3. Britt

3

brITT

Tuesday, December 12

O nly four volunteers have showed up so far, and most of them are terrifying, cliquey PTO moms. Is no one else interested in making this dance magical for their children? Maybe four is enough, especially given that one already messaged me saying three of them volunteered last year and would stop by the school on their way to assess decorations in the storage closet.

"Let's just give everyone else two more minutes, okay? Anyone want coffee?" I'm lingering in the kitchen while the trio of moms get cozy on the couch, obviously close friends. I vaguely recognize them from previous school events. They are all clutching large Starbucks cups. Another mom, dressed in business casual and with curled hair and full makeup, is staring at her phone at the table where I wrapped presents last night.

The dark-haired mom with a red infinity scarf glances up and gestures to her coffee.

"We're good." Then she goes back to her conversation with the other women.

Must be nice. I'm betting none of them developed inappropriate feelings for the other's husband. Or at least if they did, they knew better than to say anything about it.

A calendar notification pops up on my phone. It's seven o'clock.

"Okay! Let's get started." I move awkwardly to the front of the couch, feeling like I'm about to give a formal presentation. I back up and sit on the single couch chair, facing away from the outside door to the Idea Garage.

"Tell me more later," the mom with a cute blond bob whispers loudly to a woman with a gray ponytail.

"I appreciate you all joining me at the last minute. As you know, Vicky's out of commission, so I'm just trying to wrap things up for Friday's dance."

"We swung by the school on the way here," cute blond bob mom says. "I'm Liz, by the way."

"I'm Sara," red infinity scarf mom chirps.

"Jill." Jill swings her gray ponytail and waggles her fingers at me.

Corporate mom pipes in, introducing herself as Grace, barely looking up from whatever she's been furiously tapping away at on her phone.

"Hi. And awesome. Thank you. I hadn't even figured out how to get the key to the storage closet."

"There's no key. You just have to be brave enough to descend into the high school basement," Sara says, and the other moms on the couch giggle.

"That feels like a bad idea." Grace crinkles her forehead.

"Kinda does." I don't even know where the basement is, given that Jackson goes to classes across the street in the middle school. "Is everything we need in there?"

"Well. Good news and bad news—" Liz stops talking when a click at the front door distracts her.

I turn my head and a squeak escapes my throat, loud enough that I sense the women glancing at me, instead of the man standing in the doorframe.

It's Adrian, and the sight of him takes my breath away.

Towering there on the welcome mat with freshly cut dark hair that swoops onto his forehead and two-day stubble, he's everything I've ever wanted... but couldn't have.

And he's staring right at me with brown, broody, intense eyes, like there's not a room of PTO moms.

"Sorry I'm late." Adrian slips his jacket off.

Waving my hand toward corporate mom Grace, where there's an empty chair, I attempt to do normal things with my mouth.

"Thanks for coming." My voice comes out scratchy and soft, as if we're somewhere else—perhaps all alone under romantic moonlight and shooting stars and he's about to confess his love—not in my house with a bunch of moms. A ridiculous thought.

But I can't stop staring.

Why is he here? To volunteer for the school dance? That doesn't feel like something Adrian would do. That was always Reese's thing, taking care of all of Chelsea's school stuff and juggling her job, while Adrian focused solely on work.

And CrossFit, eventually.

Gray ponytail mom—otherwise known as Jill—clears her throat. I whip my attention away from Adrian back to the couch o' scary PTO moms.

"What were we talking about?" I'm totally thrown off my game.

"Storage closet," Jill says, eyebrows raised.

"Right. Good news and bad news. Go on." I focus on her, then back to Liz as she takes a breath to talk.

"The good news is most of the winter dance decorations were in plastic bins."

"Excellent." I nod my head enthusiastically, all too aware of Adrian's eyes on me. All these months of me running from him and Reese, avoiding talking to or being anywhere close to them, and now he's in my house. He shouldn't be here.

Nausea crashes over me and I clench my stomach muscles, trying to dissipate the feeling. Or is that an excited fluttering? The negative and positive are entwined together, impossible to detangle.

"Oh." My brain re-plays Liz's sentence. "Most? So what's the bad news?"

"Everything was stored in that wet, nasty closet. There was a leak that ruined all of the strands of pretty white lights." She makes a face.

"All of them? Oh, shit."

"Yeah. Someone haphazardly stored them in cardboard boxes. I'm not sure who was on the cleanup crew last year, but they really screwed up. We dragged them behind the school to the dumpster."

"So we have no lights at all for our winter dance?"

