“Thehighlights.” I take another sip of my drink. “Okay. Well. After theChristmas holidays, I went back to my regular job as an assistantcoordinator at the Village. I was torn about what to do; I loved myjob, but wanted somethingmore, you know? I decided to be honestand tell my boss where my head was at when I went in for aperformance review in the spring.
“He’s aphilanthropist who not only owns Bellevue Village, but also does aton of work around town with various groups and charities. He toldme he’d been working with the local family support center and wasplanning to open a second branch within the Village. The new centeropened last month and, long story short, Hugh pulled some stringsand I’ll be starting a new job there the first week ofJanuary.”
“That’sfantastic, Sylvie,” Cole says. “I’m assuming it’s the type of thingyou were hoping for or you wouldn’t have taken it.”
“It’sexactlywhat I was hoping for,” I tell him, my voice growing moreanimated by the second. “I’ll be working with families and, becauseof my background with my previous job, I get to help organizeactivities and events—everything from parent/baby classes totoddler tumbling classes to special events for tweens andteens.”
“Thatsounds incredible. I’m so happy for you.” He reaches across thetable to grip my hand. “And you said you donned your elf gear againthis season?”
“Idid,” I say with a laugh. “It’s too much fun not to. I’m going tosee if I can somehow manage it part-time next Christmastoo.”
“Imight have to make a return trip to Bellevue Village if that’s thecase,” he says, leaning closer.
Mycheeks heat with pleasure from the combination of his proximity andthe hint of promise in his tone. “What about you? Are you stillworking forThe Buzz?”
Cole studies me,his lips twitching slightly at the corners. After a moment, heeases back in his seat and nods. “I am, yeah. At the beginning ofthe year, I put out feelers for something different, but nothingwas coming up. I realized I was lucky to be doing something in mychosen field, even if it wasn’t what I thought I’d be doing, so Ireally dove into the assignments they gave me. It paid off becausethis past summer they offered me a promotion. I get to choose a lotof my own assignments now, and I’ve been traveling all over theprovince.”
“Congratulations! That’s so great, Cole.” I toast him with myglass and he inclines his head in my direction. “Does that meanyou’re away from Toronto a lot?”
“Quitea bit, yeah. I don’t know if I’ll want to keep this up long term,but I figured now’s the time to do it while I’m unattached anddon’t have someone waiting at home for me, you know?”
“Right,makes sense.”
Silence descendsas we both sip our drinks. I thought maybe us running into eachother again was a sign we were meant to pursue our connection. Butwe still live in different cities, and Cole is away from home alot, which would add an extra layer of complication to a buddingrelationship. Still, an undeniable thrill zipped through me when Iheard he’s still single.
“I’vethought about contacting you so many times,” he says. “I even foundyou on Facebook awhile back, but closed the app before I could sendyou a message.”
Now I’m the onewho leans across the table, my voice low as I admit, “I did thesame thing.” We both chuckle. I don’t add that I still pull up hispage about once a month and contemplate messaging him.
“Italked myself out of it for a million reasons,” he says. “I toldmyself we only spent a few hours together last year and youprobably forgot about me immediately and would think it was creepyI’d tracked you down. Then I told myself there was no way theconnection I felt was one-sided, but it would be unfair to open thedoor and start something when I could only give you bits and piecesof myself.”
“I getthat,” I say. “I hate it, but I get it.”
He sucks in abreath and lets it out slowly. “I can give you all of myselftonight, though.”
The words seem tohang in the air between us, thick with layers of meaning. Whetherhe means hanging out here in this bar for the rest of the eveningor something more, I’ll take it. I can deal with the inevitableheartache later. “I can give you all of myself tonighttoo.”
He smiles anddrains the rest of his cocktail, shuddering slightly as he sets theglass on the table. “I think this calls for another round. Wouldyou like the same thing or do you want to try somethingdifferent?”
I tell him I’llstick to my sugary Christmas cocktail, and watch him head for thebar. He chats with the bartender as he orders and pays for ourdrinks. He keeps talking even after the bartender places twoglasses in front of him. The bartender glances over Cole’s shoulderat me and nods along to whatever he’s saying before accepting thecash Cole slides across the bar.
He returns to thetable, setting another bright red cocktail in front of me, alongwith a beer for himself. I don’t have a chance to ask what theexchange with the bartender was about before he says, “Did you eversort things out with your friend?” I must look taken aback by thesudden question because he adds, “Sorry, but we don't have muchtime together and I have a million things I want to say and askfloating around in my head. That was the first thing that poppedout.”
“It’sokay. I appreciate that you even remember.”
“Iremember everything from that day, Sylvie.Everything.”
The earnestness ofhis words paired with the intensity of his gaze makes heat creepinto my cheeks. It’s reassuring—and somewhat thrilling—to know thatday last December meant as much to him as it did to me. “I do too,”I tell him before taking a big gulp of my drink. “As for myfriend…we continued to drift apart until there was nothing left.Her new friends and her new life took priority, and I decided Iwasn’t interested in settling for the crumbs of her attention andaffection anymore.”
“Sowhat happened?”
I blow out abreath, shaking my head. “Basically, our contact petered out untilthere was nothing. Part of me knew I should confront her, tell herhow I felt, see if we could salvage our friendship, but the otherpart of me figured if she didn’t even notice or care we’d driftedapart, what was the point? I was sure if I tried to talk to herabout it, she’d get defensive and probably even angry—she’s neverbeen one to take responsibility or accept the blame for anything—soI thought why bother? Let it end with a whimper instead of a bang.At least then I wouldn’t have the memories of a huge blowout to addto all the other hurt.”
“I’m sosorry, Sylvie. I had something similar happen with a friend fromcollege, and it sucked. Wedidhave a big blowout, and there are times even allthese years later when I wish I’d just let things fizzle out ontheir own.”
“Sometimes I feel like a coward for not confronting her,” Itell him. “Like our years of friendship deserved more than herwalking away and me letting her.”
“Youdidn’tlether,though, not really. You kept making an effort, right? Sometimes youget to a point where it’s too exhausting and painful to be in aone-sided relationship, and it’s easier—and healthier—to letgo.”
