I nod, closing my eyes and squeezing around Vick’s ribs, letting out a shuddering breath. I can’t do anything else but nod, not wanting to get emotional right now.

  “All right, all right, let her breathe, Max, Jesus.” Vick says pushing Max off of my back, and Max goes down to her heels, and it’s the first time I see her makeup.

  “Holy shit, that lipstick is awesome, is that an olive green? Ah, I love it,” I say, wishing I was that cool to be that adventurous with the makeup on my face. I don’t know why I don’t just try it sometimes, just even at home, to get myself used to seeing a bright blue eyeshadow look on myself, but I just don’t.

  I don’t do a lot of things, I’m noticing, not a lot of things at all.

  How can I be this tired of my life at weeks-away-from-thirty? How is that a thing?

  “Yeah, it’s green! Looks great, huh!” Max grins, fluffing her hair back like she’s waiting for a professional photographer to show up at any second to take a hundred pictures of her.

  “Shit, and green eyeshadow?! I love it.” I nod enthusiastically at her. “I want this look when you come over next time. Turn me into a green witch queen, please.”

  Vick snorts, crossing her arms over her chest, wearing a silk blouse with leopard print on it, clashing beautifully with her blue hair.

  What is happening? Who is happening? Why is it happening?

  “Wow, Vick, you look gorgeous!”

  Vick’s side shave has grown out just a little bit more so I’m not seeing just scalp, and she’s dyed that part silver, and it meshes so well with the bright blue that I’m jealous. They’re like beautiful bright-colored birds, and I’m just this drab little finch with my boring colors.

  There’s something boiling inside of me, twisting and churning like a writhing snake that wants to break free.

  I think that’s from a movie, Amber.

  Am I going to have a post-quarter-life crisis a few years too late? Is that what this is, being bombarded with all of these realizations?

  “What? What’s wrong?” Vick asks, dropping her hands and placing them on my shoulders. “Do you want a breather, want to go for a walk?”

  I shake my head. “Maybe after. I think…I think I need to talk.”

  “Praise the Lord of Makeup, and all the Queens who have brought us this far on their backs!” Max praises, arms raised high, ready to get down on her knees and start genuflecting, of all things.

  It puts a smile on my face, which I think was the whole point.

  Vick grins at Max’s antics and pretends to kick at her. “Yeah, yeah, Drama Queen, move your ass. Aunt Meg wants us to start putting the food on the table. Keep it moving, let’s go, let’s go.” Vick frog-marches us out of the hallway and back into the kitchen. Aunt Ella has her daughter, Izzy, in a headlock, and then lets her go and fixes her hair for her and if that doesn’t explain parenthood in a nutshell, then I don’t know what does.

  We move the plates into the dining room, Max nearly breaking her toe when she kicks a chair and exclaims, “Bitch down! Bitch down!” and it has me laughing hard enough that I nearly drop the salad bowl and get lettuce and vinaigrette everywhere.

  “Shit, shit, that hurt. Is my foot still there? Did I lose it?” Max asks, staying on the ground before I safely put the salad bowl on the table and bend down to check on her.

  “Yeah, you’re good. Want me to look if you cracked the nail?” I ask, not the least squeamish about these kinds of things, while Vick gags next to me.

  “No, no, don’t do that, not while I’m here!”

  Max brings the afflicted foot up (sock still on), and waves it around, and Vick pulls a fist back and pretends to go for it but pulls it short in time so there actually is no violence to be had.

  I help Max get to her feet, and it’s normal, it’s how we used to be, antics and all. And yeah, maybe everyone’s right, I’ve been closed off, and kept myself apart because I’ve been ‘busy’.

  What the hell?

  I gotta work on my work-life balance, like ASAP.

  We finally have all the plates on the table, and we’re all seated with me sitting between Max and Vick—like always, like we didn’t fight at Thanksgiving.

  It’s only when we’re all seated that I notice the empty chair at the far end of the table, as if my mom is waiting for one more person.

