Page 8 of Better Hate than Never

I peer his way and catch him grinning. “What?”

“You’re really scrubbing that pan, Christopher.”

“It’s greasy!”

His grin deepens. “Mm-hmm.”

“Stop saying ‘mm-hmm.’ ”

“Step away from the pan, my friend.” He plucks it out of my grip, rinsing it on his side of the sink. “You’re going to take the finish right off.”

Sighing heavily, I pick up a serving platter too big for the dishwasher and force myself to think only about scrubbing that. But my mind disobeys me, returning once again to dinner.

Seated next to Kate at the table, her long legs bouncing steadily beside mine.

When she reached across me for the bread basket and I breathed in her soft scent—a garden after a long, warm rain.

The moment Maureen asked about my bruised jaw and Kate’s bony knee knocked mine, then stayed there, as if she was stunned that I’d kept my word—instead of telling on her, I said I’d been sparring.

To be fair, itwassparring when I ran into Kate. Sparring is all we do.

From outside, Kate yells, “Three-pointer!” drawing our gaze to the driveway, where she and Bea are playing one-on-one basketball.

“Bullshit!” Bea yells back. “You landed over the line!” A sports car roars down the road, drowning out whatever she says next.

I tell myself to look away as Kate bends over in hysterics, the only hand she has available braced on one knee as she laughs sohard, a wheezing sound leaves her lungs. Bea throws back her head and cackles.

“Work still stressful?” Jamie asks, taking another saucepan from his side of the double sink and towel drying it.

I tear my gaze away and scrub the platter more. “It always is this time of year.”

Jamie stares at me, assessing. “But it’s a little more so than in the past, I imagine.”

“Yes,” I admit. “Nothing I can’t manage, though.”

I’ve been managing it for a month already, when my not-large-to-begin-with investment firm lost two team members in the same day—Jean-Claude, whom I fired, and Juliet, his former fiancée, who was reeling from everything that led to him being fired and to her breaking up with him. She’s been on leave for a month, taking the time she needs, which I’ve firmly supported.

I don’t say any of this out loud, because Jamie’s former friend and roommate, my former employee, Jean-Claude, is a delicate subject. Even though they’re unspoken, Jamie’s thoughts still follow mine.

He stares down at the pan in his hand, somber quiet settling between us.

There’s no getting around the fact that Juliet’s been gone from work for a month and she’s an ocean away from us now because of Jean-Claude’s emotional abuse. His possessive, irrational jealousy of my familial relationship to her led to a fistfight with me during my regular meeting with Jules, whom I retained as a PR consultant.

Jean-Claude’s out of all our lives for good. Now that some time has passed, and Jules is on her self-care getaway, it’s my hope that the echoes of his damage will finally stop lingering.

My hope seems reasonable, given Friendsgiving last night felt upbeat, albeit with a teary group photo that we texted to Jules,saying we missed her. Even tonight the Wilmot family managed a video with Jules post-dinner that put a smile on everyone’s faces. Bea and Kate seem happy outside after talking with her. Maureen and Bill are still content to sit on the front porch with the laptop between them, sipping their coffee as they chat more with Jules.

“It’s been a stressful season,” I tell him. We both know I’m not just talking about work. “But we’ll get through it. I’m confident.”

Jamie nods, a small furrow in his brow. After a beat, he peers up at me, an examining intensity in his gaze. “And after you wrap up this busy year, how do you plan to recharge over the holidays?”

I shrug. “I don’t have the time.”

“Have or won’t take?” he asks pointedly.

“I give my team the week leading up to Christmas through the week after New Year, but I don’t take it myself. Busy year-end or not, I don’t personally have much use for the holidays.”

He frowns my way. “No use for the holidays? What kind of blasphemous nonsense is that?”

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