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“You’re a lifesaver. Thanks.” She wraps her long fingers around the mug and closes her eyes while taking a long appreciative breath. “Smells like...lifeblood.”
We both snicker and sip. The weeks leading up to Christmas break are nerve-wracking with parent-teacher conferences, classroom holiday parties, school staff party, and putting together the annual holiday play with the after-school program. I’m drowning in deadlines. The last thing I need to worry about is some man who couldn’t play nice. But I can’t help myself. Connor struck a chord with me, and I can’t shake the feeling there could have been more if Dirty Santa hadn’t turned ugly.
“So, how did things go with mystery man?” I prop myself on the corner of her desk, eager for the happy details. “How was your coffee date?”
Rachel blushes a pale shade of pink and averts her eyes.
“You’re blushing.” I lean in closer, beaming with glee. “That good, huh?”
“Shh...we’re at school. What if someone hears you?” She leans back in her chair, craning her neck for a peek down the hall. When she’s satisfied the coast is clear, she steals a glance at me, then shuffles papers on her desk. “His name is Grant, and there’s nothing to tell.”
“You’re a terrible liar.” I sip my coffee and wait.
It never takes Rachel long to crack. We tell each other everything. Well, mostly. As much as I want to tell her about every detail of Friday night, I can't find the right words. How do I describe the magnetic energy, the way his smile lit up my insides, the warmth of his touch, and how he calmed my jitters before everything went sideways?
“You’re right. I’m a terrible liar. Things went...well. Good.” Her eyes soften as she stares past me, wistful and happy. “I don’t want to jinx it.”
“As long as you’re happy.” I won’t push it. I reach across the desk and place my hand over hers and squeeze.
“Thanks, Ginger. I really like him. He’s so–” Her shoulders relax as she slumps in her chair. A satisfied smile plays across her lips. She revels in her lovestruck stupor for a moment, then shakes it off, giving me her full attention. “What about you? How did you make out with the redhead? He and Grant are friends.”
“Pfft...perfect.” I roll my eyes and take another sip of coffee. “Let’s just say the evening didn’t end well. I don’t think Mayor Stanton will ask me to host next year’s party.”
“What are you not telling me?” She leans forward and props her elbows on the desk. “You didn’t want to host this year, so don’t tell me that’s what’s bothering you.”
I rest the mug on a stack of papers. The heavy weight in my heart and gut hasn’t eased since Friday evening. Something’s not sitting right with me, and I can’t sort it out.
"Everything about Connor, the redhead, felt right, you know." I tilt my head and rest a hand on my churning tummy. "He put me at ease with the crowd. You know how nervous I get when everyone's looking at me. The worst part about the holiday play is having to introduce myself to everyone attending."
Rachel nods quietly, allowing me to continue without interruption.
“He was funny, charming, a good sport until...he wasn’t. Or at least until he stole that lady’s gift. Things got out of hand, ugly.”
“Wait, you mean he stole a Dirty Santa present, or like, literally stole something?”
"The Dirty Santa present." My brows pinch together as the uncomfortable situation replays in my head for the hundredth time. "The lady was disappointed but didn't get mad. Another lady made a big deal about it, saying it should be off-limits because it was a Santa gift. Everyone looked at me like I was supposed to fix it. I went with my gut and stuck to the rules. But if Connor hadn't taken it–"
"Whoa. Time out, Ginger." She rests her hand on my thigh as my foot knocks against her desk. Her voice softens as if I were one of her kindergarteners. "You're too hard on yourself...and Connor, too. Dirty Santa's a game. It sounds to me like the other lady is the one at fault, stirring the pot."
"I get that, but I told Connor how nervous I was that night. Why didn't he just go with the flow and pick a different gift? It would have been much easier, and maybe everyone would have left happy."
“Did you ask him why?”
"He said he wasn't the kind of person to shrink back when someone tried to shame him." I shake my head, irritated with myself for not giving him the benefit of the doubt. I internalized his actions as if he did it in spite when it wasn’t about me at all. What if he had a reason, and I was too stubborn to listen? “He said he needed it.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t give him a chance to explain why?” Rachel leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. “What are you going to do about it?”
I don’t know what I’d do without my best friend. And this time, it didn’t take a pint of ice cream and butter-laden popcorn to hash things out.
“I should talk to him.” A sharp pang stabs at my gut. “Ifhe’ll talk to me.”
“I know a guy.” Rachel opens her desk drawer and grins. She pulls out her cell phone and punches out a text. “I’ll forward you his number when Grant gets back to me.”
“If you have any leftover holiday magic, I’ll take some of that, too.”
***
Connor
