Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
“I’ll be there soon. What’s going on anyway?” I lower my voice with the question. The event doesn’t start until tonight. She shouldn’t be looking for me.
She’s quiet for a long time, and I can imagine her pacing up and down one of the hospital’s long corridors in the wing of the hospital that my family has financed.
Yes, we’re those Jollys. The Jolly Family that also happens to run a media and entertainment company by the same name. The bulk of our revenue comes from the holiday movie extravaganza that we host every year. Dozens of new movies all release within a few weeks in the hopes that we can remind families what the holidays are really about. Gag me.
She’s quiet but around her, I can hear the hustle and bustle of people setting things up for the charity event. It’s going to be the highlight of the city for at least a month, and my mom won’t have it any other way.
But Joy is quiet for so long that my holiday senses start tingling. This cannot be anything good.
“What is it?” I finally demand, picturing her biting down on her red lip. She only does that when she has something she doesn’t want to tell me or when she’s thinking of her boss. He’s some mountain man that she won’t tell me the name of because she signed an NDA when she went to work.
“Bobby is going to be here tonight,” she admits in a small tone.
He’s my ex-boyfriend, but when I say I don’t care, I really mean it. Bobby wasn’t a bad boyfriend, but there was no spark or chemistry between us. The only reason we dated was because my mom and his mom were in love with the idea. We broke up two weeks ago. It was my day, but Bobby seemed relieved when I called it quits.
“I figured he would be. Why does that matter?” I ask. Even if Bobby brought a date, I wouldn’t be jealous. We only make sense as a couple in the holiday movies we star in together.
“Look, I’m not supposed to tell you this,” she says, and her voice gets quieter, the sounds behind her muffled now. “He’s going to propose.”
I gasp, the idea both repulsive and unbelievable. “He isn’t!”
“Well, mom is all for it,” she says.
“And she’s OK with me just being ambushed in public?” I ask and instantly wonder why I even brought it up. Of course, she is. She would love nothing more than for her oldest daughter to get engaged in front of half of North Carolina’s most elite.
Hmm, I wonder if it’s too late to stage a big scene. Two years ago, there was a bit of an uproar because the much older, silver fox who played Santa Claus went outside for a breath of fresh air and kidnapped one of the elves.
He threw the curvy girl onto the back of his bike and took off into the night. Is it crazy that I want that kind of passion when I meet someone?
“I thought you should know,” she says quietly. I don’t miss the sadness in her voice.
I can’t figure out which one of us she’s sadder for. Me who’s about to be proposed to in front of everyone or herself whose boss doesn’t seem to acknowledge that she exists despite the fact that she’s wildly in love with him. Ugh, why are guys like this?
“Thanks for the heads up,” I manage even though the too-tiny-for-my-curvy-frame elf costume suddenly feels much tighter. How can this be happening to me? Am I too young to have a heart attack? Would having a heart attack get me out of this? Or would my mother slip the ring on my finger even as the surgeon performed a triple bypass?
“Are you still coming? I can tell everyone you’re sick.”
It’s an appealing option. But I’m not leaving Joy to fight my battles. It’s always been the two of us together ever since we were kids. “I’ll be there.”
We say our goodbyes, and I sigh heavily. By the end of the night, I might just be an engaged woman if I don’t figure something out. Sure, I could tell him no. But news of my public rejection will make the rounds in a matter of minutes thanks to social networks.
Next, there will be interview requests from the media, countless videos from fans analyzing the “tell-tale signs” in our movies, and of course, the worst thing of all–a devaluation of company stock.
The dash for the car dings, interrupting my spiral. I’m not sure what that little symbol is. It’s definitely not gas since this is an electric car, a rental because my own convertible is in the shop.
“You should still be good for a while,” I say out loud. The guy at the rental place insisted the tiny vehicle was fully charged and capable of going for three hundred miles, far less than I actually needed.