Page 35 of Holidate Scramble
"Well, well." Her voice dripped with false sweetness. "If it isn't Rhett's little holiday helper."
I straightened, determined not to be intimidated. “I didn't know you'd be attending tonight."
"I wouldn't miss it." She moved to the mirror beside me, freshening her lipstick in a manner that seemed more performance than necessity. The sharp scent of her expensive perfume mingled with the bathroom's floral air freshener, creating a combination that made my nose itch.
"Rhett and I always attended these events together. Tradition, you know."
I focused on washing my hands, unwilling to engage with her obvious baiting. "The gala's lovely. The hospital will be thrilled with the fundraising total."
"Yes, charity work. So fulfilling for those without real careers." She turned to face me directly. "You know this thing with my husband is temporary, right? A holiday diversion, nothing more."
Her words landed like ice water down my spine. My fingers curled around the edge of the marble counter as I maintained my expression. "You mean your ex-husband. And I think that's between Rhett and me."
"Oh, sweetie." She laughed, the sound like glass breaking on tile. "Do you imagine he's serious about you? A planner from a coastal backwater barely older than his daughter?"
"I should get back—"
She shifted, blocking my path to the door. "He's been offered the chief of cardiothoracic surgery position at Boston Memorial, in case you weren’t aware. Everything he's worked for his entire career. He'll be accepting it after the holidays."
The certainty in her voice made my stomach clench into a tight knot. "If that's true, I'm happy for him."
"It comes with a reconciliation package." She examined her manicure. "We've been discussing getting back together. For the sake of our family, our social standing. He told me this morning he's been thinking about it seriously."
"I don't believe you." My voice sounded hollow even to my own ears.
"No?" Her smile was almost pitying. "Why else do you think I'm here? We're meeting with the board chairman tomorrow to discuss terms." She leaned closer, her pendant earrings catching the harsh bathroom light. "Rhett's having his little midlife adventure with you. It's cute, really, this attempt to maintain his youth. But when the magic fades, he'll return to where he belongs—in Boston, with me, living the life he's built over decades."
I wanted to dismiss her words, but doubt crept in like fog rolling off the harbor. Hadn't I wondered myself if this was too good to be true? If someone like Rhett could really be satisfied with someone like me, with a life in a seaside village after the excitement of the city?
"You're lying," I said, but my voice wavered traitorously.
"Am I? Ask him about the Boston offer. Watch his face." She adjusted her diamond bracelet, the stones glinting like tiny daggers. "He hasn't told you, has he? Because he knows this—" she gestured vaguely at me, "—isn't going anywhere. You're nothing, dear. The Christmas equivalent of a summer romance. Fun while it lasts, but ultimately forgettable."
The door opened as another guest entered. Adrienne smiled sweetly and departed with a final whispered comment: "If you care about him, you'll step aside. Don't be the selfish little girl who kept him from his real family and the career he deserves."
My fingers turned white against the counter as I fought for composure. It couldn't be true—could it? Yet some of what she said rang true. Rhett hadn't mentioned a Boston offer, though he'd spoken vaguely about decisions pending. And reconciliation wasn't uncommon after divorce, especially with children in the picture.
By the time I returned to the ballroom, I'd plastered on a smile that felt like a crack in thin ice. Rhett immediately tensed, concern etching across his features as I approached.
"Are you alright?" he asked, taking my hand. "You're pale."
"Just a headache," I lied. "Maybe the champagne."
He didn't look convinced but didn't press the issue. As the evening continued, I felt myself going through the motions—picking at the lavish courses placed in front of us at the catered dinner, laughing at appropriate moments, making small talk. But inside, I was crumbling, Adrienne's words echoing with each heartbeat.
If you care about him, you'll step aside.
Did I care about him? The answer came immediately. Yes. More than I'd realized, more than I'd allowed myself to admit. Enough to want what was best for him, even if that meant losing him.
When we stepped outside for air on the hotel's terrace as waiters began clearing tables, I knew I couldn't maintain the pretense any longer.
"You've been offered a position in Boston," I said quietly.
Rhett's shoulders went rigid. "How did you—"
"Adrienne told me. Chief of cardiothoracic surgery."
He turned to face me. "Piper, it's not what you think."
