Page 26 of One Night, Two Holidays

She chuckles and nestles against me again. “What are you doing on New Year’s Eve? My roommates and I are throwing a party. I’d love for you to come. Meet everyone.”

My throat tightens. “I can’t,” I say, hating the words even as they leave my mouth. “That’s when I start night shift. Seven to seven, for a month.”

She pulls away, propping herself on one elbow and brushing her hair out of her face. “A whole month? I don’t even get home from work until six-thirty or seven, usually. Do you have weekends off, at least?”

I shake my head. “Just Wednesdays.”

Her expression falls, and it hits me—what she said about never being anyone’s favorite. She almost seems to be bracing herself, expecting to be let down. Her roommates both left, her parents are on vacation together, and Nessa hasn’t said a word of complaint, but deep down, I’m sure she feels abandoned. Like everyone else has somewhere better to be. I hate that I’m the one making her feel that way again.

“This is why I didn’t try to meet you before,” I tell her. “I wanted to—but I knew it’d be hard. My life…it doesn’t leave much room for anything else.”

“I get it,” she says softly. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, Nessa.”

My words can’t begin to capture how sorry I truly am. I’ve only just started getting to know her and already real life is barging in. I’m leaving, and when I get back, we’ll hardly see each other. What if, after spending this perfect night together, I never really get a chance with her? It feels like such a terrible waste. This spark between us, blown out before it even has an opportunity to grow.

But it would be crazy to change my plans for a girl I just met. Right? Kind of like how it was crazy to knock on her door in the first place.

She gives me a small, tight smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “It’s really okay. You should get ready for your flight.”

I pull her close again, pressing a kiss to her lips, then her jaw, her neck, nipping at her soft skin with my teeth and making her laugh.

“I think I can spare fifteen minutes,” I say. “If you’re up for that?”

“I amsoup for that.”

In my apartment,I move on autopilot—shower, get dressed, check my bag. I glance out the window near my bed. The sky is a pale gray, the city beginning to wake.

My mind drifts back to how I felt when I first arrived here. The anxiety, the uncertainty, questioning why I’d even applied to a residency so far away from home. And every day since, my doubt has deepened.

Meeting Nessa is the first time I’ve felt like maybe there’s a reason I’m here.

Shaking my head, I sit on the edge of my bed and pull on my shoes. I’ve seen too much tragedy and suffering in residency to believe that everything happens for a reason.

But then I think back to my conversation with Nessa as we lit the candles last night. Finding light in the darkness. Hope, even in the worst of times. Trusting that what we have—and who we are—will be enough.

I’ve never been one to dig too deep into the meaning of Christmas. Growing up, my family read the stories—about shepherds seeing angels, wise men following a star—but they always just felt like words. Now, I think I’m finally getting it. The heart of the holidays isn’t in flawless plans or finding the perfect gifts. It’s in the unexpected—the surprises you never saw coming, the unplanned moments that shift your perspective and change the way you see the world.

Like meeting someone who makes one night celebrating two holidays feel like the start of something bigger.

Maybe that’s the real message: that the best things come when you let go of expectations and stay open to whatever life brings your way. That even when the path feels uncertain, it might lead you exactly where you need to be.

And I know where I need to be.

CHAPTER 18

December 26, 8:37 am

NESSA

In my head, I know we need darkness to appreciate light. The contrast is essential. One can’t exist without the other. Like if I hadn’t known the deep loneliness of being left behind by my roommates, then Jack’s arrival—shivering with his comforter wrapped around him—wouldn’t have felt quite so sweet.

Unfortunately, the opposite is also true. And going from the warm after-glow of having Jack in my bed, the way he lit me up from the inside out, making me feel worthy and beautiful and chosen to lying here alone is just torture.

Tears fill my eyes. Even as they spill down my cheeks, I know this is ridiculous. Jack had to go—the holidays are for spending time with your family, the people you love most in the world. And he already pushed his plans back for one night.

He doesn’t know that I know. To be fair, I had no clue when he first told me the airport was still closed, that he wouldn’t be leaving until this morning. But when I was on my phone lookingfor a latke recipe, I saw a news alert that O’Hare had been reopened hours earlier with flights going in and out.

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