Page 8 of Hello Dr. Christmas

“Yup. And tiny-dick David has ruined my career and won. And he can make fun of me forever, and keep telling everyone that I can’t have orgasms.”

“What?” Eve says, as Mike arrives at our table.

He clears his throat. “I didn’t hear anything. Can I get you ladies another round?”

“I’ll have a Santa-gria,” I tell him, “and a Jingle Juice.”

“I will have the Sugar Cookie-tini,” Eve says. “I’m just in love with these martinis tonight.”

“You should try the Gettin’ Blitzen,” Mike suggests. “It’s really good.”

“Sure, I’ll have that too,” Eve says with a nod.

Mike turns to leave, but then he turns back slowly. “Hey, uh, Frost sisters? This is a lot of booze. Is everything okay with you ladies?”

“Not really,” Eve says. “I’ve given up on love, and I’m going to become an old maid with eight cats. And Clara here just lost her career, so she’s probably going to become a janitor. And after a few more cocktails, I might even convince her to hook up with the janitor.”

“Janitor John?” Mike asks. “Nah, he’s got a long distance girlfriend. They’re getting really serious.”

“Dammit,” I curse. “That was my only prospect. See?” I say to Eve. “All the good ones are taken.”

“Barkeep! Hurry it up with those drinks,” Eve commands. “These wretched wenches be thirsty.”

Mike sighs. “I need a vacation from this town. As soon as the New Year arrives, I’m heading off somewhere sandy and sunny, maybe on a cruise.”

We giggle softly to ourselves as he walks away.

Reaching out and putting my hand on Eve’s, I smile. “I’m really glad you’re my sister. You’re the coolest person I know.”

“You’re just happy that I’m also miserable, so we can be miserable together,” Eve teases.

“No way. I’m ready to join you in cat lady heaven. We can grow old and live together forever, maybe get fourteen cats,” I suggest to her.

“Let’s get twenty cats, and open a cat café, right here in town,” Eve suggests. “We’ll be the famous Snowflake Creek cat lady sisters. Everyone will be jealous of our cats.”

“That’s perfect,” I tell her, nodding solemnly. “Screw ballet! I have found my new career.”

And for a moment, as we laugh and sip our holiday drinks, I don’t feel like it’s the end of the world. Because I have Eve, and she has me, and that’s pretty great. Maybe that’s all I need.

I’ve lost Eve.

The holidays passed by quickly, and although my ankle continues to hurt, but I manage to get around on the crutches quite well. Mary and Sven are still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, so we don’t see much of them, but Eve and I hang out nonstop, drinking and chatting and rekindling our bond as sisters.

Until Christmas Eve, when we are all out on the town shopping. I am separated from Eve for just a few minutes to grab a present for her, and when I return, I see her standing with a dark-haired man. He is grabbing her shoulders, and I panic for a moment. I run forward, thinking that she is being attacked—until I recognize his picture from the papers.

Adam Wintergreen.

I move closer, just to hear what he is saying to her. And when I do, I can’t decide whether I want to roll my eyes or cry.

“I fell for you pretty hard and fast, Eve. Like, way harder than my plane fell. I know it seemed crazy and soon, to say all the things I said to you, and I totally get why you would think I was just being a jerk and faking—”

“I didn’t think you were faking,” Eve is saying softly.

“But I meant it,” Adam tells her. “I meant every word. Of everything. Will you forgive me?”

“Of course, you idiot,” she says, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him soundly.

It is then I realize that I am not the only person who has been spying on them. Half the town has gathered around us to witness the romantic scene. Mary and Sven are nearby. Everyone has begun clapping and cheering. It is pretty great. My big sister is going to live happily ever after.

So, I put my hands together and clap, too. I clap and smile. I’m happy for her. Really, I am! Reaching up, I feel a tear sliding down my cheek. I lift my hand to wipe it away. This is a happy tear. I swear.

This tear has nothing to do with the fact that my cat café dreams have been ruined forever. Or the fact that I have no idea what I’m going to do with myself, or with my life, without Eve. I guess we’re not going to be the famous cat lady Frost sisters. I’m just going to be that single, crazy cat lady who lives under a bridge. Maybe with a lot of pigeons on me, and pigeon poop—like that lady in Home Alone 2.

Adam and Eve are whispering sweet nothings to each other, and I move a little closer so I can hear the voice of the man who is stealing my sister away.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he is saying to her softly. “I’ve been wishing for you on every birthday cake, every 11:11, and every shooting star for my whole damn life. When I saw you, I just knew. But every day I spent around you, I knew even more. You think you’ve gotten lucky, but I’m the one who really lucked out. All I want for Christmas, Eve, is you.”

Oh, fuck this! He sounds like a storybook hero. He sounds like the same Prince Charming that the newspapers described. Who the hell is that perfect? No one is that perfect! I turn on my heel and walk away, stomping back to The Drunken Elf, by myself. When I sit down at the bar, wiping tears away from my eyes, I must admit to myself that I want to believe it.

If there is any guy on this planet who is really as perfect as Adam Wintergreen seems to be, then I’m glad that my sister found him. And I’m glad that he found her. That is really lucky, if you think about it. With seven billion people on the planet, what are the chances that two wonderful people could meet each other and fall in love, the way Adam and Eve did?

It’s ridiculous. It’s improbable. It’s impossible. And insanely romantic.

When Mike comes over to take my order, I wipe away my tears hastily.

“Clara Frost,” he says with a grin. “What can I get you to cheer you up?”

“A Dirty Snowman,” I tell him, sniffling. “Actually, Mike, make that three Dirty Snowmen.”

“Extra dirty?” he asks.

“And extra snowy,” I tell him with a nod.

“Damn. So it’s been one of those days,” he says, as he begins to mix my drinks. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Do I ever want to talk about it?” I grumble.

“Nope. You are a woman of few words,” he says as he slides the first Dirty Snowman over to me.

“And a woman with horrible luck,” I say, as I toss the first Dirty Snowman down my throat. It is going to take a lot of these to make me feel better tonight.

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