Chapterish 41

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BENEFIT LIGHT FESTIVAL

8:01 AM

I smell the bacon before I open my eyes. Smell the coffee too. Or I am phantom-smelling it at least. My arm stretches out across an empty bed. Brooks is already gone. Not sure what I expected. Him to stay? Risk the chance of my parents finding him in my room this morning?

I am twenty-six. Still, old rules die hard.

And I have exactly nine hours until Brooks picks me up for the Benefit tonight. Nine glorious and primping-filled hours. I roll over on my pillow and mentally review my list of appointments for the day. Manicure and pedicure. check, check. Facial. Check. Blow out. Check. Then only thing left is tweezing the stray peach fuzz growing along my bikini line. Persistent lil fuckers.

As I brush my teeth I think of Brooks. He came to my room. As I wash my face I think of Brooks. He just wanted to hold me all night. As I change into my yoga pants and hoodie I think of Brooks. Brooks is a lot more broken than he lets on. As I glance at my bun in the mirror I think of Brooks. My room!

Double take. As I glance in the mirror I thank the lord I decided to squeeze in the blow out this afternoon. I couldn't even begin to deal with my own hair right now.

"Hi honey," my mom says as I enter the kitchen.

"Bacon?" My dad asks, holding out the plate.

"Coffee." I bypass the V tempting spread of breakfast meats. Bacon, sausage and scrapple.

"Oh right, new diet." My dad rolls his eyes.

"It's not new. You just keep offering me animal by-products hoping I'll change my mind or forget."

He laughs at me. "At least you'll never forget coffee."

"Mhmm." I bring the cup to my lips. "Who could forget coffee?"

"Honey, don't forget we have to be at the B&B all day today. You have to stop by the farm for the wreaths. They need to be fresh. Drop off at the church is 1:00 PM," my mom says, looking at me.

"Of course they need to be fresh. Who wants stale wreaths?" My dad mocks.

"Wreaths. 1 PM. Got it," I recite, adding it to my mental checklist –sometime after the mani-pedi and right before the blow out.

"Marge mentioned Brooks is picking you up tonight?" My mother asks. At least it sounds like she's asking. But fishing is more like it.

"He offered to..." I trail off.

My stomach knots. I'm not sure if it's because of my mother's polite accusatory tone, her judgmental smile, or the thought, nay confirmation, that Brooks actually told his mother he's picking me up!

Holy shit.

"Well, I think it's great, Kathy." My dad chimes in on my behalf. "Car pooling saves the environment. Don't they teach you that in veganism or yoga or whatever thing you're always raving about?" He waves the strip of bacon between his fingers.

"Different cause dad, but way to be environmentally conscious." I walk back to the stairs.

My parents leave the house by 9 AM, already dressed in their evening garb. My mother rushing out the door in her perfectly cropped black dress and shiny patent pumps, my dad in a black suit and matching shoes, carrying a box of snow-covered miniature pine tree centerpiece things. DIY threw up on them.

It's going to be a long ass day for them.

I leave just after them, pulling my down coat around me as I brace for the frigid wintry mix of rain and snow. I hop into my Dad's truck and set out.  My mani-pedi is set for 9:30 and I stroll inside the familiar spa just on time.

I pick a deep nude color to match my nails and toes, settle down into the cushioned pedicure massage chair and sink into a pseudo-relaxed stupor. My brain goes to Brooks. It's over before I open my eyes. I move to the chair for my gel mani.

After my nails are trimmed and painted and perfectly almond shaped, I am ushered to the backroom to wait for my facial. I steal a granola square and cucumber water from the complimentary refreshment bar. I take the brief chance to check social media, because millennial.

Another holiday engagement, what an unexpected turn of events. I scroll past the cute *clearly staged* photo of a barn outlined with white lights and holly wreaths (stale if you ask me). The girl with unnaturally blonde hair (I can't talk) and that perfect December tan. Dressed to a T with jeans and draping sweater and black boots. Bitch has the audacity to look shocked at the question. You're not fooling anyone. You dressed to get proposed to today. I can't.

Everything about the photo and the caption makes my skin crawl. Still, I can't help but linger a little too longingly over the photo and the surface-level love that it so clearly promotes.

Do I want this? Did I ever want this? Why does Brooks's silky voice and charming smile and unbelievable thirst for life come to mind when I see that beautiful sparkling diamond ring? Damn if it wouldn't look great on my finger. I could post an enviable barn snapshot with white lights, an over-sized sweater and the hot guy who just put a ring on it. I could post the shit out of it.

No.

Stop.

Focus.

"Emmy?" A woman enters the room, holding a clipboard "A detox facial?"

"Yup!" I stick my phone in my bag and hop off the padded chaise lounge. Happy to put sappy emotional thoughts out of my mind.

To no avail.

I spend the entire next thirty minutes thinking about that damn proposal pic. Thinking about the barn and the snow –the whole staged setting, the RING to blind 1,000 suns. The perfect words falling from Brooks's perfect lips and the look on his face when I say yes.

JESUS.

Would I say yes? I remind myself it doesn't matter what answer I'd give to this hypothetical question because it's never going to be asked. We've both made that clear. But then Corbel Finn comes to mind. I think of our conversation and the one we had afterwards at his hotel. He had wanted me to himself. Made me promise to it. So who cares if I daydream about our nonexistent engagement?

He broke the rules first.

11:42 when I leave.

I glance at my phone to see four texts patiently waiting my attention.

WREATHS.

Don't forget the wreaths xo

Emmy? The Wreaths!

CHECK THE SELL-BY DATE

A smile cracks my lips at my last text from Dad.

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