“It was a mistake,” I cried.
“You seem to be making an awful lot of those.” Matt gave me a cold smile.
I could barely make him out through the heavy snow.
“And Merrie,” he said, half-obscured by the storm, “you can consider the lease on your shop over. Come December twenty-fifth you need to be off my property. I will not be extending your lease.”
Then he was gone. The storm stopped.
One man picked up the elf trash can while several women chased the wreaths that were tumbling down Main Street.
“That was really weird, wasn’t it?” Brody said to me. I walked in a daze back to my shop.
“Go away,” I said to him.
“Come now, Merrie.”
“Get lost!” I shouted. The storm had pulled my hair loose, and it hung snarled around my face. I was covered in flour and half-frozen frosting, and I had just lost the love of my life.
“You can’t be serious,” Brody complained. “I’m your small-town fantasy! I’m your Mr. Hallmark. I’m your happily ever after.”
I bared my teeth at him and reached up, making a clawing gesture. “My Christmas tree is looking a little bare, so unless you want me to turn your balls into Christmas ornaments, get. Fucking. Lost.”
I made a snipping motion with my fingers.
Brody made a disgusted noise. “I could have given you a very nice Christmas package,” he said as he grabbed up his firewood and stormed off.
The townspeople were gaping at me, whispering.
So, this was it. This was my low point. I had it all then lost it.
I lost Matt.
The elf trash can, newly righted, started wailing “Silent Night.”
Fuck my life.
Fuck this holiday.
I threw my head back and screamed, “I hate Christmas!”
78
Matt
“You know what you need.”
“Go away,” I slurred.
Jonathan threw off the blanket that I had wrapped around me. My brother owned a liquor company and had kept me well marinated all evening while his girlfriend, Morticia, decorated the Wynter estate.
“You need some hard manual labor.” Jonathan dragged me off the couch by my feet. I grabbed onto a cushion.
“Morticia says her contract includes only stacking the firewood in an aesthetically pleasing pile, not actually chopping it, and obviously I wasn’t going to let her buy precut firewood from you-know-who.”
“Fucking Brody.” I crawled back onto the couch.
“Yeah, it’s pretty pathetic that you lost not one but two girlfriends to that man.”
