“Can you celebrate and mourn at the same time?”
“Yes.” My friend Natalie raises her bright pink Cosmo in a one-sided toast before taking a sip. “You can mourn the loss of a marriage you thought would last forever while also celebrating the fact you’re now free from your cheating rat-bastard ex.”
My lips twitch. Nat has always had a way with words.
“It’s a…somber celebration. An earnest observance, if you will,” she continues.
“Well, whatever it is, I’ll drink to it.” I raise my martini glass and she clinks hers against it. My eyes drift to my left hand, which once held a stunning diamond ring paired with a diamond-studded wedding band. Both are now tucked away in the bottom of my mom’s old jewelry box. I should pawn them and donate the money to charity. Or better yet, sell them online; people would pay a fortune for rings bought by the famous Alan Goodwin.
“Ugh, I’ve already lost you.” Natalie downs the rest of her Cosmo while signaling for the waitress. “No maudlin thoughts tonight, remember? No straying into the past. It may be a solemn celebration, but it’s a celebration nonetheless. We’re here to get you drunk and find you someone to go home with.”
“No,” I say forcefully, startling the waitress who’s just approached our table. I give her a rueful smile while Nat orders us another round. “No,” I repeat once our server has returned to the bar. “I agreed to the drinking, but I’m not finding some random guy to hook up with.”
“Joss, come on. You’d have no trouble picking up any guy you want in this place.” She casts a glance around the crowded bar, her gaze stopping more than once, brows lifting in appreciation at whoever catches her eye. She gives her head a shake, returning her attention to me. “You know what they say: the best way to get over someone—”
“Don’t say it, please don’t say it.”
“—Is to get under someone else,” she barrels on as if I hadn’t spoken.
I can’t help but laugh. “Who came up with that anyway?”
Natalie shrugs, grinning at the waitress as she returns and hands Nat her third Cosmo of the night. I thank her when she sets my martini in front of me.
“Who knows? What I do know is it works. I’m not suggesting you marry the next guy you meet. Hell, I’m not even suggesting you date him. Just find yourself a hottie, revel in a night of no-strings passion, and enjoy the reminder that you’re a sexy woman in her prime, and Alan is a loser asshole for leaving you for someone else.”
Despite knowing her words are meant to be light and funny, they sting. I don’t need to be reminded that my husband left me for another woman. A younger woman. Such a cliché. “Well, I appreciate that, but I have something else in mind.”
“Oh? Do tell.” She leans forward, elbows on the table. She’s going to be mighty disappointed when she learns my plan doesn’t involve rebound sex. Or any sex at all.
“Seeing as I’m between projects right now, and with the dreaded holiday season approaching, I thought this would be the perfect time for a little…escape.”
“Escape,” Natalie repeats. If it weren’t for the Botox she got earlier in the week, I imagine her forehead would be creasing in confusion right now. “What does that mean? Where? And for how long?”
I take a deep breath, followed by a gulp of my cocktail. I already know what Nat is going to think of this plan, so I need fortification. “One of my neighbors was telling me about how her daughter rents a cottage for a week or so every December in a place a few hours north of here called Honeywell Hollow. She’s a writer, and she goes there for some peace and quiet to get a bunch of work done before the end of the year. It got me thinking maybe I could do the same. Except instead of working, I’d have a break from being recognized everywhere I go and being accosted by people ranging from sympathetic to nosy to downright obnoxious.”
“So you basically want to run away?” Natalie says.
I swallow a sigh. I knew that was how she’d see it. I love Nat, but one of the traits of her larger-than-life personality includes thinking she knows what’s best for everyone. I’m about to reply when a shock of red hair catches the corner of my eye. A pretty young woman hovers nearby, clutching her phone to her chest.
“It is you,” she says, smiling so wide I can see almost all her teeth. “My friends said there was no way it was you, but it is. You are Josslyn Hazelwood, right?”
I don’t even have to fake a smile; hers is so genuinely excited, it’s infectious. “I am. What’s your name?”
