Page 96 of Pity Present

“Ah,Pretty Woman,” she says dreamily before telling me, “You can’t call them hookers anymore. They’re sex workers now.”

“How is that any classier?” I want to know.

“I don’t think it’s a matter of class. More an accurate description of the job they perform.”

“Fine. If things can work out between asex workerand a billionaire, then there must be hope for me.”

“You might not even have to wait until the New Year,” Ellen says mysteriously.

Kicking off my loafers, I curl up on my couch in front of my beautiful Christmas tree. “I’m not going to go on a date before then,” I tell her. “Plus, New Years is less than two weeks away.”

“Just keep an open mind, Molls,” my sister says. “Remember what I told you before I left.”

“Christmas is a time for miracles,” I repeat. “Which was the message on the roses that I received.”

“Truly?” She sounds surprised, so maybe they weren’t from her.

“Truly,” I tell her. “And you know what, maybe it is. Maybe there’s a miracle with my name on it. I’m just not quite ready to get my hopes up. This has been a tough week.”

“The good thing about fish,” Ellen says, “is the sea is full of them. Maybe Blake isn’t your guy, but there’s definitely someone out there who is.”

I hope she’s right. “I think Henry’syourguy, Ellen. He loves you, his kids love you; you need to trust that love.”

She’s quiet for several moments before saying, “Maybe. I guess that’s what we’re going to spend the next few days figuring out.”

After hanging up with Ellen, I go into the kitchen and put away the groceries I just bought. Then I pop open the bottle of champagne I picked up on a whim and carry it back to the couch.

Sitting down, I raise my glass toward the tree and toast, “To Christmas miracles!” Not that I think I’ll get one this year, but I think it’s a solid possibility for next year.

Kyle may have taught me not to trust easily, but I’ve also learned that I can’t let him ruin future encounters for me. If Ellen can come back from her tough road—which was honestly much worse than mine—then surely, I can put on my big girl panties and get on with things.

I continue to toast in front of my Christmas tree all thesentiments I hope will come true in the coming year. I toast, “To Ben! May his clinical trial kick cancer’s butt so he can live a long and happy life!” I toast to Ellen and Henry. Then I add my parents and various friends to the list. I finish off with one that I almost can’t say out loud.

In the barest of whispers, I say, “To Blake. Thank you for helping me to figure out it was time to move on.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

BLAKE

I have always loved Christmas Eve. In my family, it’s a bigger deal than Christmas day, which means my parents are not thrilled that my first one home won’t be spent with them.

My phone rings while I’m sitting at my dining room table wrapping Christmas gifts. I look at the screen and see it’s my mom. She’s probably calling to yell at me, which is why I decide not to answer it. But once it goes to voicemail, she calls again. I’m pretty sure this could go on all day, so I finally pick up. “Mom, hi!” I try to sound happy to hear from her.

“I can’t believe you’re missing Christmas Eve dinner to go to a basketball game.”

“That’s my job, Mom. I didn’t schedule the game.” I may have misled my parents into thinking I was working tonight, which is the only excuse they would have accepted.

“I know, I know. But I’m still not pleased.”

“Are you guys planning on watching the game?” I ask.

“If your sister and dad want to. You know basketball isn’t my thing.” My mom’sthing,as she calls it, is baseball, and she wouldmiss anything, including Christmas Eve, if the Cubs played this time of year.

“I’ll be over bright and early tomorrow morning,” I promise.

“I thought you were coming tonight after the game.” She sounds disappointed.

And while I could probably make it over there tonight, I hope things go so well with Molly that we’ll be busy making memories of our own. I made us a reservation at a fancy steak house not far from the United Center where the Bulls play. The foods editor at work needed to cancel her reservation and I was lucky enough to be standing nearby to overhear this. I begged her to let me take it over. I may have also promised to return the favor with tickets to a future sporting event of her choice.

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