"Correct. And we ran to Target on the way here, but the store is totally sold out. Then we had to get to this meeting, so..." She sips from her coffee, daring me to question whether they could have looked at another store instead of getting Starbucks.

"Oh my god." This is going to be an enormous problem. Lights are the cornerstone of any good holiday decor. Without lights, the dance will be dark and boring. It won't be festive at all.

Just like Christmas Eve without Adrian.

Or Reese and Chelsea. Jackson, too, since he'll be with his father for the first time in years. "Okay, let's get through the other things first, then I can think about lights."

"Someone should probably report the leak to school maintenance." Liz looks pointedly at me.

"Yes, yes, of course." I realize they mean me. The school dance chair. "I'll take care of that." I add it to the to-do list I've started.

"As for other responsibilities," Liz continues, "Sara and I were already coordinating the food. That's all under control, so we just have a few follow-ups this week."

I thought someone said Vicky had everything under control. I guess that wasn't quite right.

"Did you hear from the caterer this afternoon?" Sara turns toward her friend.

"Yup, let me find the email." Liz scrolls on her phone.

I sneak a look over at Adrian, who hasn't said a word. He's watching me. Waiting for me to make eye contact. An electric current crackles between us. There's so much unsaid, so many stories left to tell... so much that I ruined with my dumb confession about my stupid feelings.

His lips curl up in a small smile and he mouths: hey .

My eyes grow wide and old butterflies rise from the dead in my stomach. What's happening here? I look away quickly as Liz updates us all on what the caterer said.

Thirty minutes later, we've established Jill will coordinate the setup and cleanup volunteers, Grace will follow up with the DJ, and I'll manage the main chaperone list, which Vicky thankfully had started in a Google Doc.

"Finally, the lights, I guess," I say. "I can find new ones. I have a few days, maybe I can order them online or something..." A gym full of fairy lights by Friday, two weeks before Christmas? Still, I have to make it happen. After school yesterday, I told Jackson I was in charge of the dance and his eyes lit up, a big smile on his face.

"Yeah. You'll probably need a hundred boxes." Liz raises her eyebrows. "Literally."

A hundred boxes? Sounds like a holiday nightmare. Crowded stores, empty shelves, grumpy employees.

"I'll help you." Everyone's head whips around to Adrian, except mine, which rotates in super slow motion. He hasn't added a word to the conversation. I bet the other moms forgot he was even there.

I didn't, though.

"You'll help me?" My voice does not sound normal. My eyes dart to the moms on the couch, who are all watching us interact, eyes wide and interested.

"Yes. I can help you find lights. For the dance?"

One mom giggles. No clue which one.

I swallow a lump that appears in my throat, threatening to choke me.

Why would he volunteer for this? It's bad enough he's here, in my house, looking the way he does, making me feel things I've been trying to beat down for the past six months. But now he wants to spend extra time together this week? One on one?

I can't do this. What would we even talk about? What if I say something stupid again? What if Reese finds out? I want to talk to her at some point. Apologize. Beg for her friendship. I've been desperately lonely. I need my best friend back.

Only what if she finds out about me and Adrian going on this light-hunting expedition?

But that isn't my greatest fear, not right now.

My greatest fear is this: what if I find out that my inappropriate feelings for Adrian are still raging? That me removing myself from the situation not only screwed up their marriage, but didn't do what I'd intended? It would mean I'm like my ex-husband's new wife, who let herself fall for a married man.

I hate that I broke my best friend's marriage.

"You might need to run to a bunch of stores to find enough lights. I'll help. Okay, Britt?" His voice is steady, as if he's trying to calm a freaked-out child or an anxious cat. I feel like a little of both.

"Great. Thank you." I practically bark the words to sound confident and normal. Sara flinches dramatically. Jill snort-laughs.

Perfect. The PTO moms think I'm a freak show.

The meeting wraps and the four moms jet out of the Idea Garage, promising to connect within the next day, leaving me standing by the door with it cracked open. Adrian remains seated at the table. He hasn't moved.

I turn, but feeling half like crying and half like hysterically laughing, I can't bring myself to make eye contact with him. I want to run over and throw my arms around his neck, but I also want to stand here like a statue until he leaves me in peace.

Adrian is untouchable.

We can't work together to find one hundred boxes of lights.

If I keep doing things wrong in life, I'll never find what I'm looking for, whatever or whoever that is.

I'll never be happy.

"Britt. Look at me."

The moms' cars are gone. The house is quiet.

I'll just tell Adrian I don't need his help.

All I have to do is find the nerve to face him.