Page 15 of All I Want for Christmas Eve

“No, never. My judgment in that sort of thing is stone-cold solid,” Adam declares. “I knew from the moment I saw you standing there in the snow, with your ridiculous fluffy nightgown, that you were something special. I could feel it in my bones.”

“Really? I was just too worried that a bunch of people in that plane had died, and concerned that you were critically injured,” I tell him. “But the way you’ve been hopping around on that sore leg all day, getting things done—I am starting to think you’re pretty special, too.”

“You should see me at full strength,” he says earnestly, raising his glass. “You won’t be disappointed.”

Dinner with Adam was hands-down one of the best dates I’ve ever had. Although I’m trying to play it cool and keep him from knowing that. I don’t want him to get a big head. But I definitely feel like I’m developing a major crush on my unexpected visitor.

We sat and kept chatting long after all the food was gone, polishing off the wine and having some of the snowmen cake pops for dessert.

“I’ll sleep in the armchair tonight,” Adam says, when he notices me yawning. “I noticed you have a special pillow for neck pain, and you probably need to use that.”

“Are you sure?” I ask him. “You’re the one who just crashed a vehicle and banged up your body.”

“I’m fine,” Adam says, waving his hand in dismissal. “I’m really strong, remember?”

“I hope so,” I tell him skeptically. “I wish I had something for you to change into, to sleep.”

“I actually grabbed a change of clothes when I went out to the plane,” he says, gesturing to a small suitcase in the corner. “I didn’t want to bore you by wearing the same thing all the time—and I won’t have to cook shirtless anymore.”

Darn. I don’t think I was complaining about that, was I? “How many trips did you make to the plane?” I ask him.

“Only one,” he explains. “I saw you had a sleigh in the garage, so I just loaded that up with as much as I could carry and pulled it back.”

“That’s smart. You’re resourceful.”

“I can be,” he says with a yawn.

“Okay,” I tell him, rising to my feet. I touch his shoulder lightly before moving to the bedroom. “Thank you for a wonderful dinner, Adam. It really was nice. I am going to call it a night.”

He takes my fingers in his, and presses a kiss on the back of my hand in an old-timey way. “The pleasure was all mine, Eve. Goodnight.”

Moving toward my room, and closing the door behind me, I smile a little as I get ready for bed. I even notice that I am humming to myself. I remove all traces of my makeup, and put on a new nightgown, which is a pale seafoam green color. I always feel so pretty and feminine wearing these. I know they aren’t exactly fashionable, but they just make me happy.

After finishing all my bedtime rituals, I plug my phone in to charge at my bedside table. Then I move to take off my bedroom light. But just as I do this, the light turns off without my permission. I stand there for a moment, staring at the light switch, hoping the light will turn back on.

I gingerly reach out to flip the switch on and off. It’s not working.

“Dammit,” I curse, trying not to panic as I open my bedroom door. Adam is already tucked into my armchair, and he is only visible by the pale moonlight reflecting off the snow outside. He is wearing an adorable pair of striped pajamas that make him look very fatherly.

“The power is gone,” I announce.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “I thought you said you had a few days remaining?”

“Well, maybe myemergency backupgenerator wasn’t built to handle someone using the oven to cook a fancy, full three-course meal.”

“I’m sorry,” Adam says. “I know that I wasn’t being conservative with the power. But I just felt really bad for everything—showing up here like this, imposing on you, ruining your sleep…”

“It’s fine,” I tell him with a sigh. “Maybe the storm will let up and the power will be back on soon. Can you just build a fire for heat in the meantime?”

“Sure,” he responds, rising to his feet. “Don’t worry, we will get through this.”

“We better,” I respond, with my hands on my hips.

Adam limps toward the fireplace, and he has trouble bending to put the logs in. I immediately feel guilty for making him do that.

He clears his throat. “By the way, Eve. I love the way that nightgown looks on you. Your red dress was stunning, but I think you are so beautiful like this. And I love the way you look without makeup.”

“Why is that?” I ask him, perfectly aware that there is no way I could look half as good as I did earlier. Men always say silly things like this that they probably don’t mean.

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