She lets out a high-pitched giggle that has my grin spreading. I’ve encountered this before: it’s part ‘I can’t believe she just asked my name’ and part ‘oh my god, did I just forget my own name?’ I may be weary of my job, but I’m grateful for my fans. They’re the reason I have a job.
“Veronica,” she says, sticking out her hand. I slide my hand into her clammy one and she pumps it enthusiastically, her megawatt smile still firmly in place. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t come say hi. And, um, maybe ask for a selfie? If that’s okay?”
“It’s no bother, honestly. And we can do better than a selfie.” I slide off my stool and hold my hand out for her phone. “I’ll have my friend take our picture. That work for you?”
“Yes!” Veronica glances quickly at Natalie, but doesn’t seem to recognize her. That could be because, unlike me, Nat actually works at being incognito when she goes out. Tonight she’s not Natalie Huang, one of Canada’s most famous actresses, she’s Hipster Nat, with a pair of fake dark-rimmed glasses perched on her nose and her signature long black hair contained under an oversized beanie. I seem to get recognized no matter what I do, especially this time of year once the Christmas movies I’m best known for start airing, so I’ve stopped trying to fly under the radar.
Natalie snaps several pictures, then hands the phone back with a smile. “I think I got a few good ones.”
“Thank you so much.” Veronica’s arms practically twitch at her sides. I know she wants to hug me, so I hold my arms out. She squeals as she wraps me in a quick, tight embrace. “Thank you! I can’t wait for your new movie. My friends and I are having a big viewing party when it airs. And I’m really sorry about you and Alan.” She winces and smacks herself on the forehead. “Shit, I probably shouldn’t have said that!”
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her, holding back a laugh. I’ve grown accustomed to many things from fans over the years, including uncontrollable word vomit. “I hope you like the new movie. It was nice meeting you.”
“You too! Have a great night!” With that, she gives me an enthusiastic wave and bounces back to her group of friends, who huddle around to question her and look at the pictures on her phone.
Feeling several pairs of eyes on me, I keep a smile plastered to my face as I meet Natalie’s gaze. “And that is why I need a break from Toronto. Call it an escape, call it running away. I don’t really care because I’m going either way. I want to go to the grocery store without being asked about my next movie, or go to the theater without being quizzed about what it was like working with Tim Sagger as a kid. I want to walk down the freakin’ street without someone stopping me to share their condolences—or worse, their detailed, personal opinion—over my failed marriage.”
I suck in a deep breath, watching as Nat’s eyes widen with each rushed word that comes out of my mouth. “I need a break. I don’t need you to understand, I just need you to support me. Okay?”
“Okay. Okay.” Natalie holds up her hands in surrender. “I get it. I still don’t think running away will actually solve anything, but it’s your life, and you have my support. Always.” She smiles at me over the rim of her glass before taking a sip. “How long will you be gone?”
I take another fortifying gulp of my drink, then clear my throat, hoping my tone comes out casual. “Just ’til the new year.”
“The—” Natalie’s mouth falls open and she sputters a bunch of incoherent sounds. “The new year? That long? It’s only mid-November!”
I sit up straighter, squaring my shoulders. This is my decision. It wasn’t one I came to lightly or without a lot of thought, and I won’t let Natalie cast any doubts over it. “Yes, until the new year. I’m renting a house in Honeywell Hollow and I’m going to spend the next several weeks doing my own thing.” Whatever that is. I haven’t had this much downtime since…well, ever, but I’m sure I’ll figure something out.
Natalie sighs dramatically. “Okay. I hope you’ll be happy hiding out in some backwater town doing god knows what.”
Irritation flashes through me until I see the shit-eating grin on her face. She’s trying to goad me into arguing. Not gonna happen.
“I hear those small towns are the best places to meet hot men,” she says. “Maybe you’ll have a real-life meet cute like your characters do in your movies. You’ll be out doing whatever it is people do in small towns, and you’ll stumble upon some handsome hunk of a man. One who works with his hands and drives a pickup truck, of course.”
