Page 28 of Christmas With My Ex

1:28 pm

I leanagainst the door for a moment, my heart still pounding, trying to catch my breath. Nicholas straightens his shirt, avoiding my eyes. Neither of us says anything as the silence stretches on, thick and awkward, hanging between us like a fog.

He clears his throat, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll, uh... I’ll head out first. Meet you at the table?”

I nod, unable to find words. What would I even say?

Nicholas opens the door a crack, glancing out to make sure no one’s around before stepping back into the hallway. I wait, listening to the fading sound of his footsteps as he makes his way back to the bar.

Once he’s gone, I move toward the sink, splashing cold water on my face. The cool droplets hit my skin, bringing me back to reality. I stare at myself in the mirror, my reflection somewhat haggard. I'm flushed, but feeling alive. What just happened?

I press my hands against the sink edges, the porcelain cold under my palms. I lean forward, willing the chaos in my head to settle. We just hooked up in a bar bathroom. On Christmas Eve. In the middle of the afternoon.

I splash more water on my face, trying to shake the overwhelming mix of feelings swirling around in me. This isn’t what I planned. I didn’t come here looking for... this. For him. But I'm not mad about it, either.

“What the hell are you doing?” I whisper to myself, staring at my the girl in the mirror, as if the answer will magically appear.

Because, really, whatamI doing? Nicholas and I haven’t been together in years, and we broke up for a very legitimate reason. This whole trip feels like a rollercoaster I didn’t sign up for, and him being here at the same time is almost a twist that almost seems like fate.

But as much as I want to analyze it to death, to figure out what it all means, I can’t. I try to fight it but some force stronger than my will keeps throwing us together. And making our moments together amazing.

That can’t be a coincidence, right? Should I even try to figure this out?

Not now.

It’s Christmas, for Christ’s sake.

I let out a breath, standing up straighter, shaking off the confusion. Okay, I tell myself. It’s fine. We’re both adults, and honestly, this has been fun. More fun than I’ve had in a long time.

Suddenly, I feel my Mom’s presence strongly. As if she’s sending me a message that I need to loosen me up. You are so right, Mother. Perhaps this whole thing is just what I needed.

That’s all it is. Maybe that’s all it needs to be. I don’t have to make heads or tails of it all today. I can just enjoy the moment for once, without overthinking it, without worrying about what happens when we leave this little snowy fairytale we’re stuck in.

I glance at my reflection one last time, pulling myself together. I certainly don’t want to spend my time here spiraling in my head, trying to make sense of things that don’t need clarification right now. I’ll deal with it all later, after Wednesday.

For today, I’m going to stop expecting so much of myself. Everything doesn't have to fit in a perfect little box.

I grab a paper towel and dry my face. Whatever happens next, we're going to have a fun day together. We aren't making any kind of commitments beyond the moment.

As I leave the bathroom and head back toward the bar, I take a deep breath. The lights twinkle in the saloon, the sounds of Christmas music blending with the murmur of conversation, and for the first time in a long while, I feel... lighter.

1:35pm

I walk backto the table, my heart still racing from the bathroom, but I’ve managed to calm myself down. I'm a little nervous how to react to him after what we just did. This is a first for me.

Nicholas is sitting there, looking as dashing as ever, like we didn’t just... well, like nothing happened.

His light brown hair catches the dim bar light, making it almost look golden. He’s leaning back in his chair, a casual confidence in his posture that screams he’s in control.

His shirt fits snugly across his broad shoulders and chest, hinting at the muscles underneath that are more sculpted by action than intention. His chiseled jawline clenches slightly as he takes a sip of his beer, those striking brown eyes scanning the room with an intensity that always drew me in.

I watch him from afar for a moment, trying to reconcile the man sitting there with the Nicholas I once knew. He’s always had this smoldering passion beneath his serious exterior, something that ignites whenever he’s focused or deeply involved in something—or someone.

Today, that intensity is aimed at me.

The way he moves, even something as simple as lifting his glass or adjusting in his seat, has a certain grace and power to it. His presence is commanding. It’s impossible not to notice him.

I notice women at nearby tables glance over occasionally, some more brazenly than others. I see their eyes linger on him just a bit too long, and a small part of me feels smug knowing he’s here with me.

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