Page 8 of Merry Little Mishap

I had all these people around me, but the only one I wanted was the girl next door who was alone for Christmas.

What the hell was that about?

Why wasn’t someone by her side at all times? Holding her. Celebrating with her. Kissing her under mistletoe and drinking coquito.

Why couldn’t that be me?

I already knew why…

“Nick!” Tiffany shouted over the phone.

“Yes! I’ll pick up food for the kids…”

“Great! Oh, god… Hank’s here, I have to go. Bring wine. LOTS of wine!”

Tiffany hung up, but Mrs. Caporali still had her granddaughter on the phone.

“Well?” she asked.

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling so she wouldn’t see.

“Mrs. Caporali…”

“Call me Beatrice. I’m practically your future grandmother-in-law.”

I took a deep breath and smiled.Very nicely.

“Beatrice… I’m sorry, but I have dinner plans tonight. And for the record, I like a woman who’s short, tan, has dark curly hair and bright brown, beautiful eyes…”

Mrs. Caporali—Beatrice—rested her elbow on the ladder, her candy cane stuck back into her mouth like a cigar.

I could tell she was contemplating.

“Well, hell. You should just date that cute lil’ Puerto Rican girl next door!”

Just then, from the other side of Beatrice’s bathroom wall, the sound of shower water sputtered into life—Elena’s shower specifically.

This building was so old, so thin with ancient bricks, that every audible creaky pipe could be heard with ease. I plastered my eyes right onto the wall, knowing only feet away Elena was naked.

First, I felt like some pervert, unable to stop myself from imagining Elena Ortiz covered in slippery wet suds. She was so fucking beautiful.

Second, I felt like a total asshole, because the truth was, I could’ve fixed her sink weeks ago.

What the hell was I even doing?

I knew it was wrong, but I needed any excuse to keep seeing her again—to be around her—to hear her accent, to drink her coffee and, god… to smell that peach, pineapple spray she wore anytime she answered the door.

She was a thousand miles away from any family, and damn it, a pathetic part of me wanted to give her even the tiniest slice of what she might’ve been missing back in Puerto Rico.

Truth was, I wanted to break the pattern of holiday chaos. I wanted a new tradition. I wanted Elena…

Could the same be true for her?

Don’t be stupid, Nick. Think of Tiffany and Hank.

I cringed.

If it was one thing I knew, it was that falling for someone you worked around would never end well.

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