HONESTLY

Confessions

As Lily parked the car outside the coffeeshop, the paparazzi stood waiting with bated breath for my first public outing since my yoga class ambush. I unbuckled my seatbelt and glanced over at Lily, who was always camera ready, looking perfect in her tight, leather skirt and cropped, black turtleneck.

"You good?" Lily asked, glancing over at the cameras pointed in our direction lined up on the nearby sidewalk.

"No turning back," I said confidently as I stepped out of the car.

Instead of wearing my trusted baseball hat to hide my identity, I chose to let my long hair flow down my back. I held my head high and wasn't going to hide any longer. We both headed towards the coffee shop as tabloid reporters shouted over each other, causing a slightly chaotic scene around me.

I smiled politely, ignoring any of their questions as I simply said, "Nice to see you all, it's been awhile."

Lily held the door for me as I quickly walked in the coffeeshop.

"You've got balls," Lily said, after we ordered our latte's and took a seat back at our usual spot in front of the window.

"What do you mean?" I questioned, blocking the reporters out of my mind who were staring and taking pictures of us through the window.

Lily inconspicuously glanced over at the mob outside and then focused back on me. "I'm Not Sorry For Being Me, has like a gazillion views, and you basically did a, "Dear Diary," for the world to see. Now, you're out here, like it's no big deal. I mean, props to that."

She raised her coffee cup to cheers me, then she took a sip.

"I just don't care anymore," I said, getting right to the point. "If I could get through what Nate did to me, I think I can handle people taking pictures of me drinking a latte."

I took a sip of coffee as flashes continued to go off outside.

After that day, I finally felt my career was back on track. Walt was beyond happy that both Reed and I seemed to be staying out of the gossip columns. Reed and I remained good friends, but it was never the same as it was before.

As the holidays quickly approached, I felt like I could breathe again. The brisk air had turned frigid. It was the week after Thanksgiving. My mother always loved that time of year. Cutting down our Christmas tree was a day long affair, followed by another day of decorating the balsam fir with lights and lots of ornaments.

From before I could remember, my parents gifted me an ornament every year. When I became eighteen, I started my own tradition. I returned the favor and gifted them each an individual ornament of their own. After my mother died, my father and I continued the tradition.

One night, I was messing around with some chords on my guitar when my father called me. He asked me if I wanted to walk up to the farmhouse and exchange our ornaments. I stopped everything, excited to give him the sunflower ornament I had bought him. I grabbed the present off the counter, a small, square box wrapped in rustic paper with a large, red bow placed in the center.

I threw on my fleece jacket and walked quickly up to the main house. Even with security, I still felt uneasy about walking alone in the dark on our property wondering if someone was lurking behind a tree or something.  

I entered through the main door and headed towards the kitchen.

"It's freezing out. Definitely a good time to get in the holiday mood," I said, entering the kitchen with gift in hand.  

My dad greeted me with a warm hug and kiss on the cheek. He placed his small box, wrapped in shiny silver paper, on the counter next to mine.

"Where do you want to exchange?" I asked.