Page 141 of The Holiday Hate-Off
A voice in my head suggests,Maybe Lucy would be willing to move here or try long-distance.
But how could I be in a long-distance relationship if I’m chained to my desk?
Then there’s my grandmother to consider. I could hire someone to help her out since I’d be making bank, but there’s a very good chance she wouldn’t even allow them onto her porch, let alone into her house, and besides…
She’s getting older. She told me herself that she’s not sure how much time she has left. If I leave, I’ll miss it.
“I’ll take the twenty-four hours,” I say.
He gives me a disapproving look but nods sharply. “Be sure to get an answer to me first thing tomorrow morning.”
I can’t help myself: “That wouldn’t be a full twenty-fourhours, Martin.” It’s already late afternoon—I’ve spent the whole day here, talking with half a dozen different people, and I feel drained in a way I haven’t in weeks.
Invigorated too. I can’t deny that a part of me feels drawn to this opportunity. To the ability to shape things and make them my own. To be the man behind the curtain, like I always wanted to be when I was a kid, able to shape destiny rather than to be shaped by it.
He surprises me by laughing. “That’s what I like about you, Enzo. No BS. All right. Tomorrow at 3 p.m. I’ll be expecting your answer.”
“And you’ll have it,” I say, shaking his hand again.
I leave the building and walk through the streets of Midtown, taking in the bustle. The smell. The busyness of everyone making their way somewhere, their bubbles barely brushing.
A part of me is drawn to the anonymity. No one here would care enough about my relationship with Lucy to gossip about it. It sure as fuck wouldn’t make the paper.
In Hideaway Harbor, every local’s life is subject to scrutiny, not just people like Amanda and Brody, who are interesting to the rest of the world too. (After the reading, Lucy insisted on googling Brody and learned he’s apparently up for some huge movie role.)
Here, I can just be.
But I’d be alone.
Lucy won’t want to live in New York. If she did agree to make the move, she’d lose the home she’s longed for. The family.
I wouldn’t ask her to make that sacrifice.
So if I take this job, I’ll almost certainly lose Lucy.
Lucy, with her stubborn pride, her brilliant ideas, and her biting sense of humor.
Lucy, who cuts me down to the quick when I need it.
Lucy, who’s waiting for me to call.
Lucy, who doesn’t know about the holiday surprise I arranged for her.
And, just like that, I know I can’t do it. I don’t want to. I don’t want to lose her, and to my surprise, I also don’t want to lose the home she’s been reintroducing me to. I’ve become closer to Giovanni and Nico over the last month. My grandmother too. And even though everything is moving in the right direction for Hidden Italy, I’d meant to see them through the transition—and also to convince Nonna that it wouldn’t be the end of the world for her to have some kind of companion around to help her at home.
I don’t need twenty-four hours to give Martin his answer. I’m ready to give it to him now.
Filled with determination, I whip around too fast and run into a man in a Santa suit. We both fall down, Santa tumbling onto his butt.
“That man hit Santa,” a little kid cries out, pointing at me.
“It’s okay,” Santa Suit says from the ground. “Nothing to see here, man. It’s all chill, chill, chill.”
He reeks of marijuana and liquor.
The little boy’s mother wraps an arm around his shoulders and hustles him away.
I frown, because we’re in a city of 8.5 million people, and someone hiredthisguy to be Santa? His brown eyes are bloodshot, and he looks like he hasn’t shaved in a week. Then again, who says anyone hired him? There’s no law against random people running around in Santa suits. If there were, half of Hideaway Harbor would be arrested.
