“Henri, I was hoping to run into you. The check for your services will be sent after the holiday,” says a woman in a lavender dress. Her shiny black hair is secured back in a sleek chignon. It’s not until she lowers her pearlescent mask that I recognize her.
“Fallon, I didn’t expect to see you here,” I say, giving up on the cantaloupe that slips off my toothpick.
“Marty and Alexi throw the best parties and I never miss them. God, last year it was celestial themed and there were enough beaded Staud dresses to last a lifetime.”
“If I could get my hands on one, I’d make every excuse to wear it.”
She chimes a laugh and starts to load her plate with pineapple. “Fair enough. I just wanted to thank you for helping Liam with that final article. I know it was last minute, but the final product was amazing. It’s been live less than twenty-four hours and we’reon track to break records for digital, though the ending was a bit unexpected. But you lived it, so I guess it wasn’t much of a surprise to you.”
“I wouldn’t know. I still haven’t read it.”
“I think it would be worth your time to see the outcome of your time together. As always, he was deeply honest with his words in a way few people are. It’s truly sad to see him go.”
“He is something special.”
“Tell him hello for me,” she says with a wave before vanishing into the crowd.
“Yeah, I’ll hold onto that for three years,” I mutter.
The party swells around me, more guests pouring in the closer we get to midnight. By eleven, everyone is happily drunk. I dance with Iris and Jasmine and even manage to steal Marty and Alexi for a few minutes before they’re pulled away by adoring guests.
But as midnight draws closer and people start to pair off, I start to wish I was somewhere else. Eventually, I give into the feeling. It’s nice to know there will be another over-the-top party next year, and that I’m really not missing anything by ducking out early.
When I reach the elevator, there’s a couple already there, making out against the wall, only bothering to pry themselves apart long enough to slip inside. It’s a pretty easy decision to wait on the next one instead of becoming a voyeur.
As I wait, curiosity itches at me, Fallon’s words weaving through my mind. In a moment of weakness, or desperation, I pull out my phone and type inSpitfire’s website.
There at the top, is Liam’s article. The image used is a stock photo with the woman’s face blurred out. The headline reads:Always the Holiday Date, Never the Girlfriend.
I tap on it before I can talk myself out of reading.
It might be easy to think someone who hires a date is pathetic. But I think they’re more honest than most of usare. They know what they need. Support. Someone who is unequivocally in their corner.
And that’s what Jane (name changed) specializes in. As a professional date, she gets to know her clients, what they need and fear, but most importantly what they seek to prove to others. She shows up for people in the ways they wish they could show up for themselves.
Reader: I have never met someone who cares so much about every person she meets, and over Christmas I was lucky enough for her to care about me.
When the elevator door dings open, I walk inside out of habit, barely pausing to press the button for the first floor.
My vision swims as I continue to read. Liam details our adventures through New York and our trip to Dulcet Point. To my surprise, he includes everything—our falling out and reconciliation after the office party, the way he moped around in my absence, only leaving out the intimate details of our relationship
Would I do it again? Hopefully I don’t need to. But I think what Jane showed me and her other clients is what it feels like to be understood, setting the bar high for a future real partner.
The final line steals the breath right from my lungs.
Reader: One last thing. I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you this. I think I fell in love with her, and I don’t think I need to do it again with anyone else, because she’s it for me.
I’m wiping my eyes when the elevator opens again, so at first I think it’s a cruel trick of the light when I see the brown-haired man standing before me wearing a gray wool coat. A flash of red is gripped in a fist at his side.
“Henri.” The way he says my name, like he never thought he’d get to say it again, clears up any doubt.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, hesitant to get my hopes up for nothing even as my heart keens at the sight of him. My eyesdance across the freckles on his slender nose, up to his shaggy hair, consuming all I can of him while I still have a chance to. Those final moments at the airport weren’t nearly enough.
“You left your hat.” He holds up the hand that’s clutching it like a lifeline.
“I did.” This isn’t real. He came back for me. No one does that. But this is Liam, defying my every expectation and shattering my reality in the best ways.
He shakes his head. “And I let you go, when I shouldn’t have.”
