“We’re going to need a lot of wine for this,” I say, flopping down onto my couch.

  Vick heads to the fridge without further prompting and pulls out the sweetest rosé I’ve got in there and carts it into the living room.

  Amber’s the one that orders the food for supper, and then there’s nothing else to do but tell them the truth and nothing but the truth.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, my entire body burning with shame and embarrassment.

  “I did something really stupid. Really fucking stupid.” I peek at the two of them, and I don’t find murderous rage or condemnation on their faces. So far, so good.

  “And it has something to do with that ring?” Vick says, jutting her chin out towards my left hand.

  I wipe off the butter with the dish towel and show off said hand.

  “Shit, that’s pretty swollen. You need ice,” Amber says, moving to get off the couch. I grab her arm to keep her in her spot.

  “I’ll get it in a second. Let me just tell you what I need to.” I pull in deep breaths, the invisible weight on my chest not making it easy. Tears of frustration start to well in my eyes. “I kinda…sorta…got married.”

  “WHAT?” Vick yells, springing to her feet, looking about ready to fight an invisible opponent. She’s wearing her usual thermal and joggers, and her shoulders look like boulders. Maybe I should sic her on Logan.

  “Vick, sit down,” Amber snaps, and my other cousin plops onto the couch, her head in her hands. “You,” Amber jabs a finger at me. “What happened? Were you coerced? The last I knew about anything is that you went out last night, trying to find a date for Christmas.” Amber’s mouth thins, and I roll my eyes.

  “I know, I know, you don’t approve. But honestly, the two of you are living your best lives with super supportive boyfriends, and I’m stuck here, overworked, overtired, and extremely lonely. I took matters into my own hands. I went trolling for a hot date for Christmas last night, but it didn’t go so well.”

  “I’ll say,” Vick snickers, reaching for my left hand. “It’s a pretty ring, though, Max.”

  “I’d rather cut my finger off than keep it on another second,” I sigh dramatically.

  Amber and Vick laugh, which was the whole point.

  “So, who’s your husband?” Amber asks.

  That hot well of shame yawns ever wider in my chest when Amber uses that word.

  “Please don’t call him that,” I whine. “His name’s Logan. And I’m getting this shit annulled as soon as possible. It’ll all be like a bad dream. Over before you know it.” I nod to myself, trying to convince everyone in the room that I have my shit together.

  My left hand is throbbing with all the tugging and prying I’ve done on it, I’m hungry and irritated, and a little heartsick that I stooped so low into getting married to a virtual stranger.

  Must have been one hell of a conversation, Max, to consider marrying a guy like Logan.

  If only I could remember what I was thinking, what I felt, but last night is basically a blank slate. The last thing I remember is being all morose and shit, sitting at the bar by myself and buying myself drink after drink.

  “Logan, Logan? That guy you were into, and then you Maxed out?” Vick gapes at me. “Didn’t you go out with him a few weeks ago as part of this whole ‘get a Christmas date’ thing? I thought he was off your contender list.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t understand either, trust me.”

  Amber doesn’t say anything and that makes me nervous.

  “He even hates Christmas. I can’t be with someone who hates Christmas. I mean, look at this place.” My cousins take a glance around my home.

  I’ve got a Christmas tree in almost every single room (even the bathrooms). I have a wreath outside my door and on the inside. I have Christmas-themed dinnerware and glassware. I have about four hundred ugly Christmas sweaters, and a mug collection specific for the holiday season that could easily have everyone in the building having a cup of coffee.

  I live for Christmas every single year. It’s the best.

  “Don’t tell that was the first question you asked him on your date, Max.”

  I nod. “Obviously not. Or else I would have cut it short and got home and maybe slept the allotted seven hours I’m supposed to. Instead, I listened to him ramble on and on about his life, and why he’s so great, ugh. The second and third dates weren’t any better. He’s the worst. His looks are so misleading. He looks like a quick wham-and-bam and instead I got a cuddly boyfriend ready to sleep in with me on the weekend and bring me breakfast in bed.”

