Page 33 of The Twelve-Hour Rule
I nod, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. But deep down, I know that’s a lie. It won’t pass. Not for a while.
Because I know that I’ll be looking for her in the crowds.
CHAPTER 17
SOL
Camila’s brownstonelooks like something out of an Architectural Digest Christmas issue—tall ceilings, warm, twinkling lights, lit candles everywhere. It smells like a forest, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the living room held more than a couple of fir trees by the window.
She and George went all out. Of course they did.
It’s their first holiday season as a married couple, their first real party in the house they bought, and she’s glowing, barefoot in a sequined dress, her hair in loose waves. Every time she passes George, he catches her waist and kisses her like they’re still on their honeymoon.
I’m happy for her. I really am.
But I’m also allowed to feel slightly bitter, I guess. It stings a little.
I hover near the kitchen island, fingers wrapped around a glass of champagne that keeps refilling thanks to a too-attentive waiter. Everyone’s talking—about the economy, new restaurants that are popping up, a group ski trip in February. The laughter ricochets off the high ceilings, all light and effortless.
It’s one of those parties where the attendees seem to know exactly what to do with their hands.
Except me.
I try to join a conversation about travel but zone out halfway through, nodding at the right moments. Someone mentions a beach, and all I can think of is a pool and Ben’s crooked grin.
God. I’m ridiculous.
A voice cuts through my thoughts, warm and slurred. “Refill?”
I turn. It’s one of George’s friends. I met him once before in passing while we were out to dinner and Camila ran into him at the restaurant. He’s grinning, tie loose, clearly tipsy. He holds up the bottle, waiting, and that’s when I notice the Santa hat.
“No, thanks.” I lift my half-full glass.
“Come on, it’s New Year’s Eve,” he insists. The hat slips sideways as he leans closer to me, the white pom-pom moving dramatically in my direction.
And just like that, the air shifts.
I see Ben standing by the pool bar, sunlight hitting his sunburned nose, that same stupid hat on his head. His laugh, easy and unguarded. Something twists deep in my chest.
I mutter something about needing air and slip through the crowd, my heels clicking against the shiny marble floors in the entryway. The front stoop is too visible, so I cut through the dining room and push open the French doors that lead to the back deck.
The low temperature hits me immediately—sharp, clean, alive. I wrap my arms around myself and breathe in the smell of winter: snow, exhaust, and something I can only describe ascold. In the years since I’ve lived here, it’s my first holiday season in the cold, so it feels different already. Not because of Ben or me or my divorce, but simply because it is different.
The skyline glows in the distance, windows twinkling against the dark. It’s still a few hours until midnight, but I can feel the buzz in the air, the anticipation of a new year palpable.
This city used to thrill me. Just the idea of moving out of my small town for university, and then to New York City of all places was my highest achievement, and I’d been giddy with emotion in the running up to my relocation so many years ago. But I guess now it just feels muted. Like I’m finally settled and nothing about living here excites me anymore.
I can’t stop replaying it—the beach, the salt on my lips, the way Ben looked at me like I wasn’t temporary. Like he saw something I’d stopped recognizing in myself.
The door opens behind me, and Camila steps out holding two champagne flutes. She looks impossibly at ease; one of those people who can host and sparkle at the same time.
“I knew you’d be out here.” She hands me a glass. “Did you call your parents?”
“Before coming here,” I reply. “They send their regards.”
She sighs, a small shiver running through her shoulders as she leans against the railing. “God, it’s freezing. I forgot what winter actually feels like.”
I smile faintly. “Everything looks amazing, though. You really outdid yourself.”
