to me, right?

I continued my ascent up the stairs, biting the inside of my cheek, trying to think of something to say that wasn’t hurtful but got the point across.

“Holly,” Brandon’s voice carried down the stairs.

My head snapped up to find him at the top of the third floor, looking way too good in his warm-brown cashmere sweater and dark jeans, showing he was still a demigod. He lasered in on Jason with a furrowed brow.

As much as I didn’t want to see Brandon, I was grateful for his annoyingly sexy presence.

“What’s up?” I asked way too breathily. Crap. I needed to get that under control, ASAP.

“I need you to send me the slide deck for Granger Outfitters. Their CEO wants to move up the meeting to today.”

“Of course.” I jogged up the stairs as fast as I could. “See you later, Jason,” I called, not giving him a chance to respond. It was like jumping from the frying pan into the fire. Oddly, it felt safer choosing Brandon over Jason.

When I reached the top of the stairs, I found Brandon now glaring at Jason. I had no idea what that was about. Maybe some account executive rivalry. I didn’t care—I was just glad for the excuse to get away from Jason. I’ll tell you this: He wasn’t going to make it out of the first-round bracket on my Mistletoe Manness chart. The body spray and merry little sticky notes were a total turnoff.

I rushed to my favorite desk, despite seeing that Brandon had taken the seat next to it. He had his Office bobbleheads all lined up. If it were anyone but him, I might find that adorable. Instead, I found it irritating. Those toys were a lady magnet. So many women came by every day to shake the bobbleheads and mention how cute they were while they drooled over Brandon. No doubt he’d be their top seed in Mistletoe Manness. Regardless, I needed to put on a good front for Jason and anyone else who thought our partnership wasn’t going well, so I set my things on my usual desk.

As I connected my laptop to the monitor, I noticed the corner of a bright-blue sticky note peeking out from under the monitor base. Grrr. I snatched the stupid note before Brandon returned. You have such a November face, so full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness.

What! He couldn’t use Shakespeare against me. Shakespeare was mine. Besides, he got the quote wrong—it was February face , thank you very much. I looked at my bag with the sticky notes inside, itching to grab them and tell him his brain was as dry as the lone remaining biscuit after a long voyage. I could maybe tell him to elf off, but I was pretty sure I used that last one when we were in high school. How dare he tell me I have a November face. I wasn’t sure what was worse, RGF or this? What did he have against my face?

I got it, I wasn’t a supermodel. No doubt he’d dated dozens of them. Maybe he was even dating a dozen now. What a pig.

I resisted the urge to retaliate. I was going to be the better person. It was one month of my life and then he would go back to Charlotte, and hopefully I would finally get to be Monica Geller. And I would find my Chandler Bing, who would love my frosty, Grinchy face.

I crumpled up the stupid note and tossed it in the trash just in time for the yahoo to witness it. My hands were so shaky I could barely log on to my laptop. I wanted so badly to tell him off. But even more, I didn’t want him to know he could still hurt me. And it did hurt—because once upon a time, I’d thought he found me beautiful.

“Is Jason bothering you?” Brandon whispered like a faux big brother.

I spat out a sardonic laugh. “How ironic. He asked me the same thing about you this morning.”

“And what did you tell him?” Brandon was awfully curious.

I shrugged, leaving him in suspense.

Brandon wouldn’t let it go and slid closer to me, engulfing me in his perfect blend of cedarwood and sage. He should give Jason lessons on how to use cologne. “Do I bother you?”

I typed in my password, refusing to look at him. I wouldn’t want to offend him with my face. “What do you think? ”

He chuckled as if I amused him. “Do you like Jason?”

I squinted at him, wondering if he was for real. Why would he care? Unfortunately, the squinting didn’t make him any less attractive. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I could never take a man seriously who says merry little sticky notes .”

“You think Jason gave you the sticky notes?” He sounded astonished by this.

“Pretty sure. Anyway, let’s keep our communication to work subjects only.”

