Home for Christmas by Camilla Isley

Author:Camilla Isley [Isley, Camilla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Chick Lit, Clean Romance, Contemporary Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Family Life, Holiday Romance, Christmas, Romantic Comedy
Publisher: Pink Bloom Press
Published: 2022-02-08T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-five

Riven

The scream that ripples through the house from the upstairs bathroom would be worthy of any respectable horror movie.

“Here we go,” I mutter, folding the newspaper I’ve been reading.

I stand up from the couch and brace myself for the incoming storm. Promptly, the bathroom door bangs open, and angry steps stomp down the stairs.

I move behind the couch to put a barrier of sorts between me and the approaching fury.

Wendy storms into the living room, still wearing only a bathrobe and pointing a finger at me.

Don’t be distracted, Riven, not even by the tantalizing amount of legs-skin exposed.

“You did this!” she yells. “The nice bath, the speech, it was all a ploy.”

No point in denying it, summoning my most smartass expression I shrug. “It worked.”

“What do you mean it worked?”

“You’re off the couch and showing signs of a personality.”

“My hair is pink!” Wendy screams. “My perfect, natural, never-dyed hair is freaking pink!”

Wendy starts to reach for me, but I circle the couch keeping it firmly between us. “Technically, the shade is pearl blush—”

“Tell me it’s washable or I swear I’ll strangle you with my bare hands.”

“It’s washable.”

Wendy stops circling around the couch trying to catch me and narrows her one free eye at me. “Is it really?”

“No, sorry, the hair salon only had permanent dye. But they assured me this color is really hip.”

“The hair salon? You went to a hair salon specifically to substitute Amy’s hair mask with pink dye, why?”

“Actually, both the shampoo and the fake hair mask come from the hair salon, but yes, I asked them to put the pink dye in the mask container, and I correctly anticipated you’d assume those were Amy’s leftovers and help yourself.”

“But why? Why did you do this to me?”

“I couldn’t get you to react in any other way, so making you mad seemed like my best last option.” I smirk, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’re welcome.”

“Oh, so I should thank you now? You’re completely deranged. And react to what, anyway? I was absolutely fine!”

“Wendy, you’ve been catatonic for days. You weren’t answering your family or your friends, you’ve barely been talking to me―”

“That’s because you’re clearly a sociopath.” She pulls on a string of hair as if demonstrating her theory.

“And you weren’t eating or showering, what was I supposed to do?”

Wendy grips the couch cushions. “Not dye my hair pink. My hair is freaking pink.”

“Yeah, I think we’ve established that. But you looked like you were sinking into depression, and I was worried.”

“My whole life has fallen apart,” she hisses. “I’ve nearly lost an eye, I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere for two months, and my boyfriend of two years broke up with me over the phone because his job is too stressful to go six weeks without sex.” Ah, so these are the sordid breakup details. I only have a moment to take them in before Wendy keeps yelling at me, “I was doing what every normal person would do—taking a few days to lick my wounds in peace.

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