Page 92 of Jingle Belle's Biker

“I think,” he says after a long silence, “I should go. I never meant to hurt you. And you were the last thing I expected. I didn’t sign to break laws. And, fuck, I’ll see you on the twenty-fourth, I guess. Be careful, read carefully.”

With that, he turns and starts to leave.

“Saint?”

He stops. “Belle?”

I’m an idiot. I know that. But I pick up one of the cookie boxes and go to him. “I made these for you.”

He takes the box and leaves.

I want to cry, But I don’t. Instead, I drink my whiskey and finish my cookie. Why on earth would he tell me to read carefully?

My lease isn’t something I pull out often. Esther was old school and her lease was paper. But the updated ones that Lance insisted on doing last time, where he changed over rent due dates, that’s electronic. So, I go to the living room pull out the original, and the electronic one and start to read.

When I wake in the morning for work, I’m still not sure why he mentioned it and I still hurt inside. Worse today. Not because of the whiskey. That’s still mostly in the glass I first poured.

Ready for work, I race down the stairs, trying not to think of Saint. A forlorn meowing makes me stop.

Nomad sits outside the door, looking up.

My heart sinks, and I turn on my sensible shoes and scoop Nomad up. Saint is gone. Or at least, he went out and isn’t back from the night before.

Which is something I don’t want to think about. I settle Nomad in at my place and feed him before I head to school.

I don’t see Saint the next day or the day after that.

Even though I’m bleeding inside, I tell myself I don’t care.

Hannah slides a glass of wine over to me at Finally’s and leans in. “Babe, smile.”

“I hate being told to smile.”

“There are men here. It’s almost Christmas, you can pick up some lonely Christmas meat.”

“Ewww.” But I laugh.

She snaps her fingers. “Just kidding. Never go home with lonely, desperate Christmas men. Unless?—”

“We don’t mention Saint’s name.”

“You just did.”

“You know what I mean.”

She sighs. “Have you seen him?”

“No. Nomad’s moved in for now, but he meows outside the door and some days he comes back late, sauntering in, warm, like he just got dropped off.”

Hannah sips her wine, and a guy approaches. She doesn’t look. “No. And go away. Please.”

The guy turns beet red and continues past us.

“You know,” she says, “it’s cute.”

“The guy?”

“The fact you and your biker separated but he still drops the kid off.”

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