Three Christmas Wishes. Sheila Roberts

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.

      No way did she want to go to the family dinner now, not when life as she knew it had come to an end. She put the pies in the fridge and called her sister.

      “Hey, there,” Jo answered. “Gobble, gobble.”

      Gobble, gobble. Happy Thanksgiving. “I can’t go to Mom and Dad’s,” Riley wailed.

      “What? What’s wrong?”

      “You have to come get the pies.”

      “What do you mean? Are you sick?”

      “It’s Sean. He...he...”

      “He’s sick.”

      “No.”

      “He’s dead!”

      “Nooo.”

      “Then what? Oh, no. He broke up with you,” Jo guessed, quickly arriving at the correct conclusion. There was only one thing as bad as Sean dying, and he had done it.

      “Y-yes,” Riley sobbed.

      “What’s his problem?”

      “Emily.”

      “Emily?”

      “They’re...they’re...” Riley couldn’t finish the sentence.

      “That be-atch,” Jo growled. “That sneaky little fake friend. I’ll be right over.”

      The pie problem solved, Riley took the roll of paper towels and returned to the couch. Maybe she’d see if Jo could bring home some leftovers for her...in case she ever wanted to eat again. She hated to miss Thanksgiving dinner but the thought of facing everyone was more than she could bear. She’d be a real dinner buzzkill, sitting there like the world’s biggest loser, crying into her candied yams.

      Ten minutes later Jo was at the door. And not only Jo but Mom and Grammy, too, neither of whom would leave the kitchen on Thanksgiving Day unless the world was coming to an end. Oh, no. This was so humiliating.

      Until they rushed her and gave her a group hug, everyone standing in the entryway like a giant amoeba.

      The