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“He left town without even telling his mom. I had to tell her at the market today when she came by her stall to see him.”
“Sounds like his work-life balance sucks.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you going to go after him?”
“What? No!” My knee-jerk rejection of the idea seems to take Saint aback. I consider whether the love I was starting to feel for Nick might be worth fighting for, then shake my head. “No. I liked him a lot, and it hurts that he didn’t reciprocate, or at least not enough to give me a second thought today. I get that work emergencies happen, but he didn’t even call me. Or even his mom.Ihad to tell her he went back to Toronto. He warned me that his job is demanding, but I know better than to think love is enough to change a person if we aren’t fundamentally compatible.”
“We found a way to make things work,” Saint ventures.
“Yeah, and everyone thinks we’re weird as fuck, in case you haven’t noticed.” I gesture vaguely around us, taking in the shared duplex and the fact that my ex-husband is the one whose shoulder I’m sobbing on over my broken heart.
“If it makes things easier for you, I can give you more space to pursue other relationships.” Saint offers, frowning. If I couldn’t tell from his face that it kills him to offer me that, I’d be pissed.
“Nope.” I shake my head and hug him tight. “No way. You’re stuck with me.”
Saint squeezes me back even as he sighs theatrically. “Guess we’ll just have to keep searching for the right guy to get me out of those pesky alimony payments.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m still not touching that money.”
“Fine, it will be there if you ever need it. And someday, if it’s still sitting there untouched, we can use it to fund our lavish retirement.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He nods decisively.
I resign myself to accepting I won’t convince him to stop with that nonsense, but it’s comforting to think we can always be close like this. Grow old together, even if it’s not the way I’d envisioned when we saidI do. I just really want there to be another man in that picture with us. One who can love me the way Nick and I were playing at. It’s just too bad we pretended so well that I bought into the illusion we created with all those romantic evenings together.
Saint’s phone rings. When he pulls it out to check who is calling, I see Angel’s name on the caller ID. Saint goes to shove it back in his pocket, ignored, but I stop him.
“You can answer that.”
“They want to come over because their ex has the kids tonight.”
“All the more reason to answer. That’s got to be hard.”
Saint shrugs. “They’re getting attached. Better not to lead them on.”
“You’ve told them your stance on relationships, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So, you’re not leading them on. It’s up to them to manage their expectations, but they could probably use a friend tonight.”
“Sure, but so could you.”
His phone stops ringing. Stubborn bastard. “So, invite them over and the three of us can make popcorn and watch cheesy movies together.”
Saint sighs, but he pulls out his phone and calls Angel back to invite them over. Unlike most of my dates over the years, Angel doesn’t seem the least bit put off by sharing Saint’s attention with me. The three of us squabble over what to watch first.
Angel and I override Saint’s protests thatDie Hardis a Christmas movie and put onJingle All the Wayinstead. It’s not the Christmas Eve I’d hoped for, but cuddling on the couch with Saint and Angel eases some of the ache of Nick’s unexpected absence. Funny to think someone I barely knew a week ago could leave such a void in my heart, but love is strange like that. Strange and sometimes cruel.
I’mdisorientedwhenIwake up on my couch sometime before dawn. Is that bells ringing? And Christmas carols? I blink blearily awake and struggle free of Saint’s arm around me. He mumbles a wordless protest. On his other side, Angel is snoring softly. Saint snuggles into them when I get up.
My television is glowing with the streaming service logo, long past the time when the ‘are you still watching?’ dialog box timed out. We must have fallen asleep in the middle of a movie.
The music is still playing. I go to the window and peer out to see what’s going on. It’s absurdly early for carolers. But that’s not what I see. Snow. It’s snowing perfect fluffy flakes that drift through the air and cover my lawn.
