Page 10 of Back Home For Christmas

“What don’t you get?” I asked, although I just wanted to stay in my little holiday romcom bubble where everything can be solved with a smart little quip.

“Why it is romantic for her to bet on her current relationship to fail,” he said.

“That isn’t what she is doing,” I said.

“It definitely is,” he said. Serendipity was about two people trying to buy the same pair of gloves when they felt a connection, but she was already in a relationship, so she wrote her number and stuck it in a random book, with the understanding that if he ever found it, then they were fated to be together. “She is in a relationship and gives her number to another guy.”

“Not exactly.”

“All holiday romances are the same,” he said. “What was that one you used to watch on repeat?”

“The Holiday?”

“Yes, that one. So dumb to think that two women would uproot their lives for men.”

“If it was the right man, they would. If it was early 2000s Jude Law they would,” I said. “How do you know anything about holiday romcoms, anyway? Are you a secret romcom fan?”

“You were always watching them,” he said. I turned to look at him. It was true, for about a year there, they were my whole personality. But how the hell did he know that I was always watching them?

“They are probably the best love stories ever told.”

“I didn’t take you for a love story type of girl.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” I said, feeling annoyed that he had encroached on this rare peaceful moment in which my brain wasn’t sabotaging my own happiness. He was, in fact, very wrong about me not being a love story type girl. Before I became so jaded by myself and life, I used to love old love stories. I was a total sucker for a happy ending, or grouchy guy turned sap like in Pride and Prejudice or opposites attract like Ten Things I Hate about You. But the one I related to most was the self-sufficient but deeply insecure woman, learning how to let someone in like Breakfast at Tiffany’s—problematic racist portrayals aside. When I dwelled on it, I got sad that my life wasn’t more like the sappy movies. But I also didn’t want or need a man to save me. I just needed to pick myself up and get my shit done. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“No.” I couldn’t tell if he was too dense to take the hint or purposefully ignoring it. Either way, my foot itched to kick him right in the ass.

“You know, some people have told me that I look like Jude Law,” he said, arching an eyebrow in my direction. He felt like a child acting out for attention.

“Only with more muscles,” I said before clamping my hand over my mouth, my cheeks burning with warmth. Why would I say something like that? Now he will think I am staring at his muscles. And while sometimes I simply can’t help it, the last thing I wanted was for him to know about it. He had a giant ego already. “I do not look at your muscles.”

“I get it. They are hard not to admire,” he said as he flexed his biceps and brought it up to his lips. Gross. What an asshole, I thought, letting my foot move down the couch and nudge the side of his hip. “Ow.”

“What are you two doing?” Darren’s voice came from the front door right before the gust of cold wind hit me.

“Close the door!” Darren swung his hand behind him with such force that the door slammed shut with a reverberating thud. “You okay?”

“What’s going on with the booth?” He asked.

“Nothing.”

“It’s not done.”

“We have another two days,” I said. “What is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” he said, forming his lips into a tight, thin line. I lifted my eyebrows with skepticism.

Chapter Ten

I took Darren’s entrance as my cue to leave. I didn’t need to spend any more time with Jay than was absolutely necessary, and I didn’t need him shitting on my romcoms. I found myself upstairs, staring at my computer screen to no avail, before giving up and going to bed.

The next morning, I slept in to avoid seeing anyone. It was nice having the house to myself. I took a long shower, drank my coffee at the island and generally enjoyed my own company. I shared my apartment at school with two other girls, and although we each had our own tiny rooms, we were always on top of each other. Being alone was a novelty.

Eventually, I couldn’t put off going to the booth any longer. I bundled up and headed out, only to find Jay already there. As soon as I saw him, I turned on my heels and walked into the shop, determined to ignore him. As soon as the door closed behind me, it opened again as Jay stepped through.

I let out a quiet sound of disapproval before walking the shop for inspiration. It wasn’t a large shop, but still big enough that if Jay wanted to leave me alone, he could. Instead, he seemed to be in every aisle right behind me. I headed to the supply closet that housed old merchandise and decorations. An idea had started to develop, and I wanted to see what kind of stuff we had.

“Can you please stop following me? I don’t think it is fair that you are breathing down my neck as I am gathering things for my display. Wouldn’t want you copying!”

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