The Office Party

“You have told me that,” he says, looking at me as if I’m the insane one. “But when have I ever used my time to look into locations for the office party? I verify the budget and sign the check.”

I stare at him, unsure of what to say next.

“Can you ride me with me to the other airport now, so we can discuss a few things?” He motions for me to hand over my duffle bag, but I don’t give it to him.

“Attention, ladies and gentlemen who are scheduled for Flight 2519 with service to Colorado.” A voice suddenly comes over the speakers. “We are now beginning the boarding process.”

“Well,” I say, taking a step back. “They’re calling my flight. I need to get in line.”

“Did you not hear what I said about getting a refund?”

“Loud and clear,” I say, taking another step back. “But they’re boarding, and I’ve emailed you everything that we need to talk about so—Bye!” I turn around and rush down the hall to my gate.

I don’t dare to look over my shoulder.

I pull out my boarding pass and hand it to the gate agent.

“Happy Holidays, Miss Grey.” She returns it to me. “Have a safe flight!”

“Thank you.” I rush onto the jet bridge and take my place in line.

When I make it to my seat, I stuff my bag into the overhead bin and put on my headphones—making it perfectly clear that I don’t want to engage in any small talk with whoever happens to sit next to me. I need to use every single second of this flight to contemplate my next move.

I wait anxiously, hoping Garrett hasn’t bought a ticket at the last minute. That I can put off our inevitable confrontation just a little bit longer.

Several minutes pass, and only a few other passengers join me on the plane. The flight attendant serves me a shot of vodka and looks disturbed when I down it within seconds and ask for another.

“Ladies and gentlemen of Flight 2519, this is your pilot speaking,” a deep voice sounds over the speakers. “Thank you for flying with us this holiday season. Flight attendants, please prepare the cabin for takeoff…” Those words give me the assurance I need.

As the plane rolls down the tarmac, my phone buzzes with a text message.

Garrett—He KNOWS: Do you honestly think you’re going to avoid talking to me for this entire trip?

Me: I’m willing to bet you on it.

Garrett—He KNOWS: How can you say that, when you know I always win…

THIRTEEN

This Christmas

This Christmas

Colorado Springs, Colorado

Savannah

I take my time getting off the airplane when it lands, much to the chagrin of the flight attendants. They sigh loudly every time I double-check my seat, and I’ve heard one of them ask if they should try picking me up and carrying me away together.

“Miss Grey.” The brunette taps her foot. “You have checked that overhead bin twenty times now. There's nothing—absolutely nothing, up there for you. The three of us have another flight to catch, and I’d hate to call airport authorities on you during the holiday season.”

“How long will they keep me in jail if they take me? Are we talking hours or weeks?”

She gives me a look that says, “You don’t want to know,” and points to the exit.

Defeated, I roll my bag off the jet bridge. I stop in every store on the way to baggage claim, giving the universe all the time in the world to open a sinkhole that I can dive into.

By the time I make it to the transportation zone, the last sunlight is fading from the sky, so I scroll through my apps and order an Uber.

When I look up, I squint upon seeing a familiar face by the curb: my long-lost cousin, Taryn.

Ugh. She looks better as a gingerbread cookie with its head bitten off.

Dressed in her sorority’s signature pink and green, she tosses her hair over her shoulder and waves down a valet.

My heart aches at the sight of her, and I know I should turn away and act like she doesn’t exist, but I can’t help but stare. She has that effect on people.

Besides my grandmother, a local legend in her own right, Taryn is the most successful person in our family. She goes out of her way to make sure that we all know it, too.

It’s never enough for her to send a simple “Happy Birthday” or “Happy Holidays” card. She has to send a new Cartier watch with custom diamonds to match. She can’t resist saying little things like, “Four hundred dollars? Oh, I spend that on my lunch,” and, “You like this bag? Well, it’s not too bad for the ten-thousand-dollar price tag.”

She’s also a master manipulator.

When I didn’t get into Alpha Kappa Alpha, she made it her mission to get in and throw it in my face whenever she could. She invited me to parties that exclusively required sorority membership, and when I asked her to stop, she said, “Why? Doesn’t this inspire you to be better?”