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I gag a little in my mouth as I re-read the last text.
Evan:It burns. Why does something so sweet burn this much?
There’s about a twenty-minute delay where I imagine his body is exorcising a Christmas-flavored demon from his body.
Evan:I’m so sorry. I called Juliet. I let her know. We can reschedule
Twenty minutes later, and I still haven’t figured out what to say. This was supposed to be the first time I had a romantic, Christmas experience. I’ve always been single. I’ve always spent my Christmas watching my sisters receive glittering jewelry or my brother’s perfect family come downstairs in matching pajamas, looking like they’re walking out of some LL Bean or Lands’ End cover shoot.
I love Christmas, but I hate being reminded how unlucky I am when it comes to my love life. Where’s my romantic sleigh ride? Where’s my kiss underneath the mistletoe with someone other than my dog? Where’s my Christmas miracle?
Eva:Don’t worry about it. These things happen. We’ll figure things out once you’re better.
Eva:Merry Christmas!
He sends me a few Christmas emojis but I’m done. It looks like I’m going to have another repeat this year. Maybe it’s for the best. Evan and Eva? It would never work.
A few minutes later, Juliet calls me but I let it go to voicemail. I don’t have the heart to answer. Being single never used to bother me, but as I’ve watched each one of my sisters get married and my brother’s family slowly grow, it feels like I’m not experiencing everything Christmas has to offer.
I don’t know. All I know is that for the first time in my life, my Christmas spirit is at an all-time low because I’m going to have to cancel all the festive activities I’d planned.
Defeated, I close the door to my car and head back to my parents’ house. It feels like a walk of shame as I meander up the driveway and then the sidewalk to the front door.
I pause for a few moments, drumming up the courage to enter. When I finally open the door, smells that should cheer me up don’t. If anything, I’m finding the smell of baking gingerbread cloying. And the sound of my favorite Christmas music is grating against my ears. What’s happening to me?
My mother’s coming down the stairs, her arms filled with her favorite Nutcracker figures.
“What’s wrong, Eva?”
“It’s off. The cabin. The sleigh ride and Christmas market. Everything.”
She sets down the Nutcrackers and then pulls me into a big hug.
“I don’t understand. Did a storm of the century knock out an entire town and they had to cancel Christmas?”
I snort. “No, Evan got food poisoning from his eggnog. He can’t make it anymore”
She raises an eyebrow. “Unpasteurized eggs?”
“Yeah.”
“Rookie mistake, sweetheart.”
“I know,” I say, letting out a resigned sigh.
“Well,” she says, pulling away. “Christmas is still on here. Everyone will be overjoyed to know you’ll be joining us. The kids will be ecstatic that they’ll be having their favorite Aunt at their table for Christmas dinner.”
“Yeah,” I say through gritted teeth.
Exactly what I wanted to avoid. Another dinner at the kids’ table because apparently, I’m not an adult unless I have a significant other joining me.
Honestly, though—sometimes the kids’ table is far more interesting. My niece can talk to ghosts or so she told me this past Thanksgiving. One of them likes me too, so I have that going for me. Maybe I can parlay a seat at the adult table with my newfound ghost boyfriend. Although, I would probably be escorted elsewhere instead.
“I made your bed, just in case. I thought you might get a little homesick.”
Wow. Am I that predictable? Did my family seriously believe that this was some farce? Something that I’d try out for a little bit but then head back home?
“On second thought,” I say, a fire building inside me. “I’m still going. I’m going to call Juliet tomorrow morning and we’re going to figure it out. There has to be more than one eligible bachelor in Whispering Winds.”
