She waved her hand. “Don’t trivialize it.”
“Is there something trivial about Christmas music?”
“Everything about Christmas, or the way we celebrate it at least, is trivial.”
Okay, those were fighting words. He leaned into the battle. “I love Christmas. It’s my favorite time of year.”
“Of course it is.”
“Enlighten me again.”
She shrugged. “You’re happiness and frivolity personified.”
He sucked his teeth to cover the sting of those words. “Them’s some big words for a dumb hick like me.”
“Stop pretending to be insulted. I never insinuated you were dumb or a hick.”
“Oh, trust me, honey. I heard your insinuation loud and clear when you ran out of my hotel room like I was some kind of diseased reptile.”
Her eyes flashed again, this time with shame. That should’ve been his cue to shut up, but instead he plowed forward.
“What was the problem? Were you too embarrassed to let people know you’d lowered yourself to sleeping with happiness and frivolity personified? Is the great and powerful Winthrop name too good to be sullied by the likes of a clichéd country bro? Or was this your plan all along? Fuck me and keep it in your pocket until you needed me for something?”
Her face fell, and in the brief second when her mask slipped away, he saw that his words had wounded her. Deeply. He really should’ve shut up. “Gretchen,” he breathed, pinching his eyes shut. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
He opened his eyes at the sound of her sliding out of the booth. “I can see this is going nowhere,” she said tightly.
“Wait,” he said, reaching for her hand.
She jerked it from his reach and instead grabbed her coat and bag. “I’ll tell my brother you’re not interested.”
Her heels sounded an angry retreat as she stormed away. A cold blast of air chilled the bar as she threw open the door and left.
“Fuck,” Colton breathed, once again squeezing his eyes shut. He needed to go after her, but when he opened his eyes to get out, Duff blocked his way.
“You handled that well,” Duff said.
Colton glared up at him. “Let me out.”
“Best to leave it be at this point.”
“How much did you hear?”
Duff dropped into the seat Gretchen had just vacated. “Enough to know you’re an asshole.”
No point arguing that fact.
Duff crossed his arms. “You know what your problem is?”
“I’m sure you’re going to delight in telling me.”
“You still don’t know the answer to my question.”
Colton rolled his eyes. “Not this shit again.”
“You’re unhappy, Colton.”
The use of his real name—not princess or dipshit or any other derogatory nickname—caught his attention as much as the sharp edge of the words. “Didn’t you hear, Duff? I’m happiness personified.”
“Happiness is the expectation that weighs you down.”
Okay, that was it. He’d had enough bullshit for one day. He slid out of the booth, dug his wallet from his back pocket, and dropped some bills on the table. “Merry Christmas,” he grumbled before turning away.
He heard the slow creak of Duff sliding from the booth. “We all wear the chains we forged in life, princess. You need to figure out what yours is made of before it’s too late.”
CHAPTER FIVE
The problem with having such a close group of buddies is that they were unapologetic about calling you out on your bullshit.
Colton should’ve known he wouldn’t be able to evade questions when he met up with the guys the next morning for breakfast at their regular diner, the Six Strings, but he did his damnedest to try. He immediately lifted the menu to cover his face as soon as he joined Noah, Malcolm, Mack, and Vlad at their table. Three other chairs remained unclaimed, waiting for the rest of the crew.
Vlad plucked the menu from Colton’s hands and tossed it on one of the empty seats.
“Hey,” Colton grumbled, picking it back up, “I was reading that.”
“You get the same thing every time,” Vlad said. He leaned close to study Colton’s face. “What is wrong with you?”
Colton pushed his friend back by the shoulder. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“I don’t believe you.” Vlad pointed. “You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“He’s right,” Malcolm said, studying Colton’s face. “You’re doing the thing.”