Page 9 of A Not So Merry Ex-Mas

I don’t know how to approach this version of Noelle. She’s closed off and nearly unapproachable.

It’s what I deserve for how I treated her at Mel and Mike’s wedding.

My breath catches the moment I see Noelle walk into the room. She looks radiant in a powder blue dress that hugs her in all the right places. For the first time since my career ending injury, my heart feels light. The smile that sweeps across my face is one I haven’t worn in a long time.

For the first time in years, she is standing within reach, and I know with complete certainty that I won’t let her push me away...again.

A smile lights her face when she meets my gaze, and my heart races. Just as I begin walking toward her, I see him.

I see his hand on her waist, his mouth on her cheek, and I feel my heart drop to my stomach like a rock. Next thing I know, my jaw is clenched so hard I’m pretty sure my teeth are going to crack. My hands are balled into fists. I want to rip his hands from her body.

The sparkle in Noelle’s eyes dims, and the jealousy I feel immediately becomes rage at myself for letting things turn out this way.

My professional baseball career is over, I have no clue what my future holds and my father is telling me what a failure I am. As if I had somehow wanted to intentionally end my career with a fluke injury to my pitching elbow.

Despite all of that, I still had hope. Hope that somehow, Noelle and I could make things right again. That we could reclaim the life we were meant to have together before her gran got sick.

This wedding was supposed to be a new beginning for us, but here she is withhim.

As I watch the remainder of the light in Noelle’s eyes fade, I feel an all-consuming shame. Iturn and walk away. I need to calm down for Mike and Mel. If only that were the worst of it.

The crackle of a burning log snaps me back to the present moment.

I watch the flames flicker across the wood and feel a familiar ache. I refuse to mess this up again. That means there is only one thing for me to do—call in the big guns.

I slide my phone out of my pocket and dial Mel.

“You know that Mike’s number has the 3 andnotthe 4, right?” She teases.

Michael and Melanie Matthews, or the M&Ms as I like to call them, decided to get matching phone numbers, or as close as possible, after they married. But since you can’t get matching numbers, they’re off by a single digit. Mel makes sure to tease me about it any time I call her.

“Yes, I know.” I roll my eyes. Now that I’ve called her, I’m not so sure how to broach this topic.

“How is everything going?” She asks in an overly happy voice.

“As if you didn’t know,” I toss back at her, sarcasmlacing my tone. Then, more seriously. “I need your help.”

I hear her gasp on the other end of the phone, but when she doesn’t say anything, I continue talking.

“I don’t know what magic you worked to get Noelle to joke with you, but I need some of it.”

“Really?” I can feel her excitement through the phone. “Mike told me I wasn’t allowed to meddle, but you calling and asking for help isn’t me meddling, right?”

A chuckle escapes me as I shake my head. I can see Mike lecturing Mel about getting involved. A smile breaks free, and I laugh because she rarely listens.

“Nope. Me asking for help is not you meddling. And if it is, I won’t be the one to tell him.”

“Yes!” She shouts. “Honestly, though, it’s more of the ‘she’s been my best friend since we were twelve’ type of magic. I just know her. Plus, she hasn’t been angry at me for the last six years.”

“Touché.” I rub my eyes with my fingers, trying to relieve some of the tension. “Her being mad is a good thing, right?”

“It’s something.” She laughs, and I let out a huff. “But seriously, Cole. You just need to be patient and give it time. Getting divorced and moving back has taken a toll on her. She won’t admit it, but it’s been rough.”

“I know. I’m just afraid I will mess it up and I can’t do that.” My voice sounds weak even to my ears.

“You’re right, you can’t,” Mel says firmly. “Tell me what you need.”

I head back intothe kitchen, and yes, to the refrigerator, but this time with a renewed sense of purpose. AndnowI’m hungry.

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