“Exactly. I wasn’t worth the time and effort for her to remainmy friend, so why should I put myself through the emotional wringerof having a friendship breakup?”
Because that’swhat it was: a breakup. People talk about breakups in terms ofromantic relationships, but rarely about friendship breakups. Ifthat friend is a big part of your life, you have hopes and dreamsand plans for the future, the same way you do in a romanticrelationship. So even when the breakup is for the best—a person istoxic or you’re growing apart or want different things fromlife—the end of that relationship and that era in your life causesheartache and grief.
Cole lays his handover mine where it rests on the table. I turn my hand andintertwine our fingers, nearly melting at the understanding smilehe gives me.
“I’mnot a complete sad sack,” I tell him. “I made some new friends thisyear, including someone I met the same day you and Idid.”
Cole lets out alaugh that’s a mixture of surprise and delight. “You’rekidding.”
“It wasmy lucky day, apparently.” I let the words hang between us for amoment. Cole’s fingers tighten around mine as his smile inches up.“Remember how I was going to the gallery down the street from thediner? Well, I met the manager and we struck up a conversation,then kept gravitating toward each other the rest of the evening.Before I left, we exchanged numbers, and she called me the next dayto invite me to lunch with her friends, who are now alsomyfriends.”
“That’sincredible. People rarely talk about how difficult it can be tomake friends as an adult, especially if you’re not really one toput yourself out there.”
“Exactly! I love my work friends to bits, but we don’t hang outmuch outside of work. I never minded because I had Mindy, and shewas all I felt I needed.” Saying the words leaves a sour taste inmy mouth. Sometimes I’m completely fine and have myself convincedI’m over the hurt and anger and disappointment. Other times—nowmore fleeting than before, thankfully— sadness washes over me whenI think of her. I never let myself dwell on it for long, though.And I’mdefinitelynot going to dwell on it tonight.
“Noneof your new friends wanted to come to Niagara Falls?” Cole asks,drawing me from my thoughts and reminding me to live in this momentand savor my time with him.
“Theyactually did,” I say, laughing when his eyebrows wing up. “Theythought it would make a fun girls’ trip, but I told them it wassomething I wanted to do on my own and we’d plan a few trips fornext year. Even though I love my new friends and I’m grateful tohave found them, I’ve also made it a point to learn to be by myselfand enjoy my own company. I depended too much on Mindy, and neverlearned to do things on my own. Now I take myself on solo datesregularly. Dinner, shopping, the movies…”
“Niagara Falls.”
I chuckle. “Yes,Niagara Falls. There have been a few moments when I’ve wished I’dlet them come with me, but it’s been nice to decompress on my ownand evaluate this past year while planning for nextyear.”
Cole leans in,covering our joined hands with his free one. “Is it weird to sayI’m proud of you?”
I mirror his bodylanguage, inching closer to him. His cologne fills my senses andmakes me want to close the small distance between us entirely tobury my face in his neck. “Not weird; I appreciate it. I’m proud ofmyself too.”
Coleshifts closer to me, his eyes dropping to my lips before meetingmine again. I hold my breath, expecting him to kiss me. He leansin, but his face veers to the side and his lips brush against mycheek, lingering for a moment before pulling back. He picks up hisbeer, watching me over the rim of his glass as he takes a drink.“Should we…” His words trail off as his gaze darts over myshoulder, his eyes widening comically. “Nowthat’ssomething you don’t see everyday.”
The music that’sbeen playing at medium volume suddenly swells. As I turn to seewhat Cole is staring at, I recognize the tune as “Viva Las Vegas”by Elvis. I let out a little snort of surprise and amusement that’smercifully drowned out by the music. Climbing onto a small stageacross the room is a man wearing a spangled red jumpsuit with aSanta hat set at a jaunty angle atop his blackpompadour.
“Isthat…” I say.
“Santa?Or Elvis? Santa Elvis?”
When the manreaches the microphone and turns to the crowd, my eyes widenfurther. Santa Elvis bears a striking resemblance to a young ElvisPresley. A hush falls over the room as he greets the small crowd,glancing around with a dazzling smile.
With my back stillto Cole, I can feel the heat of his body as he leans in close andwhispers, “I was going to suggest we leave, but I don’t think wecan now. I’m too curious.”
“Agreed,” I whisper back, my eyes glued to the man on stage,who’s now flirting with a pair of young women who have moved closerto the stage.
Cole taps myshoulder and I swivel to look at him. “Why don’t you move yourchair next to mine so you don’t have to sit at such an awkwardangle?”
I stand and heslides my chair beside his, leaving a mere inch or two of spacebetween our seats. He slings one arm over the back of the chair andmotions for me to sit. His arm drops around my shoulders the minutemy butt hits the chair, and I take that as my cue to snuggleagainst him.
Santa Elvis hasapparently finished his flirtation because he saunters back to thecenter of the stage. He swings his hips and strikes a pose as thepeppy opening notes of “Santa Bring My Baby Back to Me” ring outthrough the bar. When he grabs the microphone and starts singing, adelighted laugh spills from my lips; not only does he look likeElvis, he sounds like him too. The short song transitions into“Santa Claus is Back in Town”, during which Santa Elvis strutsaround the stage, swinging his Santa hat by its fluffy whitebauble.
“Thisis so wonderfully, unexpectedly weird,” Cole says, and I laugh inagreement. He nuzzles my neck, his warm breath tickling my ear ashe adds, “Kind of like us finding each other tonight.”
“That’sone of the reasons I love this time of year,” I say, my head tiltedin his direction, but my eyes glued to the stage. “It feels likeanything can happen. Run into the guy you spent a few hours with ayear ago and have thought of a million times since? Sure, why not?Choose a random bar for a drink and end up being serenaded by a guywho’s the spitting image of Elvis Presley? No big deal, just alittle Christmas magic.”
Cole doesn’trespond, so I peek at him from the corner of my eye. When I seehe’s watching me with a soft smile, I face him fully, loving howhis smile grows as our eyes meet. Something unspoken passes betweenus. This time when he leans in, his lips land on mine. I barelyhave time to react before he straightens in his seat, the smilereturning to his face as his arm tightens around myshoulders.
We give SantaElvis our full attention after that. He sings a few more songs,including a personal favorite of mine, “Blue Christmas”. I take afew pictures on my phone because this is a moment that needs to beshared, especially with my mom, who’s a lifelong Elvis fan. After amoment’s hesitation, I turn the camera to selfie mode. Cole ducksdown so we’re cheek to cheek, and I snap a few pictures of us withour matching grins. I regretted not getting a picture of him lastyear, and I have a feeling I’ll look at these photos often as areminder of this magical night.
Santa Elvis’s setlasts no more than thirty minutes, and he leaves the stage to arousing round of applause and cheers. I was so wrapped up in theman on stage, along with the one beside me, I hadn’t noticed howthe bar had filled with people. Every table is now occupied, plusall the seats at the bar are full, and people are milling around inclusters. It feels like someone suddenly turned up the volume inthe bar as music resumes playing from hidden speakers and voicesrise to be heard.
“Readyto go?” Cole asks.
