“I know, and I’m sorry. I just saw you outside of his place and lost it. My attitude toward you ends now.” She smiles and puts her hand on my shoulder. “Thanks again for not telling anyone about my past.”
As Sherry leaves the bathroom, I stay behind to gather my thoughts before leaving the office. It doesn’t feel good lying to her now that we have come to an understanding, but I’m not about to risk the one good thing I have going for me.
“So, how’d it go?” Dani yells from the kitchen as I enter the apartment. Christmas music is playing through the television, and Dani is wrist deep in cookie dough.
Today, as we normally do a few days before Christmas Eve, we are making cookies for ourselves and friends. It’s sort of our tradition we made up a few years ago, and had so much fun, we had to keep it going.
“It was…interesting,” I say as I begin to wash my hands to join her. I grab one of the bowls that is already filled with chocolate chip cookie dough and begin spooning it out on the cookie sheet. “We did come to an agreement that I’ll keep the news to myself if she lays off and leaves me alone.”
“But?” Dani finishes mixing her famous blueberry cheesecake cookie dough and begins washing off her hands in the sink.
“But, I felt bad at the end. She told me what actually happened, and yes, she went a little crazy, but she was a woman scorned by her first love. I get it. And she told me she was jealous that I got the job and she didn’t.”
I replace the finished cookies in the oven with the fresh tray of dough and set them on a cooling rack. “So she’s going to lay off, then?” Dani asks.
“I think so. She looked distraught that I found the article.”
The rest of the day is spent baking and singing along to the Christmas carols, and for the first time in days, I feel happy, I feel relaxed. Once all the cookies are cooked and cooled down, I package them up in different Christmas-themed containers.
“So, who are you sharing yours with?” Dani asks as she puts her containers off to the side of the counter.
Usually, I would bring them all to my family during our Christmas dinner, but I think I know of a sweet man who would enjoy them more. I smile at her with a knowing glance, and she rolls her eyes jokingly.
“You two love birds make me sick.” Dani grabs some flour from the open bag and tosses it at me playfully.
“Hey, you asked.”
While I don’t have a plan yet, I want to surprise him for the holidays. He’s been nothing but a fantastic friend and lover to me. He deserves a little gift.
20
JONATHAN
It’s just another day, I tell myself, though the lie tastes flat. I’m slouched on my leather couch, staring at the pile of contracts I hauled home like a good little workaholic. They sit untouched, spread across my coffee table like unwanted Christmas decorations.
I’d shut the office early, given everyone two full days off to spend with family, and for what? To sit here in silence, chewing on ghosts.
The holiday’s never been kind since my father passed. He and I used to spend it together, whiskey and terrible Christmas movies, our own private tradition. Now it’s just me, the quiet, and the temptation to polish off a bottle by myself.
The clock ticks too loud. The refrigerator hums like it’s mocking me.
I stand, restless, and pad to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Snow drifts thick and lazy past the glass, settling over Manhattan in a blanket of lights and bustle.
Families swarm Rockefeller Center, kids skating in clumsy circles, couples kissing under the tree. My forehead rests against the cold pane, and for one second, I consider staying like that until the new year. Frozen, undisturbed.
Then—knock, knock.
I jerk upright. My building isn’t exactly easy to get into. Either you’ve got a key, or my doorman clears you. I frown, stride to the door, and glance through the peephole. And my pulse spikes because it’s Lizzy.
She’s standing there in a long black coat that glints like wet ink, curls spilling wild around her face, heels that do unspeakable things to my imagination. In her hand: a red gift bag, glossy and oversized. I just wrench the door open.
“What are you doing here?” My voice comes out rougher than I intend, but I can’t stop the grin tugging at my mouth.
She smiles—soft, nervous, like she wasn’t sure I’d want her. “I’m sorry to drop in unannounced, but I… I brought you something.”
She steps inside, heels clicking against my hardwood. The quiet in my penthouse cracks like ice, replaced instantly by the scent of her perfume.
She sets the bag on my kitchen island, slips her coat from her shoulders in one smooth motion, and suddenly my apartment doesn’t feel like a tomb anymore.