  Vick gets to her feet again and starts pacing my living room.

  “What happened next?”

  I shrug, not wanting to get into it. “We came back here last night, uh, this morning. He assures me that I barricaded myself in my bedroom, and yeah, my door was locked from the inside this morning,” I sigh, rubbing at my forehead. I frown when I get a whiff of the butter that’s made my skin too shiny, and hastily wipe at the grease on my forehead.

  “We came back here, and I woke up to find him in that shower this morning.” I point, and both Vick and Amber look toward the open bathroom, as if Logan’s hiding there, ready to give them the jump-scare of their lives.

  “Why did he go along with it, if you guys didn’t hit it off a couple of weeks ago?”

  “Hell if I know. I remember nothing about last night. But I heard a voicemail of me, speaking to myself.” At their blank looks, I continue. “I basically told myself that I chose this being of sound mind and body, and all that. I guess we were drinking after we…we got…I can’t even say it. Honestly, it’s not like I’m already on my parents’ shit list. What else is new?”

  “You’re not on their shit list, Max,” Amber says, slapping at my thigh hard enough for it to sting. “And I’m sorry that they compare you to Izzy all of the time.”

  “She’s the baby, I get it, kind of. Maybe. Do you know what she told me the other day? She told me that my father, the man who gave me shit for moving out on my own for choosing a non-conventional job, for not falling in line – he’s offered to put the down payment on a condo for her. Can you believe it?”

  The sharp pain feels fresh again as if I just heard the news from my little sister.

  “I’m sorry,” Amber says, Vick tacking on a ‘me, too’.

  I shrug again, sniff hard to chase away the unshed tears. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not anymore. I’m tired of not living up to expectations that keep moving around, you know? Whatever I do, it’s not good enough. And this year, I didn’t want to feel like shit at Christmas, I didn’t want to field comments or backhanded compliments that sting and pinch instead of enjoying my food and the company about my lack of a love life. Now, I’ve royally fucked up.” I hold my left hand up, glare at the ring that refuses to budge.

  Vick heads to the bathroom and returns to the couch with a wad of toilet paper in her hands. She mops up my face when the tears spill over and then gives me some tough love by flicking me on the forehead.

  I groan, rub at the throbbing skin.

  Amber rolls her eyes at the pair of us and rearranges herself so she can start pouring the wine. Sushi should be coming soon, too. Everyone knows that sushi makes everything better, at least for a little while.

  “How about you don’t tell anyone else that you’re married? I mean, you take off that ring, and no one would know,” Amber says after handing me a glass.

  I drink it down, and hum at the sweetness. Vick hands me the wad of toilet paper and resumes her seat on my other side. I’m stuck in a Prewitt cousin sandwich, and it feels pretty good now that I know they don’t hate me for doing what I did.

  “You guys are taking all of this much better than I did,” I say on a sniff.

  Vick rubs my back. “You made a mistake. So you got married, big deal. There’s nothing that can’t be fixed, right? This isn’t life-ending, Max.”

  I nod slowly, staring down into the depths of my wine glass. I trace over the frosted glass with snowflakes imprinted all over it, knowing that I shouldn’t be taking time off from work right now, but needing it all the same.

  “You guys ever feel like you’re stuck? Like no matter what you do, you can’t move forward?” I mumble.

  “Oh, all the time,” Amber laughs. “Always. It never stops.”

  I stare at her, blink a few times to make sure she’s real. “Yeah?”

  “Me, too,” Vick says. “I think that’s supposed to happen every once in a while. You have to stop and figure out where you want to go next. That’s all this is. A pit stop.”

  I glare up at the ceiling, feel the tears fall down my cheeks and temples. “And I had to get married!” I cry, covering my eyes with my hand. “I had to get married to a sweet guy that will have to see all that shit on Christmas.” I shudder, trying to control the deluge of tears that clearly doesn’t want to be stopped. “And I’m going to look like such an idiot in front of everyone at our dinner.”

