The Christmas Orphans Club by Becca Freeman

Author:Becca Freeman [Freeman, Becca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2023-09-26T00:00:00+00:00

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By the time we stagger out of the elevator we’re both sweating, and the tree has lost at least twenty percent of its needles. “What if it has a bald spot?” David wonders aloud as we carry it down the hallway to our apartment, leaving a trail of pine droppings in our wake.

“We’ll have to love it anyway because there’s no way I can repeat this heroic act of strength. I’m sure Amazon sells tree toupees.” We smile at each other with punch-drunk grins.

“Maybe we can get a second tree, a younger girlfriend to complete his midlife crisis,” he says between laughs.

David goes to set up the stand while I head for the half bath to minister to the tiny cuts on my fingers. There are no bandages in the medicine cabinet, but I know David keeps some in his sock drawer, ready to use with his black dress shoes that give him blisters.

In the sock drawer, there aren’t any Band-Aids, but there is a black velvet box nestled among his neatly organized selection of socks, all paired with their mates.

My heart rate ticks up.

This might not be what you think it is, I tell myself.

Even as a fluttery, nervous feeling takes up in my stomach, I cling to the idea that the box is a pair of cuff links or a Christmas gift for his mother. Maybe a nice pendant necklace or a pair of earrings. Just please don’t be a ring. I don’t feel ready for it to be a ring. I realize from years of rom-coms and women’s magazines packed with recipes for “engagement chicken”—a roast chicken to make for your boyfriend in hopes of conjuring this exact moment—that this isn’t the correct reaction. But it does shed some light on why things got so heated on Thanksgiving. Maybe it wasn’t about Christmas at all. Maybe it was because David already bought a ring.

After a glance toward the door to make sure David is occupied—he’s squatting in the corner of the living room trying to get the tree into the stand by himself—I flip open the lid to the box.

Inside is a pointy oval-shaped diamond on a simple gold band. The only thing I can think to compare the shape to is a vagina.

What the fuck?

For a second, my nervousness is replaced with sheer confusion. I’ve never been the type to fantasize about my dream engagement ring, but I’m positive this isn’t it. What about this ring reminds David of me? If I wasn’t sure David isn’t the cheating type, I might think the ring was meant for someone else.

Suddenly, my breath grows quick and shallow. Doesn’t he know me at all? How could he think this is the ring I’d want?

“Hannah? Can I get your help for a sec?” he yells from the living room. I clutch my chest as if he’d walked in on me wearing a wedding veil and waltzing with a photo of him. I pop the lid of the ring box closed and slam the drawer shut with my hip.

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