  I glance at her, and she shakes her head, shrugging, as if saying I had to at least try…

  I look down at my plate of food, all of us coordinating and moving plate to plate around as we all take our own servings.

  “You good?” Vick leans over to ask, pinching me in the ribs, until I look over at her.

  I nod slowly, then shake my head.

  Vick boops her own nose, then points at me. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry. Get through the meal, and we can go for a walk between now and dessert, yeah?”

  I can’t even enjoy the food—me, not enjoying food? —as I keep glancing over at that empty chair across from us, being all empty, without Brody.

  When did my brain start to fill him in at family gatherings? When did that become a thing?

  When did it start to feel like home when Brody was around, and I didn’t even realize it?

  My stomach lurches as I come to the sickening realization that I’ve made a grave mistake, and I don’t know what to do about it.

  TWENTY

  It’s more of a waddle than a walk, but all three of us move slowly down the front stairs, and I lead them to do the larger loop of our block, each of us taking our time, enjoying the cooler air since it feels like it helps us digest. This might be the first year at Christmas that I actually don’t feel like exploding and I’m taking that as a win, even though the reason for it is definitely in the con column.

  “So…” Max says, waving at a car that drives by, cackling when the stranger waves back. “See? It’s like a reflex. I love human beings, we’re so cute.” She rounds on me, walking backwards for every step I take forward and it’s up to me now to watch out for any obstacles lest she fall flat on her ass and crack her tailbone.

  Max tilts her head at me, a small smile along the corner of her mouth that could be called a sneer if you didn’t really know her all that well.

  “What?” I ask, huffing out a breath, pulling up the zipper of my coat so I’m snuggled warm inside and the cool air isn’t attacking the exposed skin of my throat. Our boots snap against the pavement in time, and I wonder how three people can be so in sync physically, but as far apart as can be when it comes to everything else about us.

  I sigh, knowing it’s coming but wanting to delay the inevitable as much as possible. “What do you want me to say?”

  Vick grunts something unintelligible, and Max grunts something back that I can’t make out, and I swear I’m going to take both of their heads and knock them both together just as soon as I can muster the energy to move.

  “Come on, Amber, you said you were gonna talk, yeah? So talk. Use your words,” Max coaxes, holding her palms up and out like she’s going to catch the words that I’m going to utter. She gives me a reassuring smile and a nod, and that tightness in my chest starts to loosen, just a little bit.

  “I…I don’t know where to start, and I’m not really sure how to talk about all this.”

  “Start at whatever point, and we’ll ask questions if we need clarification. Come on. Talk, Amber, you’ll feel better.”

  I squint at Vick. “I’m going to ruin my basic bitch makeup and I didn’t bring anything with me to fix it, so I don’t think it’s going to make me feel better. Besides, I don’t want everyone to see the inevitable mascara streaks on my face. I do have priorities, and a reputation to uphold. I’m an ice queen remember?”

  Max shrugs. “I’ve got makeup in my car. What? Does no one else have an emergency stash? Really. Huh. That explains so much.” She shakes her head, as if trying to make herself focus. “And I can fix anything. I’ve got a tiny bottle of micellar water that’s good unless the temperature drops to twenty below, but I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon.” Max adjusts her tuque, fluffs up the pom-pom at the tail end and re-settles it on her head, being mindful of her long, wavy hair.

  “Jesus, Amber, say something, anything. You know I hate the cold,” Vick groans.

  “Nobody likes the cold, jerkface, and you said you wanted to go for a walk!” I turn back towards the house with a huff, but I’m pulled back by each arm, looking over at Max to my right and Vick to my left, teaming up on me, the traitors.

  I shake my arms a little. I know I could break their hold if I really wanted to, but it’s all just for show, anyway. I want to stay right where I am, be told it’s okay to stay right where I am.

  “I think I messed up. I think I screwed up, badly.”

  “Okay,” Vick says, her deeper voice soothing, with no underlying current of disappointment. “Okay, why do you think that?”

