Page 1 of Christmas Replay
One
Alissa Lawson
“Last Christmas, I gave you my heart. But the very next day—”
“Not today, Taylor,” I huffed as I slammed my hand over the power button on the radio to shut off Taylor Swift.
“Hey!” Charlotte complained over the din of the patrons inMidnight Java. “I love that song.”
“Alissa can’t bear that one,” Julia said from the register. “It reminds her of Heathcliff and makes her sad.”
“Don’t call him that,” I snapped, rolling my eyes. “That’s not his name.”
“What am I missing?” Charlotte asked, walking over to join us at the counter. “This sounds like a story.”
“It’s not,” I insisted. “There’s no story.”
“Bullshit,” Julia said, her grin widening as she turned to Charlotte. “You didn’t start until March, so you didn’t witness the fallout. But last Christmas, Alissa was working alone, and Heathcliff—”
“His name is Cliff,” I interrupted.
“Whatever,” Julia continued, waving aside my protest. “So,Cliffcomes in at closing and sweeps our boss off her feet. She spent five minutes with the guy, and she was head over heels. He was all she could talk about for weeks.”
“That’s an exaggeration,” I muttered.
It definitely wasn’t what happened. Not quite. It was close enough for Charlotte, I supposed. I could almost see little heart emojis glowing in her eyes as she listened to Julia tell the romantic nature of the story.
To be honest, itwaskind of romantic. That night. Then…nothing. Just lonely real life. A year later, I’d thought I was over the whole thing—until the Christmas season got into full swing. Then it all came rushing back.
That night, a year ago, at a few minutes to eight, the door ofMidnight Javaopened, accompanied by the cheerful tinkling of the overhead bell. I looked up in time to see the most handsome man I’d ever seen walked inside.
I set aside the broom I’d been using, and headed to the register.
“Are you open?” he asked, meeting me at the counter.
“Just barely,” I admitted. “I was just about to lock up, but the machines are still on. What can I get you?”
“Just a coffee would be great,” he said. “I wasn’t sure anything would be open.”
“We’re probably the only place that still is,” I told him as I prepared his order. “I try to stay open a little later for travelers.”
“Well, I appreciate it,” he told me. “This is a cute place.”
“Thank you.” I smiled as I handed him his cup. “I opened it about a year ago, and I’ve worked really hard on building it.”
“Oh, it’s yours?” he asked, seeming impressed as he glanced around again.
“Guilty.”
“It’s nice. Cozy.” He lifted the cup. “How much do I owe you?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I insisted. “It would have been dumped out, anyway. Can I get you anything else?”
“I don’t suppose you have any food? Which, of course, I would insist on paying for.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I let the inventory run down, so it wouldn’t go bad over the holiday. Once I lock up tonight, we’ll be closed through New Year’s Day.” I bit my lip then smiled. “You know what? I have a sandwich I forgot to eat earlier.”
“I couldn’t take your own food.” He shook his head.
