“Here, yes. Here…for me? I don’t know.”
“Ouch,” I chuckle, placing a hand over my wounded heart. “Even when you’re on the verge of tears, you’re still cold enough to give a man frostbite.”
When she doesn’t laugh at my quip, I figure something devastating must have happened. She turns to face the roaring fireplace, the crackle of the flames the only sound filling the space between us.
She swipes a tear from her cheek, still hugging herself when she finally speaks. “Christmas used to be my favorite holiday, ever since I was a little girl.” My heart squeezes at the softness of her voice. I lean forward so I can hear her more clearly.
“I was with him for nine and a half years. I lost myself to him, traded my identity to be a part of his future. Two Christmases ago, he decided taking everything from me wasn’t enough; he had to ruin my favorite holiday, too.”
My throat threatens to close. I feel like I shouldn’t be getting this angry for someone I barely know, but the fire in my veins is as fierce and protective as I’ve known it to become.
“Your ex?” Stupid question, but I’m hoping it’ll prompt her to continue letting out whatever’s twisting her up inside.
She nods stiffly. “Left me for another woman. Dumped me on Christmas Eve. Said we’d outgrown each other.” She scoffs, “Well, he certainly outgrew me. I was so blindsided I didn’t know what to do with myself. We built so much of our lives together and I still can’t put my finger on the moment he decided I didn’t fit in his heart anymore.”
I flex my fingers against my knee, resisting the urge to wrap her in a hug and remind her of how beautiful and sharp she is. A man willing to throw all that away after such commitment…when some people are so quick to leave — I swallow, fixing my attention on her and cutting the thought short.
“I had a really good day, I did,” she says, her voice watery. “I was scrolling, and an old mutual friend of ours reposted a post fromherwith a rock the size of my left eye on her finger.”
My heart feels like there’s a brick tied to it, pulling it down into an abyss I won’t be able to save it from.
“Guess who’s getting married!”She sings, turning to face me with tears streaking her perfect skin. Her smile is wide and wicked. I bite the urge to match it with my own.
She walks over to the larger couch and plops down; the sound of the cushions swallowing her whole is almost comical. Seeing her this way, with the glow of the fire blushing her skin, heartbroken and flushed from crying with a pouty mouth — I realize, she’s not quite the ice queen I made her out to be. She’s a snowflake.
She blinks up at me, mortified. “I didn’t mean to dump all that on you. I’m sorry. I promise I’m not still hung up on my ex or anything,” she rambles.
My eyebrows rise to meet my hairline at this unexpected and unnecessary apology.
“Like, it’s just…it’s fucking Christmas.” She frowns, kicking one knee over the other and folding her arms across her chest.
I don’t stop the smile from spreading across my face — can’t stop it.
She narrows her eyes at me. “What?”
I shake my head. “Nothing, just…I like you.”
Her cheeks go from flushed to full-on flooded. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.
I will never get to make another Christmas special for my son, and I can keep going on these trips to celebrate his short life, but meeting her on this specific Christmas feels like a reward for all the hurt and healing I’ve been through.
No, I can never make another Christmas special for Juno. But I can make this one special for her. I can help her remember that it was her favorite season for a reason, and that reason had nothing to do with her shortsighted ex.
“Thank you, by the way,” she says, her smooth mask of indifference sliding back into place.
“No need to thank me,” I smile at her.
She offers me a stiff nod, straightening her sweater as she walks back into the dining room. The clatter of utensils against porcelain lets me know that dinner has been served, and my stomach reminds me that it’s now touching my back.
I stand, putting pieces of a plan together for how I’m going to pull off melting Krystal’s frozen heart. As I join the rest ofthe group, my eyes seek her out in the crowded room. Nat King Cole blares from the speakers, and everyone is talking over each other, trying to match its volume.
I probably look like an idiot standing here with an empty plate in my hands, trying to spot her, when a deep, gruff voice startles me. Jiraiya stands next to me with two steaming plates. “She’s not here,” he says, blinking slowly at me.
I clear my throat. “Right.” I nod, turning to the buffet-style layout and piling the mouth-watering food onto my own. I love Christmas, always have, even though it represents a morbid truth for me now. But the rhythm stirring inside me at the thought of the upcoming eleven days isn’t lined with grief and regret. At the heart of its tempo is possibility.
Nick
Twilight already glitters on the horizon as we come to a stop somewhere downtown. Every street light is wrapped in garland, hazy lights winking at us as we step on to the sidewalk. Red velvet ribbons with sleigh bells in the center are secured on the base of each pole, and strings of lights hang from tree to tree. Even Krystal can’t hide the wonder behind her eyes as she takes it all in.
