Sheila Roberts - Three Christmas Wishes

The day certainly started out that way. Her pumpkin pies—the first she’d ever made, thank you very much—came out beautifully. She decided to celebrate with a homemade eggnog latte. (If she kept doing that, she’d be a size ten forever, but so what? Sean loved her just as she was.)

She was taking a sip when her cell phone rang. “Let’s Hear it for the Boy,” Sean’s ringtone.

“Hello there, Mr. Little,” she answered.

And now he’d say, “Hello there, future Mrs. Little.”

Except he didn’t. He said, “Riley, I need to talk to you.” He sounded serious.

Oh, boy. She knew what that meant. He was going to weasel out of going to her parents’ for Thanksgiving. For some reason, lately he didn’t like hanging out with her family. He’d actually canceled on attending her brother’s birthday party the month before. When she’d asked him what that was about, he’d used work as an excuse. “Anyway, I don’t think your brother likes me,” he’d added.

Which was ridiculous. Harold liked him just fine. Okay, Harold thought he was a tool. But what did Harold know?

“You don’t want to go to Mom and Dad’s?” she guessed.

“It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

“I should come over.”

“You’re coming over in a few hours,” she pointed out. Not that she’d mind seeing him now, but it was only ten in the morning and she’d been busy baking and hadn’t gotten around to showering yet and she hated it when Sean didn’t see her at her best.

“I know, I know,” he said, but not to her.

Now she heard a voice in the background. Who was he talking to? “Sean, what’s going on?”

“I’m not sure how to say this.”

Riley felt the blood start rushing from her head. Something bad was about to happen. She could feel the impending doom buzzing in the air around her. She fell onto the nearest bar stool, bracing herself.

There was that voice again, decidedly female. Riley suddenly felt as if she’d swallowed a block of ice.

“I am,” Sean said, again not to Riley. “Riley...”

“Yes?” Her voice came out in a whisper.

“There’s no easy way to say this. We need to break up.”

“Break up?”

“I’m sorry.”

“But...we’re getting married in three weeks. And two days,” she amended. Three weeks and two days to go and Sean wanted to break up. Now the ice was melting and pouring out of her eyes.

“I’m really sorry. But if we get married it’ll be a big mistake.”

It would? This was news to her. “What do you mean? I don’t understand.” She had to be asleep. That was it. She was asleep and this was a nightmare. She pinched her arm. Yowch!

“I’ve met someone else.”

“Three weeks before the wedding?” Three weeks and two days, but who was counting?

“No, I met her before that. Things have been, uh, growing between us. Our feelings.”

Three weeks before the wedding? Only a year ago he’d gotten down on one knee in front of all the other diners at Bella Bella’s Italian restaurant, produced a diamond ring and declared he’d love her forever. What had happened to forever?

“How could you do this? We were in love.” At least one of them was. “You thought I was adorable.” Didn’t adorable count for anything these days?

“You are. Shit, Riley. I hate to hurt you like this. I feel awful.”

He felt awful? “Who is it?” Who had stolen her groom three weeks before the wedding?

“This is awkward.”

Awkward? This was a catastrophe. “Who is it?” she demanded.

“It’s, uh, Emily.”

“Emily? My bridesmaid? This is a joke, right?”

But Sean wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t even there anymore. Now someone else was on the other end of the call. Emily herself. Emily, Riley’s fellow teacher, lover of small children, friend. Bitch.

“Riley, I’m so sorry. We’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you.”

“How long have you been trying?”

“All month.”

All month. This whole month Emily had listened to her prattle about how lovely the church was going to look decorated with red and white roses and candles, how her grandma was making her garter, how Sean had someplace special picked out for their honeymoon. It was going to be a surprise.

Well, he’d certainly succeeded in surprising her.

“You were supposed to be my bridesmaid,” she protested. You were supposed to be my friend.

“I know. I really am sorry. It just...happened.”

“Where did it just happen?” Oh, wait. She knew.

Sure enough. “At the gym.”

That explained those extra-long hours Sean had been putting in. When you owned a business...blah, blah. The only business going on had been Emily in the business of stealing Sean. “You thief! You rotten, man-stealing thief. I thought you were my friend.”

“I was. I am.”

Not anymore. “Have you been sleeping with him?” It was Silent Night on the other phone.

“You’ve been sleeping with my fiancé. Seriously?”

No wonder Emily didn’t want Riley to match her up with someone. She’d already matched herself. Was that who she’d been talking to when Riley walked into her classroom the day before? I need to get going. Yeah, she’d gotten going—right over to see Sean.

“Riley... Oh, here’s Sean.”

“I hate you,” Riley said as soon as he came back on the line.

“Come on, Riley. Don’t be like this.”

“And why isn’t she in Portland?” Or Timbuktu. Or Antarctica. The North Pole. No, scratch the North Pole. Santa would ban her.

“She was going but her plans changed.”

Just like Riley’s. No more wedding, no more wedding reception, no honeymoon with the perfect man who’d turned out to be anything but. No more life. And breaking up with her on Thanksgiving? Who did that?

Sean Little, that was who, the man she’d loved with all her stupid heart, the man who’d just broken that stupid heart. All that was left of her perfect life was her pumpkin pies. If Sean and Riley were here, she’d hit each of them in the face with one.

“Riley, I wish this hadn’t happened,” he said.

That made two of them. “I can’t talk anymore,” she said. “I have to get ready to go to my parents’ and be thankful.”

Chapter Two

Riley ended the call but made no move to go anywhere. Instead she stayed on the bar stool and hyperventilated. Get a bag. Breathe into a bag. All she had was plastic bags. Probably not the best plan.

So she switched to crying at the top of her lungs. Good thing most of her neighbors at the Pine Ridge Apartments were out of town for the long weekend, having fun with their families.

Or their boyfriends.

Her crying increased in volume. How could this have happened to her? It was like getting hit by a tidal wave. She grabbed a box of tissues from the bathroom and, hugging it like a long-lost friend, planted herself on her couch and cried some more.

The fold-out turkey centerpiece she’d found at Daily’s Drugstore sat on her dining room table, mocking her. She’d envisioned Sean and her starting their happy life together, sitting at that table every morning, having breakfast before they went off to work, then enjoying a cozy dinner for two when they returned home.

Sean would still be enjoying a cozy dinner for two. Just not with her. She grabbed another tissue.

It only took her half an hour to go through every tissue in the box. She needed something sturdier. Paper towels.

There on the kitchen counter, next to the paper towel dispenser, sat the pumpkin pies. She wished she hadn’t offered to bring them. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. She loved to bake, and Mom had her hands full with the rest of dinner. She’d been excited to show off her culinary artwork to the rest of the family, imagined the oohs and aahs as everyone savored each pumpkiny bite.