“Jason is a coworker; therefore, this is a work subject.”

He said it so smugly, I wanted to tell him he could go SANTA-tize himself. Ooh, I would have to save that one in case I fell off the wagon and went sticky note crazy. Look at me, thinking Christmassy again. I wasn’t sure if this was a good thing. Brandon was awakening things he had no right to.

Thankfully, Camille appeared and kept me safe from a life of hate notes. “Everyone, gather around. I have an announcement.”

Every account executive and BDR on the floor gathered near the rock-climbing wall. We all stood in a semicircle, waiting for our leader to enlighten us with this so-called announcement. I had to wonder why she didn’t just post it in Slack or send an email. But I guess that’s why I didn’t make the big bucks. Well, at least not yet. I was going to close that Artemis account if it was the last thing I did.

Brandon couldn’t leave well enough alone and stood near me, which meant his fan club clustered nearby. Trish, Krista, and Jordan, the women heading up Mistletoe Manness, were the most obvious in their admiration for him. Their eyes lit up whenever he was near, and their toothy smiles sparkled and tinged. Their voices even softened and turned to silk whenever they spoke to him. If only they knew what a jerk he was. Although it probably wouldn’t matter—it was amazing what a pretty face could get away with. If that guy in Fifty Shades of Grey hadn’t been attractive and rich, I’m pretty sure he’d be in jail.

“I just met with the executive team, and for the month of December, we will focus on team-building exercises.”

A low hum of disapproval went through the group. I said nothing, but I bet my resting Grinch face came out. Or was that my November face? It was hard to keep track of these things.

Camille plastered on the sternest of looks and scanned the crowd with her steely eyes, silencing any naysayers. “As I was saying,” she snipped. “Starting December first, everyone will take part in a daily holiday-themed exercise.”

Holiday themed? Was this a joke? I muddled through the holiday season—I didn’t participate in it. Thanksgiving’s early arrival on the twenty-third of the month made this year worse, extending the holiday season by a week.

“To make the exercise more fun, each sales team will pair every account executive with their business development rep. Prizes will be awarded to the winning team each day.”

What?! I shouted in my head. “Whose bright idea was this?” I grumbled under my breath. Satan’s?

Surprisingly, Satan himself answered. “I have an idea who.”

“Who?” I couldn’t help but ask Brandon. I needed a name. Whomever they were, I was going to tell Bathroom Jane they were the ones stealing the puzzle pieces and let her have at them. She was scary.

“My wingman,” Brandon mumbled.

Did he say his wingman ? That made zero sense. Not that I didn’t believe he had a wingman—he probably employed one full-time. Oh, the hubris of the man. Well, I was hunting down this mystery guy, and he was going to pay.

Camille excitedly announced the first exercise. “Friday is Ugly Christmas Sweater Day. Partners, feel free to match or just be creative. Each member of the winning team will receive a fifty-dollar Amazon gift card.”

They could keep their gift cards. No way was I buying matching ugly Christmas sweaters with Brandon. Especially since he’d made huge fun of me when I was fourteen and had an ugly-Christmas-sweater-making party. Yeah, I was cool like that.

“That’s it. Back to work,” Camille barked. “I’ll send out a list via Slack later today with the rest of the exercises so you and your partner can prepare.”

Everyone dispersed but Brandon and me. I was in too much of a daze to move, feeling like The Nightmare Before Christmas had come to life. It was one thing to have to work with Brandon. But no way was I getting all cutesy and Christmassy with him. Not when he’d stolen part of my Christmas soul.

“What do you want to do about Friday?” Brandon had the gall to ask, sounding as unexcited as I felt regarding this development.

“Given our history,” I said for his ears only, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out without me.”

He stepped closer, his eyes owning mine and searing right into me. “If you believe that, you don’t remember our history.” Then he stalked off, leaving me speechless.

I just stood there frozen, his words paralyzing me. He was right. I didn’t want to remember our history because it ended with him walking out of my life and taking part of me with him.