Page 26 of Christmas With My Ex

Her smile softens, and for a moment, I think she’s going to say no, but then she nods. “I could use a change of scenery. Let’s go grab a beer. Just no piggyback rides.”

“Deal,” I say, relieved and oddly excited. My mouth waters at the prospect of a cold beer.

The Last DollarSaloon

12:03pm

We push through the door,and a whoosh of warm air feels like it is sucking the door and us. The familiar scent of beer and wood mingling in the cozy atmosphere is a welcoming call.

Rives is laughing, her breathing still a little uneven from the walk—or more accurately, the stumble.

"Brrrr. It is ridiculously cold out there," she exclaims as she hobbles in.

"It's dropped a few degrees since yesterday for sure."

“Someone needs to lose their job if they consider those sidewalks clear,” she says, giving me a pointed look. “I've been all over the world skiing and I've never seen embankments of snow on both sides of the sidewalk like that. They have to be seven feet high in some spots. We must have really gotten a lot of snow last night.”

I grin, shaking the snow off my jacket. “You’re welcome for carrying you those last hundred yards, by the way.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips. “I didn’t need to be carried. You’re too damn stubborn to listen to me. But, thanks, anyway.”

“Uh-huh,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “You sure about that? Because the way you almost went down three times makes me think you do need the help.”

She lets out a soft groan, rubbing her arms like she’s trying to shake off the crutch-induced workout. “Okay, maybe. Who knew crutches were such an arm workout? I think my arms needed the break more than my knee.”

“I'm going to put forth that we both earned these beer, then,” I say, holding the door open as she hobbles inside.

"As a fellow medical professional, I’m not going to argue with you there."

The place is alive with laughter and conversation. Christmas music plays low in the background, but it's soothing rhythm is unmistakable, adding to the charm and vibrancy of the day.

It’s Christmas Eve, and the bar is packed with folks who either live here year round or, like us, are stranded in this winter wonderland. Lights twinkle from the rafters, wreaths hang on the walls, and the whole place has that laid-back holiday vibe.

Rives glances around before heading for the bar. “I think I’m going for that Face Down microbrew again,” she says.

I follow her to the counter, remembering yesterday’s confusion. “When you said that name yesterday, I had no idea what you were talking about. Thought you were trying to make a joke about your fall or telling me to beat it or something.”

She chuckles, her eyes bright with amusement. “I was saying all of the above. But, it’s also a great beer. The bartender told me it's called that in reference to face-planting in the snow after too much fun.”

I laugh, watching her as she orders. There’s something different about her today. Looser. More at ease. It’s intoxicating to see herlet go, and I can’t help but notice how much I’ve missed this. Missedher.

"Where do you want to sit?" I ask as we wait for our beers. "Bar again or do you want to grab a table?"

"Let's find a table by the window so we can people-watch," she says, grinning. You can't help but adore her and to be drawn in by her mischievous personality. She is so much fun when she is in her element. This is the Rives I remember.

We grab our glasses and find a small table near the window, the snow outside reflecting the glow of Christmas lights. The snowstorm might’ve calmed down, but it left behind a lot of snow. It’s still super cold, and everything looks like it’s wrapped in a blanket of white.

“So,” I say, taking a sip of my beer, “you planning on staying here in this tiny snow globe of a town forever? Or is this just a vacation thing?”

Rives looks up at me, her expression soft but guarded. “My flight out is supposed to be Wednesday. I guess it depends on what happens with the weather and if the roads open up. Have you heard if there are any more snow storms out there?”

There’s a hint of something in her voice, something that tells me she’s just as unsure as I am. Because as easy as this is—laughing, joking, falling back into something that feels almost familiar—I can’t help but wonder what happens when we go back to Knoxville. When the bubble bursts, and reality hits.

I take another sip of my beer, watching her over the rim of the glass.

There’s a part of me that wants to believe this could be more than just a holiday fling because we both happen to be in this remote place, alone. That maybe we’re not just two people acting on impulse, stuck in the same place at the same time.

But the doubts are there, lingering in the back of my mind.

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