  I bite at my bottom lip to keep it from trembling, and I let out a shaky breath. “I…like three weeks ago, my mom invited Brody and I over for a brunch. No, it was longer than that, yeah? I don’t know, closer to four weeks, or more… Ah, time does funny things during the holidays and since I’ve been off work, I’m having trouble figuring out what day it is.”

  Max nods along. “We literally do not care when the event happened. Like, it’s good to have a general timeline of events, but it doesn’t matter. So, keep going. We’re here and we love you, even if you’re dumb sometimes.”

  I smirk at that. I’m the one with the most education out of the three of us, of the entire Prewitt family right now (if you count the number of degrees I’ve racked up), but it doesn’t matter, not one bit when it comes to the real stuff.

  “I…we were having brunch, and then Mom wanted to talk to me alone, and Brody went to eat brunch in the living room with my dad, and Mom went to town, getting nosy about Brody and me. And I kinda lost it a little bit. Well, a lot, and I kinda went on a rant.

  “Just freaking out about Brody, about him leaving again—when he told me to my face that he’s not even sure if he’s leaving in January, and apparently every ten fucking years he asks his dad if it’s a good time to marry me, and it’s made me crazy. I don’t know… I’m terrified, I got so scared, I don’t want to go through that shit again, and how fucking pathetic is it that I can’t get over him? It’s been a whole decade, ten years—I’m a different person now, what? I am.”

  “Okay, there, ice queen, I’m still listening. Keep going,” Vick says, giving a squeeze around my arm, reassurance and admonishment all rolled into one.

  “And he walked into the kitchen when I said something like ‘why did he come back into my life?’ and he looked…he looked like I stabbed him, and it hurt, but I just kept going, kept digging the hole.” My breath hitches, and Max and Vick tighten their hold on my arms, like they’re preparing themselves to hold me upright when I inevitably ask to sit down.

  “Kept telling him that we can’t be together, that it’s stupid for us to be with each other, that we missed our chance.” I shake my head, gulping down audibly.

  “And now…? What about now?” Max whispers as we take slow steps back towards the house. “Amber? What about now?”

  I let the tears fall, know Max has got my back when it comes to the status of my face. “I’m just…I’m sad. Really, really sad. Why am I like this, Jesus Christ.”

  “Why are you like what? Does someone need a pep talk for the ages?” Vick asks, and Max snorts.

  “Why are you trying to sound like me?”

  “Why are you trying to make me sound like you, huh? Zip it. It’s Amber-time.”

  “I don’t really have anything else to say, really. Except I think I really really screwed up. When I saw the empty chair in the dining room today…he should’ve been there. I should have told him I wanted him there, that he was my first love, and I never really stopped loving him. God, I’m an idiot, right? Am I being an idiot? Tell me what to do.”

  Vick squeezes my arm again, leans her head onto my shoulder. “You know I love you, right? Like a whole lot? You’re one of my best friends and I love you with my heart and soul, but shit, Amber. Shit.”

  “I know! I know! Don’t you think I know! Let’s get back inside before my ass cheeks freeze over,” I say, and we make our way back up the front stairs and then take off our boots, keeping our coats on until we climb the stairs and get to my old bedroom that’s also been turned into a guest bedroom.

  We plop on the old mattress in a weird sort of cuddle pile that has a lot of slipping and sliding from the material of our coats.

  Max laughs outright and then plops down on her back and stares at the ceiling, Vick’s still on top of me, crosswise, and I find myself having a Vick-version of a weighted blanket and I’m not mad about it, not at all.

  “So what do you want to do? Do you want to change a little bit and go after Brody, or sit here being miserable?” Max asks, doing a winter coat snow angel in my old bed, her coat making those swishing noises against the fancy schmancy duvet.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yeah, you do,” Vick mumbles into the blanket, then pushes herself up and smacks me hard on the ass that I end up yelping and sitting upright real fast that it makes me dizzy.

  “Ouch! Why would you do that?”

  “Shut up, you’re being an idiot. I’m going to give it to you straight, but are you going to listen, Amber? I’m going to say my two cents and I want you to listen to me, to hear me like you haven’t been for a while.”

