Page 58 of Texting My Secret Santa

I have to type the message several times because my hand is shaking.

Derek:This is the part when you ask me what I want.

I feel sick. I grab the waste bin and put it nearby, just in case.

Me:You don’t have any leverage.

Derek:Sure, I don’t, Holly. That was sarcastic, by the way. You need to admit that I’ve only ever tried to be nice to you. I’ve only been friendly. I’m a decent person. I’ve complimented you, taking an interest in your work and hobbies. How have you repaid me? The Mr. Nice Guy crap is over, and you’ve only got yourself to blame. I want to see you. No clothes. You know the drill.

I grab the waste bin and stare down at the crumpled paper at the bottom for a few moments as I fight the urge to vomit.

Is this freak serious?

Is this his warped idea of a Christmas gift?

Derek:Send me the photo.

Me:I’m not sending anything. I’m not having digital evidence of anything like that out there. I can’t trust that you won’t post it somewhere.

Derek:Then prepare for this to be your big bro’s worst Christmas ever.

I try to think quickly, but panic floods me and makes me sluggish.

I push through the fog, step by step.

Me:I don’t want digital evidence, but I have a Polaroid camera. I won’t let you keep the photo, but if you’re determined to see me, I’ll take a picture and meet you in person.

Derek:Do it now.

Me:I can’t, Derek. I’ve got meetings and responsibilities. Please. Give me until tomorrow morning.

Derek:Don’t even think about tricking me. All I’ve ever wanted is to be kind to you. I’ve had a tough life, Holly. My mother was a sick, abusive woman, but she always told me that one day, I’d find a girl who was better than her and would make everything okay. As soon as I saw you, I knew I’d found my one.

Oh, no. He’s even more unhinged than I thought.

Derek:You’re my one, he texts.Tomorrow, at the Christmas tree. Eight a.m. We’ll have the wonderful meeting we should have had this morning.

I shiver. Jeez. This is bad. He’s always been too forward and insistent. Now, he’s stepped it up a notch or several? I’ve bought myself some time, but I’m unsure what to do. I need to get that phone from him.

I’ve pushed away the one person I could, maybe should, ask for help—Asher.

Perhaps I can talk to him and explain I want to work together on this with zero romantic feelings and nothing that will make my skin sizzle, my heart soar, and my resolve shake like Christmas gifts bouncing around in the back of Santa’s sleigh.

For now, I get on with the important task of chewing the hell out of my fingernails.

By the time Asher and Dan return from their date, I’m still no closer to an answer.

Snatch Derek’s phone?

If he doesn’t bring the phone, could I lure him back to his place and search for it? That would mean putting myself in the vulnerable position of being close to him in a confined, private place. That’s the last thing I want.

I turn to say hello to my brother and ex-lover, but only Asher is standing there.

“Where’s Dan?” I ask.

A pang of jealousy strikes me. Asher is wearing a dapper suit that would have any woman salivating. “His half of the double date went better than mine … not that I wanted it to go well.” He sits on the couch. “What have you been up to, Snow …” He trails off before completing my nickname. He’s trying to be good.

"Oh, nothing much,”I want to say.“Just sitting here thinking about the fact I’m being blackmailed by a jerk who could ruin our lives.”

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