Page 45 of Minted

“I can’t keep asking you to come to those,” she says. “So far, these dates have all been a bust, which means I haven’t helped you at all.” She whips out her phone. “Speaking of, I’m about to rip her a new one. Thirty minutes, and nothing?” She’s shaking her head.

“Wait.” I put my hand on hers, and it happens again. That little zing. I close my fingers around hers slowly.

Her mouth drops open and her eyes widen and slowly, they rise to mine. “What?”

Right. I said to wait. “Don’t bother,” I say. “If she doesn’t come back with some kind of great explanation?” I shrug. “Then we’ve learned that she’s unreliable.”

She frowns. “You’re really zen about all this.”

I shrug. “Oppenheimer never felt right to me. Plus, I feel like the right person is out there, and I just need to have the right timing.” I stare right at her as I say it, but she seems to have no inkling that I’m talking about her.

Maybe Oliver’s right. Maybe the timing is still wrong for us.

Well, I’m not in a rush. It’s been fifteen years already. I can wait a few more months. Or even a year, if that’s what it takes. I’m learning from Lucky what I should have already seen with Dave and Seren’s kids. Lucky’s still a bit of a mess, but she gets better day by day. Barbara may be struggling, but day by day, she’s going to be closer and closer to ready, too.

Love, real love, takes time to be developed. And to grow.

“Alright, well, I’m sorry she didn’t come.” She glances at her watch yet again. “Thirty-five minutes?” She shakes her head. “I’m calling it.”

“Do you have somewhere to go?”

“I need to go pick some things out for the girls. I want them to have some presents under the tree.”

“Oh, like what?” I ask.

“I have no idea,” she says. “But I don’t even have a tree yet, so.” She laughs.

“Neither do I,” I say. “Maybe I’ll tag along.”

She blinks. “You said you have a meeting.”

“Oh.” I glance at my phone. “Oliver says they bumped it back.”

I worry she might argue with me, or call me on having a fake meeting, but she doesn’t.

She just bumps me with her hip to push me out of the booth. “Let’s go, then.”

Again, that bump is like the first bite of cotton candy. Like a quick dip on a roller coaster. And like those things, now that I’ve felt it, I need more.

“Where’s the closest tree farm?” I ask as we walk out.

“I have no idea.” Her lip’s twitching. “I was just going to go over there.” She points at the little stand set up in the park.

“Duh,” I say. “But how will you get it home?”

“The benefit of having a crappy car is that you can strap a tree to the top of it no problem.” She looks unbearably smug.

As we walk to the stand, I’m actually a little impressed. It’s a kids’ park in the middle of Scarsdale, but they’ve done a nice job dressing it up. There are a plethora of blinky lights roping off the area, and they have decorated trees on each of the four corners. To top it all off, “O Holy Night” is playing softly.

The Santa’s Forest sign is beautiful, and they have several cute reindeer made of pine clippings and lights sprinkled around the area. It looks like they’re for sale, and I’m gripped with an uncharacteristic desire to buy one.

I actually feel a little bad for not getting a tree myself over the past few years. “Do you always get a tree?” I think I want a tree and a reindeer and, well, everything this year, because I like all the feelings I’m having right now, and I want to keep them around any way I can.

“Mom and Dad always bought live trees. Last year, I just didn’t have the heart for it, but. . .”

Because of the girls, she wants to bring back an old family tradition. It’s got to be good for her. After picking the two nicest trees they have, I point at the sign. “Do I get a discount if I have you deliver two?”

The man smiles. “Five bucks off.”

---