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I was a lucky man.
I knew that.
I just wished I had someone to share with them, too.
Chapter Two
Claudia
“Merry fucking Christmas to me,” I sighed, shoving my dinner into the microwave. After pulling a double shift at the hospital, all I wanted was to eat and climb into bed for the next three days.
I was fucking bone tired.
Yes, that was a real thing.
Instead of spending time with my family this holiday, I did what I always did. I worked. Funny thing... that’s all I seemed to do lately. While everyone around me was finding their one, starting a family, and just plain living, I was stuck in a rut of work, eat, sleep, repeat.
Same shit, just a different day, and it was taking a toll.
Sitting at my small kitchen table, I watched the microwave dinner slowly turn while I wondered if this was all I would ever have.
Not that I was complaining. I had it better than most people.
I was smart. I owned my home. I made good money, and I had friends. But that wasn’t enough.
I wanted more.
I wanted the dream.
That special someone who loved me, wanted me, was there to greet me when I came home. Someone to hold me as I fell asleep at night. But no one wanted a workaholic. An on-call doctor who would leave everything at the drop of a hat to save a life.
Sometimes being a doctor sucked.
Hearing the ding, I moaned. I slowly got up from the table and trudged over to the microwave. Taking my dinner out, I grimaced at the sight before me and muttered, “That looks nothing like the picture on the box.”
Not hungry anymore, I left the slimy pile of uneatable goo on the counter and plopped my ass on the couch. Laying my head back, I closed my eyes and sighed.
Everywhere around me, families were waking up with their loved ones as they laughed, opened presents, and ate merrily. Kids were running around excitedly hugging their parents, eager to show them what Santa brought them. Moms were busy in the kitchen, happily preparing a wonderful meal that would feed her family. Dads corralled the kids while monitoring the television. They watched whatever sports program they could find. Grandparents smiled warmly, making mental pictures of their loved ones to recall when they returned home.
That’s what I wanted.
I wanted it all.
Instead, I had a small two-bedroom house, an uneaten microwave dinner, and a job that was sucking the life out of me. At this rate, by the time I found the energy to have my dream, my body would be ready for decomposition. Hell, I could already feel my eggs withering up and dying as time ticked away.
To make matters worse, in six days, I was turning thirty-four.
Thirty-four!
I was practically knocking on forty!
It wouldn’t be long before I needed a damn walker to get around. And then what? Adopt a fucking cat from the shelter and become the cranky old woman everyone feared?
“Fuck that,” I groaned.
I wasn’t that old, yet.
I still had my looks. I wasn’t a dog. I could hold my own. My boobs were still perky. Well, they were if I wore my wonder-bra. Last I checked, my ass wasn’t sagging yet. And so what if I had the beginning stages of crows-feet or my laugh lines were a bit more distinctive?