  “Seriously, though, this isn’t a problem. We get the ring off you, and no one has to know. I’m not going to tell anybody,” Amber says, holding up her right hand. I slide my gaze over to Vick.

  “Hey, you know I won’t tell anybody, either. Unless it’s under duress. The biggest problem we have here is that you can’t keep a secret for anything.”

  “Don’t you think I know that? It’s like two weeks until Christmas and everything is getting ruined because I had to go and get married.”

  “Max…is there anything else that’s bothering you?” Amber asks gently, and more tears fall because she’s being so nice to me.

  I shake my head, hiccup. “I’m just tired. Really tired. I’ve been working sixteen-hour days for the past three years, trying to grow my channel. My brain’s tired. I hate how I’m always trying to think of the next possibly viral video idea, or how best to showcase the makeup that I already have instead of buying more. I’m always thinking about it, always. I’m tired, guys, just tired.”

  “Okay, you cry it out,” Vick says, rubbing my back in soothing circles. It reminds me of when I was little and used to get the flu practically every six months, and my mom liked me better then. “We’re going to be here for you. We’re both here.”

  I sniff, mop up my face with ineffectual sodden toilet paper. “I’m really hungry, too.”

  Amber laughs and runs a hand down my hair. “So that’s the real reason you’re so upset, huh?”

  I scoff, shaking my head.

  “You’ll fix this. All you need is a quick annulment, and that’s it. Forget about it.”

  “I don’t even know what I was thinking, though. Me? Get married? I don’t even really believe in marriage. Have you seen my parents? They’re miserable.”

  “Not everyone married is miserable, though,” Vick says, her voice small.

  I turn to stare at her. I was too busy throwing my pity party that I didn’t notice Vick’s ring on her own very important finger. It’s not sparkly, but that’s not Vick’s vibe, either.

  “Are you engaged and you didn’t tell me!?” I screech, a waterfall of tears falling down my face.

  I try to ignore the twist of sharp jealousy that slices through my insides, or the heat of shame and embarrassment that comes as a chaser right after. I try to ignore the way Vick looks so incredibly happy when I’m not.

  I force all of it down and think of my cousin.

  “You and Michael? Yeah?”

  “No, Max, I’m getting married to my other next-door neighbor. Obviously, it’s Michael. Jesus. I was lucky he made the first move, or I’d still be single.”

  I laugh because it’s true. This time last year, Vick was in bad shape in all areas of her life. Kind of like where I currently find myself.

  Who knows who I’ll be one year from now?

  I hug her tight enough around the ribs that she lets out a nervous laugh, and then it’s Amber’s turn to take my place. We talk about Vick’s impending nuptials for the upcoming late summer, but my cousin doesn’t want to talk details yet.

  The sushi we ordered between the congratulations finally arrives, and we stuff ourselves full of too many of them to count. Amber pulls up Pacific Rim so we can all drool over Idris Elba and Charlie Hunnam.

  Amid the violence and the chaos, Amber murmurs, “What does Logan think of all of this?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I kind of kicked him out as soon as I could this morning – earlier today after I woke up. I didn’t want him here.”

  “Does he seem open to an annulment?”

  “Like I’m going to give him a choice. I don’t want to be married. And if I wanted to, it’s not going to be without a giant party. No way. And especially not to someone like Logan.”

  Amber nods like she knows something I don’t. Vick shushes us as if she hasn’t seen this movie a hundred times and doesn’t know what happens next.

  I lean further back into the couch, bringing my knees up to my chest, appetite ruined. “You think that’ll be a problem, getting an annulment?”

  “I don’t know. I know not one thing about annulments.” She squints into the distance. “I don’t know if that’s a word. Maybe not. Look, don’t beat yourself too much about this, okay? You made a mistake. You didn’t ruin someone’s life.”

  “I mean, I ruined my life, but okay, then.”

  Amber shakes her head, gives me a sharp smile. “We all know that you’re even more rigid than me. You have to-do lists and schedules for almost every second of your life. You didn’t allow for this kind of detour, but that’s all it is. A detour. You’ll still get to where you need to go.”

