Hell on Heels(50)

Christmas had been brutal, as it always was for the Smith family, my family.

Four chairs at the dinner table, but only three still held loved ones.

Four hooks on the fireplace, but only three stockings.

There was a lifetime of memories in that beach house, some bad but mostly good, and it took our three hearts together to survive each wave of reminiscing as it hit.

We all missed Henry, but it was my dad who seemed to suffer the most.

He was quiet, chewing down the edge of his glasses while we played cards and told stories. When he laughed, it had an emptiness to it that made my soul ache just a little bit more. I knew his misplaced guilt got heavier as the weather got colder.

Mom and I visited Henry on Christmas Eve, burying two Poinsettias in the snow at the base of his tree. We knew they’d wilt and die quickly with the chill, but we didn’t mind. Back when he loved Christmas, he’d cover every square inch of the house with them.

“It hurts to miss you so much,” I’d told him, my knees in the white.

“I know, Charlie bear.”

His voice had picked up in the wind, and even though Doctor Colby said it wasn’t him, it still felt like him.

“Watch over them for me, will you?” he asked.

I’d pressed my lips to the frost covering the bark and promised him, “Always.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Merry Christmas, Henry,” I whispered.

My tears had become ice in the snow.

“Merry Christmas, Charlie bear.”

The twenty-fifth came and went.

I left my parents with goodbyes and boarded a first-class flight to Mexico on the afternoon of the twenty-sixth.

Work had been obscene. I didn’t think I’d seen so many holiday parties in all the years since I’d started Smith & Co Productions. As a rule, and as a company, we did not plan any events between Christmas and the New Year. Of course there had been exceptions over the year, but typically we did not. It was something I found important, that my staff spend that time with their loved ones. They worked hard and we made good money. Mostly, I knew how precious time was, and I wanted that time for them.

As such, on the twenty-third of each year, our offices closed. Tina and Tom remained in the city, as both their families were local, and they offered to manage the emergency line while I was out of town. Every time they offered, I graciously accepted.

It was the thirty-first, six days into our vacation, and we were at Cancun’s best New Years Eve party on the beach.

Half naked bodies pulsed to the beat of the music, and a man on stage hollered out the five-minute warning to countdown.

“I’ll go get the champagne!” Leighton yelled into my ear, and I nodded. “You stay with him.” She laughed and pointed to Kevin.

He was feeling no pain and was currently on a small dance podium attempting to outshine two bikini-clad women. This, of course, was entertaining, because Kevin danced like an injured leather jacket. Limbs everywhere.

Leighton returned with three glasses of champagne, and I pressed the cool glass against my forehead. “It’s so hot.”

“I know.” She fanned herself and reached up to tug on the hem of Kevin’s barely there board shorts.

He looked down at us and grinned. “Get up here!” he screamed and shook his ass.

“No way.” Leighton laughed and held his flute up to him. He grabbed her by the wrist instead, hauling her up onto the little stage.

It was a miracle her champagne and his managed to stay mostly in the glasses.

She squealed and slapped at his arm. “Kevin!”

He twisted his upper body to the beat, not a care in the world, and looked down at me. “You’re turn.”

Putting my hand in his, I let him pull me up between the two of them.

And we danced.

We danced so hard our thighs burned and we dripped with sweat.

I was sober.

They weren’t.

And that didn’t matter.

Kevin and Leighton were my people.

You know what I mean, right? The ones who notice that behind the makeup, your eyes are tired, and behind the laughter, your heart is heavy, and all the while know that your mind is no less in relentless pursuit of adventure.

Those were your people.

Those were the people who really mattered.

The announcer started to count down and the crowd joined him.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Kevin pulled me into his side and I wrapped my arm around Leighton’s shoulders.

Six.

Five.

Four.

I wondered if this year perhaps I wouldn’t find the man I wanted, but the woman I wanted to be.

Three.

Two.

She was something I could make happen. Someone I could love.

One.

“Happy New Year!” I shouted, as the party erupted around us.

Leighton kissed my cheek.

I kissed hers.

Kevin kissed me on the lips.

I kissed his.

Leighton kissed Kevin on the lips.

He kissed her.

We all clinked our champagne flutes together.

“May 2017 be the year I do nothing but shag and make money!” Kevin screamed.

We toasted again.

Leighton went next. “May 2017 be the year I never use internet dating again!” she shouted above the crowd.