I snort into my drink. “Why a pickup truck?”
“Oh come on, you know the leading men in the movies you’re in always work with their hands and drive a truck. Unless they’re some big-city corporate guy who practically lives in the office and drives a fancy sports car or gets chauffeured around.”
She’s got me there. I think back to the last three Christmas movies I did, and what the leading men did for a living and drove: reindeer rancher, drove a pickup; carpenter, drove a pickup; Christmas tree farmer and, yep, you guessed it, drove a pickup.
“You may be right, but I’m serious when I say I’m not interested in hooking up with anyone. I want to slow down and enjoy some peace and quiet. Take this time to figure some things out.” Natalie’s eyes light with curiosity, making me regret those last words. This isn’t the time or place to get into any of that, so I barrel on. “The house I’m renting has three bedrooms. Maybe you can visit for a weekend before Christmas. We can hide out together for a few days.”
“Christmas!” she cries, suddenly looking dismayed. “You’re actually going to be gone for Christmas? Staying by yourself in some strange town, spending the holidays alone?”
Her words stir up a myriad of memories and emotions I’ve worked hard to deal with over the years. And by ‘deal with’ I mean ‘suppress’—just ask my former therapist. I keep my face carefully blank as I shrug and pick up my glass to drain its contents. “I’ve spent plenty of Christmases alone. Only child whose mother worked constantly, remember? More often than not, Christmas has been just like any other day of the year for me.”
Natalie clutches her chest and groans. Always with the theatrics, this one. She definitely went into the right profession. “But you’re the Queen of Christmas, Joss. Hearing you say that is like some sort of blasphemy.”
“Josslyn Hazelwood the actress, star of countless cheesy, fluffy holiday movies on the From the Heart Network is the Queen of Christmas. Joss Hazelwood the real person is…well, I wouldn’t say I’m a Scrooge, but I don’t get the warm, fuzzy feelings and holiday cheer a lot of other people seem to experience at this time of year.”
Ready to be finished with this conversation, I pull a twenty-dollar bill from my purse and tuck it under my glass before getting to my feet. “And on that note, I need to get home because I’m leaving for Honeywell Hollow tomorrow afternoon.”
“Tomorrow? God, you really are full of surprises.” Natalie hops to her feet and holds out her arms for a hug. “You’ll stay in touch, right? You’re not going quite that far off the grid in Honeybun Creek, are you?”
I laugh, rolling my eyes even though she can’t see me. “Honeywell Hollow. And no, I’m sure they have cell reception. Who knows, they might even have that new-fangled Wi-Fi.” I release her slowly, gripping her hand and giving it a squeeze.
“We’ll talk soon. And…” She trails off, peering over my shoulder, eyes going wide in appreciation. I follow her gaze, spotting a guy at the bar who looks like he could be Idris Elba’s twin brother watching us with a small smile. He raises his beer bottle in salute.
I nod in acknowledgement before turning back to a grinning Natalie. “You were saying?”
She clears her throat, giving her head a little shake. “Yes, right. I was saying you should consider what I said about letting a round or two of hot sex work its magic in your healing process. You might not feel like celebrating Christmas, but that doesn’t mean you can’t let some hot guy jingle your bells and make your season merry.”
I burst out laughing, pulling her back in for another hug. “I’ll think about it. For now, I’m leaving.”
“That hottie over there seems like he wouldn’t mind leaving with you.” Natalie nudges me with her elbow while wiggling her eyebrows as much as her Botoxed face will allow.
I shift our positions slightly so I can get a better look at the guy at the bar. He’s still watching us, now with an expression I can only call hopeful. Maybe Nat has a point; maybe there’s something to be said for her theory of getting under someone to get over someone else. But not tonight.
“He’s all yours,” I tell her, kissing her cheek and reaching for my coat and scarf. “I have a feeling you’re already on Santa’s Naughty List anyway.”
“You better believe it!” Her laughter trails after me as I wind my way through the high tables and stools toward the door.