Page 64 of Flirting with the Scrooge

Fifteen minutes later, I’m setting the scissors and comb on the counter. I run my hands over his now shorter beard and hair clippings float to the floor. “Step one, done.”

His eyes flutter open, but he never removes his hands. I uncap the shaving cream and squirt a dollop into my palm and smear it over. The razor scrapes across his face, leaving a wake of smooth skin behind. Over the next ten minutes, I shave, rinse, and repeat until his face is naked. When I’m done, I run a warm washcloth over his face, cleaning up any residual shaving cream and hair clippings.

I run my hands over the now smooth cheeks. “It feels so different. You look so different. Like ten years younger.” I bite my lower lip and tilt my head. “I don’t like it. Grow it back.”

He wraps his arms around my waist. His fingers brush along the curve of my butt as he tugs me closer. “I can’t just will it to grow back.” He laughs. “Want me to glue the clippings to my face?”

I brush my thumb over his smooth cheek. “Yes. Do that.” I smile down at him.

“Lucky for you, it grows back pretty fast. By tomorrow morning it will be a full beard again.”

After he helps me clean up the mess in the bathroom, we spend the rest of the evening sitting in the living room in front of the Christmas tree sharing stories and learning more about each other, even though it’s kind of pointless. Nonetheless I love this time with him and I will remember it always. I hope he feels the same way.

Finally, sometime after midnight, we both fall asleep on the living room floor.

* * *

I wake up to a set of lips on my temple. My eyelids flutter open and I’m met with Connor’s whiskey colored eyes.

“Morning.”

“Morning Tinsel. I have to get going. I have a few things to finish up and I need to get my truck to the delivery company before I take off. But I got you a Christmas present.” He sets a small, perfectly wrapped box next to me.

I sit up and tuck my hair behind my ear. “You got me a present? You didn’t have to do that. I didn’t get you anything.”

“It’s okay. You’re the perfect present.” He presses his lips to my temple.

I cup his cheek and guide his lips to meet mine. If I get one last kiss, I want it on my lips. He pulls away and rests his forehead on mine.

“I’ll call you when I get to LA. We’ll stay in touch. Call. Text. FaceTime. Carrier pigeon.”

I exhale a humorless laugh. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you even more.” He kisses me again.

It’s a kiss that says everything that we can’t say in words. He stands and I watch as he walks to the door. Then it softly closes behind him. I stare at the solid white door, waiting for him to come storming back through to tell me he isn’t leaving. But as the seconds tick to minutes, he isn’t coming back. I reach next to me, grab the small box, and set it on my lap. Sliding my finger under the taped flap, I break the seal. Slowly, I peel back the paper, careful not to rip it. Once it’s off, I pull off the lid. Inside is a cassette tape shaped USB drive. Written in the Sharpie isFor Tinsel: You’ll forever be a part of me.

I jump to my feet, pull out my laptop from my bag on the chair, and take a seat. I plug in the USB and double click the icon. The music player pops up and I hold my breath in anticipation.

The deep timbre of his voice fills the room. “This is for you.”

All of a sudden, a slow rhythm of a guitar starts playing. My heart thunders in my chest. I press my fingers to my lips. Then his deep voice floats through the speakers. Raw. Real. I can’t hold the tears back any longer. He wrote a song for me.

THIRTY-TWO

NAKED AND HOMELESS

Tatum

My eyes are still red and puffy as I sit at my parents’ house for Christmas.

Earlier this morning after Connor left, I laid on my living room floor and listened to the song on repeat for the next two hours. When Olivia called to ask me where I was, I reluctantly peeled myself off the floor and got ready.

Now I’m sitting at the counter with a glass of wine when I’d much prefer the entire bottle. Did I make a horrible decision by not going with him? Not begging him to stay? Sure, we can always talk on the phone, but it’s not the same. Our schedules will never align and eventually he’ll move on. Then all we will be is a memory. I swallow the last gulp of my wine as Olivia sits next to me.

“Who peed in your Louis Vuitton handbag?”

I tilt my head toward her, and she gives me a sheepish smile. I huff out a deep sigh. “Connor left this morning.”

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