Page 47 of Stocking Stuffers
An easy exit, with a clear path to a gas station, came into view, so she pulled over and called her sister.
“Rosie, I think I fucked up,” she said once the call connected. Her voice was strained, and she hiccupped a sob at the end.
Without missing a beat, her strong, take-charge older sister said, “Emergency brunch. How soon can you get to Jolly’s Café? They don’t close for anything, and we got less snow on this side of the city.”
Jolly’s Café was a breakfast and brunch place that was within a mile of all their apartments, because she and her two siblings were obviously co-dependent and lived in each other’s pockets. Her brother and sister could walk there.
“It’ll be at least an hour and forty-five minutes if I don’t go home to change first. Longer if I do.”
“Brunch first. Then clean clothes.”
“I’m kind of last-night’s-mistress this morning.” She hadn’t even showered off the extraordinary sex and only had a velvet holiday dress to wear.
“Is this walk-of-shame the reason you think you fucked up?”
“Yep.”
Rosie paused for a second, probably shocked by that. Any show of emotion from Sasha over a partner was unusual.
“Then I’d say mimosas are more important than clean undies.”
Sasha wasn’t wearing undies, but otherwise, she tended to agree.
* * *
Sasha fell unceremoniouslyinto the seat across from Rosie and Benji. They’d beaten her to Jolly’s Café—the roads had been extra slow-going for most of the drive—and claimed their normal booth. Her siblings both sat up straighter, their eyes wide, when she settled in. She took her coat off.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” Benji asked. “It’s fab, don’t get me wrong. Very Naughty Mrs. Claus, which I love, but wow.”
“Shut up.”
“And that beard burn.Damn!”
“What happened at this bed and breakfast?” Rosie said before Benji could lend more color commentary to the situation. “You’d told me it’d be a boring day of Christmas movies and baked goods.”
“And that’s what it was.” The waitress came by, verified Sasha’s ID, then deposited their requisite carafe of mimosas. Once she was gone, Sasha said, “Then I fucked up.”
“How?” Rosie asked.
“The Lady Robin’s party was hosted by Valerie, the owner of the inn. Her brother, Perry, showed up a day earlier than she expected to try to beat the storm. And he was wonderful.” She stopped there, not sure how to explain the hole in her chest or how it pained her to breathe.
She’d told Perry there couldn’t ever be anything meaningful between them, just like she’d told countless other people in the last year. Why did it hurt so badly this morning?
“And?” Benji asked. “You murdered him? What do you mean you fucked up?”
“She fell for him,” Rosie said, a small smile curling the edges of her mouth. Sasha and Rosie looked a lot alike, but Rosie was contained and reserved, whereas Sasha was loud and brash and wild. Right now, Rosie seemed way too proud of herself.
“I don’t want a boyfriend,” Sasha said stubbornly. “Or a girlfriend. Or a significant other. I want nothing to do with that bullshit.”
Benji’s big green eyes widened, and he gaped at her. “Holy shit. You fell for some rando at a sex-toy party? You truly are living the best life, sis.”
“I didn’t fall for some rando.”
The waitress came back to take their orders and they each requested the sourdough pancakes, as was emergency brunch tradition, but Benji added the spruce-tip-birch syrup because he was feeling “Christmassy.”
Once they were alone again, Rosie reached across the sticky table and grabbed her hand. “P.J. hurt you.” Sasha tensed at the mention of her ex, but the ever-solid Rosie didn’t pause. “And I understand your reasons for not wanting to settle down right now.”
“If by ‘not wanting to settle down’ you mean she’s a free woman with all the sexual agency in the world, then yes,” Benji added diplomatically, and Sasha laughed.