  “Excuse me, now is not the time to be needling me about my exceptional time management skills.”

  Amber rolls her eyes, and Vick shushes us again. We both ignore her. “I’m not saying don’t do what you want. I’ll never do that.”

  I hold my breath, then exhale in a quick rush. “But what?” My heart hammers against my ribs. I’m waiting for the worst.

  “I’m just saying this is a pretty cool story, even if it doesn’t work out.”

  “God, you’re such a romantic.”

  Amber laughs and swats at my shoulder with a sharp slap. “Yeah, whatever, Max. Feeling a bit better?”

  I nod, then twist my head from side to side, not too sure. “I feel like I really screwed up. I’ve been trying to meet Mom and Dad’s expectations for so long that I feel all gross inside just thinking about telling them about this.”

  “And we said you don’t have to do that. No one has to know.”

  I snort. “Yeah, right. I better become really good at lying in the next three weeks before I blurt everything out in the middle of dinner.”

  Vick pauses the video, the sound cutting off. “All right, since none of you want to enjoy the excellence that this movie provides, I’m coming in for a giant hug. Ready or not!”

  Vick dives between us, slinging an arm around each of our shoulders.

  After nearly swallowing one of her kneecaps or getting a concussion from one of her swaying elbows, we settle on my couch, watching a hilarious still that throws us into peals of laughter.

  I’m finally feeling better, and the people I love the most don’t think the worst of me for making this kind of mistake.

  I mean, I had a plan, I had a schedule. I date when I can, and every other waking moment is spent on thinking about my work, how to grow and expand my business.

  I’m not ready for marriage, not at all, even if someone stupendous were to come along.

  At the end of the night, when I’m left alone in my empty apartment, I pick up my phone.

  I pull up my messages, thumbs flying across the screen, trying to type it out instead of thinking about what I’m writing.

  I grunt when a notification comes in from the person I was already going to text.

  I shiver on my couch and open Logan’s message.

  Logan: I’m sorry about this morning, and that it was such a shock to you. Can we talk?

  Me: Not tonight. I’m tired. Are you free tomorrow evening, after work? We can meet up at my place. I don’t want to have this conversation out in public.

  Plus, I’ll be on home turf, and I know where the weapons are.

  Logan: Yeah, sure. I’ll see you then, wife.

  I lock my phone quickly and launch it onto the farthest point on my sectional, bellowing like I’m about to go into battle.

  Clearly, I’m married to an asshole.

  I can’t wait to get rid of him.

  FOUR

  I don’t expect Logan to bring me flowers, a huge bouquet that’s pretty much covered in snow.

  I’ve been working and haven’t broken the surface from my insane seven hours of productivity today to look outside and see what’s happening. There could be an explosion out on St.-Jacques Street, and I wouldn’t even know. Hell, the fire alarm in the building could go off, and I’d be deep in editing mode and hardly hear it.

  Still, though, it’s a surprise to see how much snow has come down already.

  “Thank you,” I grunt, afraid of the part in my chest that seems to warm through at the gesture. I’ve never received flowers before, not once. And to get them from Logan?

  It’s a trap, it has to be.

  “Don’t look so happy about it,” Logan says, but he’s grinning at me, inviting me in on a joke that I’m not sure I want to hear.

  I keep my eye-roll to myself, and head to the kitchen, looking for something to put the flowers in.

  “Food should be here soon,” I mumble in my crouch, searching the bottom cabinets for a wayward pitcher that has snowmen around the bottom. I pull out my prize and startle when Logan’s suddenly sitting across from me, the whole expanse of the kitchen island keeping us apart.

  I want to keep it that way.

  The silence stretches, and as it stretches, my shoulders start to hike up towards my ears. I don’t know what to say, I don’t know what not to say. I mean, when we had those three dates, Logan was the one filling in most of the conversation. I was the one listening.

  I have two things I love to gush about and that’s makeup and my YouTube channel, and the inner workings of my business. I love to watch movies with my cousins and read romance novels. On the surface, I don’t really have that much going for me.