Chapter One
CARTER
Ishut my laptop and scan my desk for a third time, making sure I have everything. I’ve cleared my inbox and set my out-of-office automatic reply. There are two weeks until Christmas, and I’m off until the new year, but being head of IT means I’ll be tethered to my phone if any problems arise.
A knock sounds on my office door. My boss, Ralph, stands in the doorway. One might think from his candy cane tie that he’s a jolly, festive guy, until they catch his bushy eyebrows drawn into a crease at the bridge of his nose and the sour way his lips turn down.
“Heading out?” he asks, as if he doesn’t notice my closed laptop, which I’m about to place in my bag.
“Yes. Gotta catch my flight.” I walk to the hook on my wall and grab my wool coat.
Ralph’s frown deepens as though I didn’t clear the fact that I’m taking this afternoon off months ago. “Just checking in about the Warwick account. With you being out of the office for so long, is it in good hands?”
I slip my arms through my coat. “Darnel and Yvonne have it under control. I’ve brought them up to speed, and I’ll have my laptop with me to check in regularly. You’ll barely know I’m notdown the hall.” My attempt at humor doesn’t loosen the tension radiating from Ralph.
“I still don’t understand why anyone needs to take so much time off just for a wedding,” he grumbles.
I suck in a deep breath, wrap my scarf around my neck, and slip on my gloves. “That’s the good thing about vacation time. One can use it however they want.”
I’m not trying to be an asshole, and I sure as shit can’t get fired, but this is about the tenth conversation I’ve had with Ralph on this topic. As if I need to explain how I want to use my vacation time.
Just to be sure I don’t lose my job this holiday season, I soften my response once more. “I’m going early to help them get everything together before the big day. It’s a destination wedding, and they haven’t been able to prep in advance because of their schedules. Besides, they’re my two best friends, and I want to spend some time with them.”
He grunts, apparently still not understanding. I assume he doesn’t have anyone close enough in his life that he’d be asked to do something like this because the man is a workaholic.
Doug, Steph, and I were inseparable throughout college. Freshman year, Doug and I roomed together, and Steph lived on the girls’ floor below. After one late night studying in the common area, we all became quick friends. We did almost everything together. During college, Doug and Steph were just friends, but after we graduated, they both moved to Los Angeles. Their friendship turned into something more, and romance bloomed. When I first found out, it felt weird to be a third wheel around them, but in the years since, I came to see how much they meant to each other.
A tightness squeezes around my chest as I bring my bag over my head to rest the strap on my shoulder. “Happy holidays, Ralph. I’ll see you next year.”
Once again, my half attempt at humor spurs no laughter, but he does make his usual grunting sound like a farewell as I leave my office.
Three minutes and an elevator ride later, I step out onto the busy Manhattan sidewalk. I weave in and out between the pedestrians bundled up to weather the cold, past the holiday-decorated storefronts.
New York doesn’t hit the way it once did.
I remember my first Christmas in Manhattan after moving from Oregon. I was awestruck by the way the city transformed into a holiday paradise. Every store window displayed a Christmas theme, and every department store played Christmas carols. Holiday markets were set up every few blocks with niche, interesting shops. The tree at Rockefeller Center stood tall and proud, lights glistening in the cold, dark night. Everything felt so magical.
And it’s all still there. There’s not one inch of New York that isn’t dressed in some holiday garb, but the glisten has worn off a bit. Everything feels a little more tarnished now.
It’s not the city though. It’s me.
Lately, my entire life feels… blah. I go to work, come home, relax, and go to bed. Rinse and repeat. The things that used to bring me pleasure—going out with my friends, climbing the corporate ladder at work, playing in my dart league—no longer does it for me.
The melancholy feeling crept in early in the year after Faith and I broke up. At first, I thought it was just a funk over the end of our relationship, which would have been the first time I’d ever felt that way about a break-up, but it was the only explanation.
Then the feeling persisted, and after a while, it became clear to me that it had nothing to do with Faith. Sure, I’d liked her, and we got along well, but I certainly wasn’t heartbroken when we broke up. We didn’t want the same things. Things likecommitment and kids. So, we went our separate ways—end of story.
That discontented feeling of my life hasn’t waned, despite my efforts to push it away. The fact is—something in my life needs to change.
Back in my apartment, I zip my suitcase closed, then check my watch to make sure I’m running on time. The car I ordered should arrive any minute now.
When Doug and Steph told me they were having their destination wedding in Vermont, I didn’t get it. It’s an interesting choice, but Steph’s twin sister, Ashley, owns a bed-and-breakfast there. I guess when Steph visited her sister last year, she fell in love with the small town and insisted to Doug that they get married there.
Which is all fine and good, except Ashley and I didn’t exactly part on the best of terms the last time I saw her. And that’s putting it mildly.
Thank God I’m not staying at her bed-and-breakfast.
Chapter Two
