Hours later, the decorations are up, but the living room is a mess. I put away the storage box and get out the vacuum and figure while I have it out, I should vacuum the couch because Michael is always eating on it. I yank off the cushions and something catches my eye. I turn off the vacuum and pick it up. It’s a gold bracelet with green gems. I stare at it for quite a long time, as if it’s suddenly going to sprout lips and tell me who the fuck it belongs to. It’s definitely not mine. I don’t wear yellow gold. Ever. Not since the eighties. I inspect it closer and realize the clasp is broken.

A sick feeling creeps over me. Something between fear and anger. My stomach is in knots. My mind starts to race like a hamster in a wheel. Who has visited here? Storm? It’s definitely not his. Amy? She would never wear something this gaudy. It certainly didn’t fall out of the cat’s ass.

Maybe it was there when we bought the couch. A salesperson or delivery person could have lost it.

I vacuum the couch a lot, though. At least every other month. I don’t see how I could have missed this before. It was right there when I pulled the cushion off in plain sight.

I hold it up and take a picture of it with my cell phone and text it to Michael with the words: WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?

I hurl it onto the end table and put the couch back together again, but not before checking it for more evidence. I find nothing. I lie on the floor and peer under the couch. I see a little something in the back and pull it out. A smile breaks through my anger. It’s the toy Storm bought Halo when I was sick, the one that blinks a red light when it’s smacked by a paw. He must have bopped it under the couch. I gently lay it next to Halo, who has been sleeping through my excursion of decor and cleaning.

My phone beeps.

Michael: A bracelet?

Me: I know that. But whose??

Michael: I have no idea. What’s wrong with you?

Me: I found this in our couch

Michael: So?

Me: Well, it’s not mine! So whose is it?

Michael: I have no fucking idea. I don’t have time for this.

Oh, hell no. I quickly dial his cell number and on the fourth ring, he answers, but his voice is rather hushed.

“Evelyn, what the fuck is your deal? I’m in a fucking meeting here, and you’re sending me pictures of jewelry?”

“I want to know who this thing belongs to, Michael!”

“I told you I don’t know! It’s not mine.”

“Well, no shit! Who have you had here in the house? I clean this couch all the fucking time and this piece of crap bracelet wasn’t there!”

Sometimes, you can actually hear someone thinking. Now is one of those times. I can literally hear his mind thinking.

“Well?”

“Okay, now I remember. Jim was by with his girlfriend. It must be hers.”

Jim is a guy he works with and plays golf with. “When the hell was Jim and his girlfriend here?”

“A few weekends ago. During the blizzard, actually. It must be hers.”

He had friends over while I was trapped in a pick-up truck, almost freezing to death. And dry humping a very sexy rock star...

“You need to calm the fuck down, Ev. I’m working. Put the bracelet somewhere, and I’ll tell Jim we have it. I gotta go.”

Click.

Well, damn.

I feel slightly embarrassed for freaking out. But as I sit here and stare at the bracelet, a feeling of unease is still hanging over me. For the first time since I met him, I’m not sure Michael is telling the truth.

When I’m stressed, I need to do something to keep my mind busy. Many a therapist has told me to channel the energy into something positive. Like aerobics. Taking a walk. Cooking. Cleaning. Sometimes, I take out the Wii and just kill things for a few hours. But today, I do something entirely different with my stress energy. Something unlike me—spiteful sluttery.

I call Storm.

“Hey, I thought you were going to call me yesterday?” I love how he doesn’t say hello. He just starts talking.

“I know, but I got busy. I had to go shopping.”

“Really? Did you go Christmas shopping for me?” His voice is teasing, sexy, and flirty. It floats through the phone and infects me like a virus. Its fever spreads over me, making me warm, making my heart beat faster, and lulling my brain.

“No, I would have no idea what to get you.”

“Just put a bow on your ass, sweetheart, and it’ll be better than any present Santa ever gave me.” My insides go gushy and my pussy twitches at his words.

He continues, “I do have a present for you, which is why I was trying to get in touch with you. When can I see you?”

Now. Tomorrow. Every next day. All the forevers.

“Um, I don’t know.”

“What are you doing tomorrow morning? I’ll be on my way to Grams for Christmas Eve dinner. I can stop by on my way.”

