Page 17 of Christmas in July

CHAPTER 9

LEILANI

When I wake up, Teddy is gone. I have no idea what time it is, but I feel so good and well-rested, like I just got the best sleep of my life. I'm not sure whether I would blame it on the presidential mattress, or the man with a presidential name. Snuggling with him felt so perfect, even though I fell asleep in my clothes, without brushing my teeth. It feels like the best morning I've had in years. If it is morning.

As I get up and walk to the balcony of the bedroom, which also leads onto a whole rooftop terrace, I breathe in the fresh air and look at the festivities of the little town below.

The hotel is the tallest building in town, and looks to be quite old, with European architecture. I have a spectacular view of the snowblowers covering everything with adorable fake snow. I place my hands wide apart on the balcony, and lean forward, letting the gentle breeze ruffle my sundress. I feel like I could be in Paris or Milan, not Minnesota.

I also notice the location of the sun in the sky.

Okay, so it's not morning. I slept well into the afternoon. Who knows what time it is, and who cares. I feel amazing. The only way I could feel any better is if—well that would involve my sister's eggplant emojis. I giggle to myself softly, as the wind tosses around my dress and hair—and blows up gusts of the fake snow on the street below, making children squeal with laughter.

What a magical little town.

Getting on that plane may have been the best decision I've ever made in my life. Imagine if I had picked another destination? A later or earlier flight? I wouldn't have met Teddy... and I wouldn't have gotten to ride in a Lamborghini, and sleep in the presidential suite. But the scariest part is imagining how easy it would have been to avoid meeting that amazing man.

I mean, we were both headed here—even if I had picked a different flight, would we have met a few days later, at some event in town? Maybe, maybe not. Would we have even spoken if we did meet? Maybe the fates did have a hand in arranging things. Maybe some god or goddess on Mount Olympus or Mauna Kea was looking out for me after all. And maybe they sent him down from the heavens, just for me—hand-picked perfection.

Anyway, I'm getting carried away again. Getting ahead of myself. Just because I find him insanely attractive, and think he's the best thing since sliced bread, doesn't mean that he feels the same. He could just want a little fling. Or nothing at all. He could be gay, and just want a best friend, or a beard. I have no indication that this could be a real thing.

I haven't even asked him the questions.

When the doorbell to my suite rings, I walk to the door with excitement, expecting to see Teddy. Instead, it's an elderly man, dressed like... a butler. Because we have a butler now. I forgot.

"Good afternoon, Miss Leilani. Master Theodore sent this gift for Mademoiselle," he says, holding out a package and bowing from the waist.

"Thank you so much," I say, accepting the gift awkwardly. Mademoiselle? Hmmm—I like it! When the butler leaves, I rush back into the room to open the gift, and find myself gasping out loud.

I pull out a Versace black dress, and I'm glad that no one is around to see my jaw drop on the floor. It's the most beautiful dress I've ever touched. I hug it against me, feeling like it's literally Christmas. I honestly don't think I've been so overwhelmed with a gift in my entire adult life. My heart is beating fast as my fingers trace the fine fabric.

But there's more. I dig into the package and retrieve a tan colored shoe box with some unmistakable red lettering. I pull out a pair of silver Louboutins. I stare at them in awe, flipping them over to see the iconic red bottoms.

How did he even know my shoe size? Well, I guess he looked at my shoes. But I was just wearing a pair of beat-up old flip-flops on the plane! Last, but not least, there's a Balenciaga handbag, but I am already too overwhelmed with hugging the dress and the shoes in adoration. I need more arms.

A man doesn't get a woman gifts like this unless he likes her a little bit, right? Oh my god, I sure do hope he likes me a little bit. I hope he’s not just gay, with a passion for shopping. I try to take several, deep, calming breaths. Then I notice a note that was resting in the shoe box.

Hey little lady,

Put this sexy outfit on… we’re going out for more tacos! Kidding.

I have a big surprise planned tonight, and I wanted to take you out on a proper date, complete with new threads, courtesy of Henrietta's credit card.

I'm out taking photographs of the town for the magazine, but I'll be back soon.

7pm. Be ready.

At sunset we ride or die.

Teddy

P.S. We can also have more tacos if you want.

I readover the adorable note several times. Each time, my smile growing bigger and bigger. The little girl in me can't resist trying on the shoes, first of all, and I find myself squealing in delight like those five-year-old kids running around in the fake snow outside. Does life get much better than this? Presidential suite and shoes worthy of a first lady? Come on. This can't be real. What the heck did I do to deserve this?

Andthatman. That super handsome, kind, funny, sweet, caring, adorable-as-hell in his glasses, and a safe driver even when he's behind the wheel of a Lamborghini, wonderful man! Could he really, actually like me?

I fan myself lightly as my shoulders and neck begin to overheat.

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