I screw up my face in tears, “Dylan. Don’t do this.”
I sit at my desk and stare into space.
Life gives out hard lessons, the kind that break your heart.
I’m a broken mess, a shell of who I thought I was.
I think this is my saddest heartbreak because I know I’ve lost something really special.
It’s been five days since Wedding Armageddon and not a single word from Dylan.
He left me.
He left me because I lied, and I really can’t blame him.
And the joke of it is, as connected as we are, I don’t even know where he lives. With my number blocked, I can’t track him at all.
“You coming for Christmas drinks tonight?” Marla asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“Oh…. Umm, no I can’t. I’ve got something on. Sorry.”
“Well, I hope it’s fun.” She hugs me from behind. “I’ve never seen you so flat.”
I fake a smile, “I’m fine.”
I watch on as the office packs up their desks and one by one leave for the office drinks.
I stay seated.
Because if I go home then I’ll just cry, and damn it, Marla is right. I’ve never been so flat.
It’s Christmas Eve.
The twinkling fairy lights light my living room, the carols are on the television.
I wonder what Dylan is doing.
My heart constricts, I was just another person who let him down.
Being sad at Christmas is nothing new to him.
He’s used to it.
I’ve never been so regretful of anything in my entire life, and I just want my mom. I drag a chair over to my Christmas tree and get up and take down the Angel, and I sit back on the couch and stare at her for a long time.
Dylan’s words come back to me,When I was a little, I used to pray that the Christmas angel would come and save me, give me a family of my own.
I run my fingers over the Angel’s wings, “Send me a miracle Mom, tell me what to do.”
Dylan
I slowly pack up my things and make my way toward the door. I’ve lingered as long as I can in the office, it’s time to go home. Well, I’m not going straight home, I’m going to the gym, I’ll run for a few hours on the treadmill. The plan is to be too exhausted to notice that I’m having takeout for Christmas dinner. It worked last year; no doubt it will work this year too.
“Merry Christmas,” I smile to Rowena on the desk as I walk past her.
“Merry Christmas, Dylan.” She smiles warmly, “Big family celebration tonight for you, I guess.”
“Aha,” I lie, “and you?”
