Page 1 of Christmas in His Arms

1

CARRIE

Ileaned back in my chair, crossing my arms as I watched Ethan scroll through my phone with that usual smug grin. "You know," he said without looking up, "you’re a lot more fun when you’re not pretending to be the CEO of this place."

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t help the smirk that crept up on me. "One day, I might be the CEO of this place."

Ethan glanced up at me, eyebrows raised like I wasn’t fooling anyone. He tilted the phone toward me, flashing the photo he found from three weeks ago—messy hair, shoes in hand, sneaking out of the hotel like I had somewhere better to be. "Ah, yes, the infamous walk of shame," he teased. "Did you at least sneak out the back exit like I taught you?"

"Shut up." I laughed, snatching the phone back. "It wasn’t even like that."

"Really? Because your hair says otherwise." Ethan feigned a snooty act and pressed his open palm against his chest as he spoke, and I locked my phone and ignored the humiliating photo. A partygoer who also just happened to be leaving thehotel at the same time as me nabbed the shot and made sure to send it to our whole friend group. I never did get that guy's name, and while he was a decent lay, I didn't want it, anyway.

"Yeah, well, your hair says you just rolled out of bed every day, but I don’t hear anyone giving you a hard time." I shot him a look. "Funny how that works." Ethan and I were thick as thieves—had been since college graduation when we both nailed the only two internships available here at Cox Media in Chicago. Of course, we both went on to land jobs, and as one of the top marketing execs here, Ethan always made fun of me—to make sure I didn't get a big head.

He raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. "Hey, I’m just here for moral support. You’re the one breaking down double standards all on your own, Boss." He winked at me in his playful way, and I snickered.

"Think you'll be free for drinks after work?" I sucked in a deep breath and sighed. My life was pretty boring, and I could bank on the same general routine every workday but Fridays—when Ethan and I found some sort of trouble to get into together. And weekends were for recovering from Friday shenanigans while prepping for the upcoming work week. I mostly worked, worked out, tried to eat healthy, and every now and again, had drinks with my best friend.

"Ah, I can't," he said, frowning, and I knew why he couldn’t before he continued. "Jake has this amazing dinner planned. Said he’s cooking and everything."

When I first met Ethan, I'd have sworn he was coming on to me. He always complimented my outfits and helped me decide what to eat during our shared lunches. When he brought his first boyfriend to lunch with us, however, I quickly realized my slightcrush on the seemingly perfect man was horribly misplaced. Ever since, he and I had become closer than I was with my own family, which actually wasn't as difficult as you'd think.

"I always knew this day would come, and now I hate you." I made the announcement as he stood up and chuckled at me. He picked up the box of tissues off the corner of my desk and tossed it at me.

"You can hate me later. Right now, you need to tell me if my hair looks good or if I really do have bedhead. I really like this guy, Care Bear." The whiny way he said it was so absolutely flamboyant and totally him. I had to laugh at him.

I threw the box back at him, and he caught it with a spark of mischief in his eyes. "Your hair is fine. If this Jack dude doesn’t totally fall in love with you tonight, dump him. You're too hung up on never finding someone. Don't settle. There are heaps of gay men who would love to date you."

I sighed as he set the tissues down and smoothed his hair back. "It's Jake, silly. And I really appreciate you, hun. Thanks for always being my cheerleader. Let me know if I can get a raincheck for tomorrow!" His hand waved in the air as he headed toward the door, and I called my goodbyes as he let himself out.

Leaning back in my chair with a bit of discouragement settling over me, I glanced at the time on my phone still held tightly in my hand. It was approaching quitting time, which meant my commute across town on the L and the five-block walk to my apartment. All of which I had to do alone tonight. Normal evenings, I shared most of the train ride with Ethan, but apparently, his date came first tonight.

When Ethan and I graduated from UNLV, neither of us thought we'd land in Chicago. We both hoped for something bigger, maybe NYC or LA. We both also spent the entirety of the last semester feeling sorry for ourselves, believing we'd have to go in separate directions. So when we nailed the internship interviews and were both selected for this exact position, it felt like fate had ordained for us to be together.

Now, however, I was feeling the loneliness of my best friend moving on without me. He'd go on to find love and settle down, while I had yet to meet a single man who lived up to my standards. Guys were just immature, wanting only sex. Or they were intimidated by the fact that I was an executive and quickly rising in my career. There was no happy medium. Not one man I had dated in six years of searching had I found even relatively close to meeting my standards.

I sighed and stood, deciding to leave early. If I got to the station quickly, I'd make it home in time to stop by the bakery down the street from my apartment and grab a loaf of my favorite asiago cheese bread to make paninis for dinner. And then I could soak in a hot bath and drink a glass or two of wine and try to forget how my entire love life was nothing but a mess of rancid first dates and foolish one-night stands. Ethan wasn't kidding when he said I was breaking those double standards. If men could play the field and get away with it, why couldn't a woman just enjoy a fling now and then?

Grabbing my jacket and purse, I locked up my office and slipped out. My heels clicked on the floor as I walked toward the elevator. I'd have to get used to doing a lot more things by myself if Ethan was truly going to get serious about dating. I was ready and open to settling down too. I just had no prospects, whichmeant I'd be lonely a lot—or playing third wheel, which didn't sound appealing.

At the station, I waited for the train to arrive and thumbed through my socials. For the most part, I busied myself with work and other things, but every now and then, I managed to check in on what was happening with people I knew. Marcy had a baby. Jessica wrecked her brand-new car drunk driving. Both of them had left Evergreen Falls for the same reason I had—to leave the small-town gossip mill and nosy busybody culture behind. But I'd moved on and made something of myself, while they just relocated and kept doing the same dumb things.

I shook my head and started to slide my phone into the pocket of my suit when it started to ring. Looking down at the caller ID, I noticed it was my mother calling. Her smiling face in the picture lit up my screen, and I huffed. We didn't have the best relationship, and most of the time, I ignored her calls, but I was bored. And I hated riding the train alone. At least a conversation with her would give me something to think about other than the stench of hundreds of unwashed bodies all sharing the same small space.

So I swiped right to answer.

"Mom, hey," I said about as cheerily as I could manage. My feet hurt from walking and the train was delayed a few minutes. I stared up the platform at hundreds of people ready to board the L and forced a plastic smile onto my face. The discomfort of it reminded me to play nice with her.

"Carrie, my God…" Mom sounded emotional, as if she'd been crying. I heard her stuttered breathing and a beeping sound in the background.

"Mom, what is it?" My tone shifted as quickly as my face fell from fake happiness to concern.

"It's your father, Carrie. The doctors think he's had a stroke."

As much as I loved to hate my little hometown and all its obnoxious qualities, I loved my parents. They were a bit over-controlling, and Dad's history as town mayor for nearly thirty years made it almost impossible for me growing up there. There was some bitterness and animosity, but beneath it all, my Dad was more important, and the idea that I might lose him made my heart do a flip.

"He what?" I glanced up the line, seeing the train coming.

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