Page 20 of Miles & Mistletoe

Silence fell between us as she rested her head against my shoulder. My arms continued to hold firmly to her waist, keeping her on my lap. She kept feeding me crackers and fruit, and I continued to accept, because as she had astutely observed I hadn’t eaten much during dinner. My body was used to me running on sparse meals whenever I got consumed with business. However, when I did stop to eat I would realize how hungry I truly was. Stacia must’ve sensed it even before I had.

“Is it true? The story you told me about your ex-friend and how you lost your eye?”

I stopped chewing mid-bite of the cracker I’d been eating. I suddenly remembered sharing my story with Stacia. I continued chewing and swallowed.

“Yes.”

“And the part about what your father said afterwards?”

“Every word was the truth.”

“But you don’t believe that, right? What he said about friends. Do you have any friends? Are you close with anyone?”

“What he’s taught me has proven truthful more than once. Why would I not believe it?” I stated firmly.

“Because it’s not true. Who do you spend time with besides colleagues and business associates?”

“You,” I answered, nuzzling my face into her neck again.

“Before meeting me.”

“Myself.”

She sighed, sounding defeated, but I should’ve known better.

“He was wrong.”

“What about you? You have close friends? Where were they on Thanksgiving, or now, leaving you free to take all of these extra hours for work?”

There was a long pause, as if I’d struck a nerve. Unfortunately, that feeling of victory I often felt when successfully hitting the nerve of a business rival didn’t overcome me. Instead, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach formed. The idea of Stacia feeling lonely didn’t set well with me.

“I travel so much for work, I rarely have time to see friends from back home. I’m friendly with a few co-workers. We sometimes go on vacations together.”

I nodded, something in my chest rumbling at the sadness in her tone. I already knew she wasn’t particularly close with her family.

“But you aren’t especially close with any of them?”

Another long pause.

“No, I guess not.”

I contemplated that for a while.

“Most people are full of shit anyway.”

Stacia turned to me, frowning.

I shrugged. “It’s the truth. Everyone walks around with some sort of façade.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone,” I stated solemnly.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“I know it is. Even you.”

Her eyes widened. “Me?”

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