Page 1 of Hello Dr. Christmas

Prologue

For a moment, when I wake up, I am confused about where I am. There’s a really ornate ceiling above me, decorated with golden leaves and little angels holding trumpets. I stare at it in confusion. Then I notice that a man’s arm is draped across me. And my legs are draped over his. We are tangled up together, and it’s incredibly warm and comfortable. My eyes grow wide.

Who is this man, and where are our clothes?

Looking around, I study our surroundings. It’s a hotel room. A really nice hotel room. I slowly begin to remember. Last night, I was feeling reckless and lonely. I had a little too much spiced wine, and one too many Dirty Snowmen at The Drunken Elf, before meeting the extremely handsome stranger who is now lying in bed beside me. Then we came back here.

I am scared to move much, because I feel so good and relaxed. I don’t want to wake him. I don’t want this perfect, peaceful moment to come to an abrupt end. I think I’ll just lie here for a minute, and enjoy the feeling of not being alone for once. But my curiosity causes me to peer around. There is only one hotel in town, and this is the nicest room. The presidential suite. He must be pretty wealthy to afford this.

He was also so sweet and kind. Gentle and compassionate.

I remember that he was a caring, giving lover, and it was a wonderful night. I haven’t been with anyone in a really long time, and I couldn’t have asked for a better experience.

I don’t even know his name. I wish I could ask, but I don’t want to get attached right before I inevitably lose him. I can’t handle any more disappointment after the past few days. This man seems really well-put-together. His clothes are so nice, and his briefcase. He even smells good—like cinnamon and leather. Better than the mulled wine. He’s the sort of man I would have loved to go on a real date with, or spend some quality time with. Get to know slowly over romantic dinners—go on long walks together while perfect, fluffy snowflakes fall all around us.

But I can’t even walk anymore.

I’m a disaster. I’m injured and pathetic. I’m damaged goods.

A few days ago, I was a prima ballerina. Now, I’m jobless and broken.

There is no way that a man like this—handsome, successful, and kind—would be interested in a basketcase like me. Not in my current state. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same again.

But it was a beautiful fantasy, while it lasted.

Gazing at his face one last time, I try to memorize his features. His eyes are closed, but I remember how blue they were last night. Even in the darkness of night, they were so bright. Placing a small kiss on the man’s chiseled cheek, I carefully slide out of the bed without disturbing him. Then I grab my dress, and pull it on, before collecting my crutches and my purse.

I look around for my panties, but I can’t seem to find them.

But when I see the stranger stirring awake in bed, I decide to give up and sneak away. I carefully move to the door, as noiselessly as a mouse, using my crutches as skillfully as only a dancer could.

I sneak out of the room quickly, and prepare for an embarrassing walk of shame, home to my family that will surely ask questions about where I’ve been all night—if they even notice that I was gone. Sighing, I think back at how I ended up in this mess.

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