All I Want for Christmas is Revenge Novel – My boyfriend of seven years was giving a speech at a party and his phone started vibrating in his coat. The texts from a woman identified by only a letter. ‘O’. ‘I’m wet for you.’ ‘When can I see you?’ My heart dropped. I looked up at the man giving a speech on the stage, who was going to propose to me today. I scrolled through his past messages with that woman. The very first message was from September. We were in a cold war at that time. No wonder he never came to me to make peace. At that moment, I was a joke. I didn’t know how to pick up the pieces.
Brooke I’ve never been a particularly vengeful person… but a lot can change in 24 hours. It all started the night of my boyfriend’s graduation party. After 8.5 long years, Josh was finally getting his bachelor’s degree in accounting. At last! He had lined up a well-paying job at a major finance firm in California, and I wanted to celebrate before we moved across the country. Never one to do things halfway, I spent hours making sure every detail of the evening would be perfect. Did I mention that I also worked a full-time physical therapy job at St. Judith’s Hospital? Between work, chores, party planning, and organizing the move, I hadn’t slept more than six hours per night for the past month. I needed a nap. And a massage. And a very strong drink.
Well, one out of three ain’t bad, I thought as I sipped my cocktail. I surveyed the room, satisfied with the results of my work. I had booked the private event space at Southside Market, which was fancy enough to please his mother, but not so fancy it would bankrupt me. The large greenhouse was gently lit with overhead string lights, the warm glow reflecting off the glass walls. It was cozy, yet chic. My phone buzzed, and I dug it out of my cluttered purse. (Note to self: clean out purse.) It was Natalie, one of my closest friends. Has he proposed yet?? My stomach did a small flip. After seven years together, I was ready for the next step. I wanted marriage and I wanted to start a family. I had been very clear on that.
Call me old-fashioned, but I wasn’t uprooting my life and moving to San Francisco without a ring on my finger. It had to happen tonight. If I knew Josh, he would take advantage of such a beautiful setting to propose. He wasn’t one for big romantic gestures, and this dinner was tailor-made for an engagement. Not intentionally. Well… maybe a little intentionally. I allowed myself a brief moment to daydream about the wedding. I would take Josh’s last name, of course. Brooke Waters. It was a bit aquatic for my tastes, but I would make the best of it. I was good at finding the bright side in every situation. Maybe too good. If I was honest with myself, our relationship had been a little stale lately. Josh and I had fallen into a rut. Most of our evenings were spent with me working on my laptop at the kitchen table while Josh played video games on the couch.
Physically together yet emotionally separate. It was partly my fault, as I was so busy planning our new life in San Francisco. Organizing a cross-country move involved more logistics than I had ever thought possible. What apartments could we afford? What neighborhoods were safe? Did we need a one-bedroom or two-bedroom place? Where should I work? Where would our dog stay when we traveled? It made my head spin. I was confident that once we got to San Francisco, everything would get back on track. And getting engaged would certainly inject some excitement into the relationship! I looked down and smoothed my dress nervously. I hadn’t been able to stomach a single forkful of the goat cheese salad, even though it looked delicious. My life might be about to change forever. I was far too anxious to eat.
Josh stood up and tapped a knife on his champagne glass, snapping me out of my reverie. The room quieted and everyone craned their necks to look at him. I looked up at my boyfriend, who had changed little since we met in our junior year of college. He retained his boyish good looks, with bright blue eyes and a brilliant smile. He could be the lead singer in a boy band. Josh gave a thank you speech but didn’t mention me. Did he forget me? Surely not. I had single-handedly supported Josh, with no support from his ridiculously wealthy family, for almost six years now. I cleaned our apartment. I did his laundry. I helped him study. I planned this entire party! He would mention me next. Surely. I shouldn’t overreact and ruin the proposal. As Scott made his way back to his seat, Josh raised his champagne glass and said, “Now, everyone: eat, drink, and be merry!” The low hum of conversation resumed as waiters appeared with the main courses.
Josh sat down and started cutting into his steak. He didn’t notice me, sitting still as a statue next to him. “So, Brooke. How are things in physical therapy?” asked Josh’s mother Debra from across the table. While I was pleased to have a distraction from my internal turmoil, I found interactions with Debra stressful. It felt like I was taking a surprise exam and giving the wrong answers. (Yes, Debra played a leading role in most of my nightmares. Why do you ask?) “Busy, but rewarding,” I said, trying to act normal. “I’ve been working with a patient who was in a terrible car accident several months ago. The primary surgeon said he would never stand up again, but he’s making great progress and yesterday he actually walked several steps unassisted. I think it’s—” “How nice,” interrupted Debra. “I’m glad you’re enjoying your work.” She then diverted her attention to Paul and they started discussing his New Year’s Eve plans at the Stonemill Country Club.
I had failed another Debra Waters pop quiz. Shocking. The blatant disinterest from Josh’s family nagged at me. They had always been polite, technically, but they never treated me like part of the family. Josh denied that they treated me differently, but I got the sense that they didn’t think I was good enough for their golden boy. My leading theory: his parents didn’t approve of my working-class background. They were upper-class and image-conscious, with a huge house and countless expensive cars. I came from a decidedly blue-collar area of Stonemill, the product of a mechanic and a guidance counselor. I had gone to—gasp!—public school. The horror! The brush-off from Debra was the last straw. If I didn’t get a moment alone, I was going to explode and do something regrettable. I quietly excused myself from the table and went to the bathroom.
Fortunately, it was empty. I took three deep, ragged breaths before leaning forward and staring at myself in the large gilded mirror. I’m a catch, I reassured myself. My long, golden-brown hair naturally fell in loose waves around my face. Sure, I could lose a few pounds, but I was blessed with a great figure. Plus, I had a steady job and plenty of friends. I was more than good enough for the Waters family. Definite marriage material. Josh was lucky to have me. But it sure didn’t feel that way at the moment. I felt foolish and sick. Why hadn’t he thanked me? Or proposed, for that matter? Needless to say, this was not the end I had envisioned to this evening.
I called a cab and shepherded Josh into it. He leaned his forehead against the cold window and mumbled incoherently. As much as I wanted to hash things out right away, he wasn’t in shape for a tough conversation. Or any conversation. When we arrived at the apartment building, I helped him out of the cab, supporting most of his body weight. He smelled of whiskey and the sage cologne I had always hated. What?