Page 11 of Christmas With My Ex

“I'm the opposite, I like the craziness at work to off-set the routine and quiet in my life,” I say, smiling a little. “But I get it. Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to actually have a quiet, predictable day at the office.”

She tilts her head, her expression softening just a bit. “You? Slow down on the floor? I can’t picture it. You thrive in that environment”

I laugh. “Yeah, neither can I.”

The silence that follows isn’t as painful now. We’ve found a groove, something that feels quasi-normal. And as I glance at her again, I realize I don’t want this conversation to end. Not yet.

“You know,” I say, testing the waters, “if you’re not in a rush to leave, I was thinking… we’re both solo travelers here. What do you say we grab some dinner? I mean, we’re both alone, and it is the holidays, after all. Might as well make the most of it.”

She hesitates, and I can see the gears turning in her head. It’s not like we’re best friends picking up where we left off, but something about the idea seems to sit right with her.

“Dinner?” she repeats, looking at me like she’s still deciding if this is a good idea. “It’s still lunchtime in most cultures!”

“Okay, let’s call it lunner, then.”

She shrugs, a small smile tugging at her lips. Boom. I broke her down.

“Yeah, okay. Why not? I mean, it is always more fun to enjoy somewhere together, even if I do hate you a little bit.”

“Touché. I got you. Bringing the same sharp tongue, I like it.”

While I don't think she is being entirely untrue with that sentiment, her ability to address the elephant in the room is admirable. Hopefully her disdain for me doesn't quite reach the level of hate. Hey, she agreed to extend our time together, so she can't hate me that bad.

FIVE

Rives

Silver and gold, silver and gold / Everyone wishes for silver and gold.

The Butcher & The Baker

201 E Colorado Ave

3:09pm

Nicholas holdsthe door open for me, ever the gentleman. A blast of warmth hits my face as we step out of the cold.

I notice a glint under his sleeve as his arm stretches. Is that the watch I gave him all those years ago? Surely he doesn’t still wear the gift I gave him that one Christmas we were together.

A warmth swirls in my body, traveling from my toes to my head at the thought. No, it can’t be.

“You okay?” he asks, his brow furrowed with concern as he glances down at my crutches. “I’m worried about you being out here on those things in this weather. Shouldn't you be somewhere with your legs propped up?”

I wave him off, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. It’s not the first time I’ve dealt with a little snow. Maybe first time with crutches, but it can't be that different, right? I'm good, thank you for asking.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push it either. We’ve been walking through the snow-covered streets of Telluride, and it is pretty slick out there. I’ll give him that. But I refuse to let a bum knee ruin the trip. I had enough of a pity party earlier.

We’re seated at a small table by the window, and the view outside is nothing short of magical. The heavy snow drifts down from the darkening sky, coating the historic building fronts with a soft layer of white.

Garlands hang from every doorway, and twinkling Christmas lights wrap around street lamps, casting a warm glow that makes the whole street look like something from another time, like straight out of a Charles Dickens novel.

Nicholas, of course, notices my limp as I settle into my seat. He leans across the table, his voice low. “Honestly, maybe we should’ve just grabbed takeout. I don’t want you to make your injury worse. Didn’t you say the doctor told you to prop up your leg?”

I roll my eyes, shaking my head. “Relax, I’m fine. I need to move around a bit. Besides, I’m not about to spend this whole trip cooped up in an expensive hotel room. I can rest when I get back to Knoxville.”

He leans back, smiling a little. “Okay, but just take it easy. It’s not like you’re in a race.”

“Noted,” I say, keeping my tone light as I look out the window again. The snow keeps falling, almost eerie in its quiet beauty. It’s peaceful, the street nearly deserted except for the soft glow of Christmas lights reflecting off the snowbanks.

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