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“Absolutely.” Trying to seal the deal before the party here got more underway and Gabe wriggled out of our great idea, I pulled out my phone, clicking over to a dining app I mainly used for takeout delivery back in Virginia. But it was also handy for recs and reservations. “Done. Reservations for two at this little Italian place downtown with four-point-eight stars and lots of people calling it the most romantic place in Philly.”
“What do you know about romance?” Gabe gave a good-natured scoff before shaking his head. “Fine. You guys win.”
“Yay, more work for us.” Zeb gave a fake cheer.
“How about you worry about getting through tonight’s work? Here come the party guests.” Gabe pointed as the wide double doors that led to the entry foyer opened to admit a cluster of people. A chill wind followed them. The weather kept predicting we might get the first real snow of the season this week. Since snow was such a novelty in Virginia, I was looking forward to it, especially if it meant being snowed in with Zeb.
The three of us settled into our established party roles—Gabe greeting, Zeb working the buffet, and me mixing the seasonal cocktails the organizers had selected along with an assortment of nonalcoholic options.
“Two of the Kringle Jingle cocktails.” A shorter man wearing glasses and a jaunty holiday bow tie stepped up to the bar.
“Coming right up.” Out of habit, I looked around to see who he might be getting the second drink for.
“The other is for my husband.” Bow-tie guy pointed at an uncomfortable-looking late-forties guy in a black shirt in the far corner of the room. “He’s propping up the wall over there.”
“A time-honored tradition of introverts everywhere,” I joked as I assembled the cocktails.
“Paul’s a good guy.” The fellow nodded so earnestly I feared his bow tie might pop off. “He’s the best really.”
“I’m sure.” I’d done the bartender gig enough to know to always agree with the patron’s assessment of their spouse. “How long have you been together?”
“Three years this holiday season.” Bow-tie guy looked adoringly over at his stern silver-haired husband. Love. I’d never been in it, never close, but one couldn’t miss the love arcing between the two of them, even across the room.
“Holiday fling you just couldn’t quit?” I mused. How did one go from just-for-December to forever-and-ever? Was there any chance…?
Nah. I couldn’t allow my brain to register that thought. What Zeb and I had was different. Not epic like the bow tie and Mr. Stern. We didn’t glow for each other, didn’t watch each other across a crowded room.
“Whoops. Careful with the cookie tray.” My head instantly swiveled to find Zeb helping one of the young servers avoid catastrophe. And okay, maybe I did know where he was most of the time. But it was a working necessity. Not…
“When you meet the one, the time of year doesn’t much matter.” The bow-tie guy spared me from finishing my earlier thought even as he supplied an even worse one.
What if Zeb was my “one,” but the timing doomed us anyway? Five years down the road, I’d be near retirement from the navy. Ready for what? I still wasn’t sure. Five years previous, and maybe I wouldn’t have decided to go for the full twenty. Heck, zoom forward or backward any number of years, and Zeb and I would have likely never happened. What made this year so special? And what did it matter how rare and special Zeb was if there was no path forward? Jealousy for this other couple I barely knew bubbled up in my chest, making my throat bitter and scratchy.
“Here you go.” I passed over both drinks and earned another smile in the process.
“Thanks. And good luck.”
“With bartending?” I frowned. Tonight’s crowd was particularly easy, mainly light-drinking geeky types and their assorted spouses.
“With whatever has that faraway look in your eyes.”
“Huh.” I hadn’t realized I was that damn obvious. I’d have to work harder to keep my emotions under wrap, something I’d never struggled with before. “Sorry. Guess I’ve got a few questions rattling around my brain.”
“Bet you already know the answer.” And with that bow-tie guy was off, returning to his adoring spouse and leaving me with even more questions.
I wouldn’t take the bet on me having the answers. When it came to Zeb, all I had was the increasing certainty that everything I’d thought I’d known was wrong.
Sixteen
ZEB
12 SHOPPING DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS
“Everything must be perfect.” Betsy Zimmerman’s mother, Bonnie, had been in epic mother-of-the-bride mode from the moment the family had walked through the doors of Seasons. They had come in advance of the Friday night dinner for their out-of-town guests, which was also doubling as a rehearsal dinner. The wedding was taking place at a Christmas tree farm with a reception at a large hotel afterward, but they’d chosen Seasons for the rehearsal dinner. I didn’t need Gabe to tell me that the wealthy family’s business and potential word of mouth were crucial. But Mrs. Zimmerman was going to require every last drop of my patience and tact.