“Um, I’ll be here. You can stop by anytime. But you really don’t need to give me a gift.”

“I already got it. I want to give it to you. Will Michael be there? Maybe I should bring him a bottle of wine or something.” I can’t tell if he’s being sincere or sarcastic.

“No, he had to go out of town for a few days.”

“You’re fucking kidding, right?”

“I wish I was. He had to go out of town for work.”

“That sucks, Evie. It’s Christmas. What the fuck?”

“I’m already pissed. Trust me.”

“Is that why you called me, because you’re mad at him? And yesterday, when I wanted to talk to you, you weren’t mad yet. Right?”

Damn. He can see right through me. I let out a sigh.

“I wanted to call you... I was just trying to do the right thing by focusing on him.”

“I thought you were going to think about us.” Storm has one of those voices that are so expressive I can actually see what face he’s making when he’s talking, even if I can’t really see him. Right now, I know he’s not smiling, and his eyes got a little bit darker, and he’s probably clenching his teeth a little bit.

“Storm, I do think about you, and us and whatever this is. I can’t not think about it. But I am in a relationship with him.”

I must have super powers because now I can also hear Storm thinking.

“Are you still fucking him?”

“Storm! What the hell? You can’t ask me things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s rude and private, that’s why.”

“I don’t like the thought of him fucking you.”

“Then don’t think about it. And could you stop saying fucking? It’s vile. Who are you fucking, by the way? I saw your picture on a magazine last week with some chick with tits bigger than my head.”

“She’s no one.”

“Right.”

Our silence stares at each other in the virtual air, battling it out, both of us knowing the fight is wrong, the jealousy not allowed. But it’s there, rearing its ugly, green head. A long tense minute goes by.

“Evie, I don’t want to fight. I just want to give you your present.”

“You started it.” Yes, I am five now.

“Okay, I guess I was out of line. I’m not used to feeling jealous. Give me a break over here.”

“Is she your flavor of the week?”

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?” he says it triumphantly as if he’s winning.

“No. If she’s what you’re into, that’s great.”

“I want to get into you.”

No one has ever been able to stop my heart with words. But he does, always. I close my eyes and savor the feeling for a few moments. The feeling of being wanted and desired. It’s new. It’s intoxicating.

“If you’re done swooning over me, let’s get back to me coming to see you. I have a better plan now.”

Swooning? I am not.

“I’m afraid to ask,” I say as I fall back onto the couch.

“Come with me.”

“With you where?”

“To Grams.”

“What? No. I can’t go to your family’s Christmas Eve dinner. I don’t even know them.”

“Yes, you can. You’ll have a great time. They would love to meet you.”

“It’s rude for a stranger to show up at someone’s house for a family holiday dinner, Storm. I couldn’t.”

“You’re not a stranger. You’re my friend. My family isn’t like that. Trust me. Christmas is for friends and family. Say you’ll come. You can’t sit there on Christmas by yourself. That’s total bullshit. Do you have anywhere else to go?”

I glance at the little gingerbread house on my mantle. “No, I don’t.”

“It’s settled then. I’ll pick you up at ten. Everyone will be casual, so you don’t have to dress up or anything. We’ll just be hanging out in the living room by the fire and eating in the dining room. It’s about two hours away. I probably won’t have you back until about nine at night. My Gram likes to give us gifts and stuff, so make sure you give the cat extra food and water. I don’t want you to be worried while we’re gone. I want you to have fun.”

I pick at a stray thread on my sweatpants. Christmas with Storm’s family sounds exciting and a little bit frightening. Sitting here alone sounds worse, though.

“Are you really sure it’s okay?” I ask him again.

“I’m a thousand percent positive. It’s just gonna be my parents, Gram, maybe my brothers and my sister. And Niko.”

I smile at the thought of seeing Niko again. “Only if you’re sure it’s okay. I don’t want to be in the way or make your family uncomfortable. Should I bring anything?”

“Just your ass with a bow on it.”

“Storm...” I warn.

“Okay, okay. We’ll have fun, I promise. I’m glad you’re coming.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to bring Juggsy?” I say playfully. My mood has lifted, and I’m actually looking forward to not spending the day alone tomorrow just being depressed. When I tell Amy, she will be proud of me.