  I nod my head, pulling my legs out from under me and stretching them out, my back against the wall. Max plops her legs over my thighs, keeps on swishing, while Vick paces the length of the bed, back and forth, back and forth.

  “What’s the matter with her?” I ask Max.

  She puts a key and lock over her lips, opening her mouth. “I’ve been sworn to secrecy and have been threatened with YouTube cancellation if it were to ever get out without Vick actually telling you first, and I kinda need the job, Amber. No hard feelings, eh?” She mimes locking her mouth back up again, and I just stare between the two of them, not getting it.

  “What? What did I miss?”

  Vick bites at her bottom lips, disrupting her satin lipstick, realizing it, and groaning in frustration. “Shit. Okay, okay. Well, I think I met someone pretty freaking special,” she says, and I sit there, dumbstruck, still not getting it.

  Vick nods, like that’s all there is to it.

  “That’s it, you’re not going to say anything to me?” Vick asks, throwing her hands out, ready to catch what I’m going to dish out.

  I shake my head. “I’m in a state of shock, I’m buffering. I need a moment to process—hold, please.” I glance at her, and Vick still keeps from saying anything, and it’s gonna drive me up the wall. “Okay…is this person a male or female?”

  “What?”

  I shrug. “I don’t make assumptions anymore, and sexuality is a fluid thing, and you can like only girls sexually, or only boys sexually, or both, or not want them sexually at all! You haven’t really dated all that much, so it’s not like I really have a frame of reference. Plus, there’s a bunch of other stuff in between, so I want you to be clear with me, so I don’t say something that’s going to offend and hurt you when that’s the last thing I want to do, okay? So you have to lay it out. Give it to me straight, yeah?”

  “Oh, that’s nice. That’s so nice, Amber. Very sweet.”

  I nod at Max absentmindedly, my gaze pinned on Vick, who still hasn’t said anything.

  “He’s a guy, and it took me a very long time to figure out he was flirting with me, like I’m talking about a whole entire year, and…and I want you guys to meet him in real life, and it’s going to be a lot, and Max volunteered you for graveyard duty if he turns out to be an asshole. You’re the one who’s going to be on stakeouts making sure I eat and whatever if all of this doesn’t work out.”

  “Do we know who this guy is?”

  Vick holds up a hand to stop that particular topic of conversation and I shut up. “I just said this to let you know that I get how you feel, and I don’t have a ten-year history with Brody, and I think I get what you’re feeling. You’re questioning yourself, yeah?” I nod.

  “I bet you’re thinking that you’re boring, that you aren’t interesting enough, that your job basically defines you—that you’ve become one of those people we used to hate back in school that it was all they could talk about. Like, bro, no one’s that passionate about accounting, no one.”

  “Not a single soul!” Max pipes up, holding up a hand and pointing at the ceiling, finally sitting up and sitting next to me, her back against the wall, the both of us looking at Vick.

  “Shut up, you meme child. Shit, we’re getting too old for that.”

  “Says who? I’ll be quoting memes until the day I die.”

  I wince. “Can we not talk about death, yeah? It makes me nervous, like we’re tempting fate.”

  “God, you would die at a seance, and I bet you wouldn’t touch a Ouija board with a ten-foot pole.”

  I turn to look at Max, rearing back so I can basically get her in all of one frame. “Excuse me? Have you seen every horror movie ever? I’m not about to invite a demon into my house to drive me nuts. No thanks.”

  “What if he was a cute demon, though? A cute demon that was enamoured with you and utterly devoted?”

  “Is this some paranormal romance that you’re reading?” I ask.

  “I will neither confirm nor deny. Sorry, Vick, went off on another tangent.”

  Vick sighs, kicking at the carpet with a bright red sock. “When do you not?” She turns to look at me. “Look, I know what it’s like to doubt, to re-think everything, but I like this guy, like him a whole lot, and I know if I want this to go anywhere, if I want a chance to see what life could be like to be with him on the daily, I have to be brave, braver than I’ve ever been. So you have to be brave, Amber. You have to take a chance and try it out with Brody, all over again.”