Page 14 of Merry Little Mishap

God, she fell asleep!

“Tiffany, are you serious right now!” After a few more moments of calling her name, I finally hung up.

Resting my elbow on the bar, I looked at the pile of ingredients for coquito and a Chinese takeout menu scribbled with indecisive choices for a dinner I wish I could have, but was afraid would lead to inevitable disappointment.

I watched as Luis wiped wonton crumbs off Angela’s cheek, unsure if my fear of ending up like Tiffany was even valid anymore. I was wrecked, my mind and heart an endless, revolving carousel of Elena’s beautiful face.

“How have you both stayed married for so long without it ending badly?” I asked. They were both surprised by the impromptu question.

They looked at each other, then averted their attention to the man outside punching his Christmas tree.

Luis and Angela came to some silent agreement and shrugged. “You have to find the person you want to drinkwith… not the person you have to drinkbecauseof.”

The crunch of an egg roll ended the most succinct piece of advice I’d ever heard.

I opened my mouth. Then shut it.

I felt like I’d been an idiot this whole time, dumbstruck by Luis’s casual liquor store advice. I stared down at the rotary phone, at the pile of coquito ingredients, and the Sichuan Garden menu.

I was headed this direction all along, but I was just too stubborn to go after what I actually wanted this Christmas.

I knew the risk.

I knew the reward.

And while Tiffany fell asleep in my nephew’s bed, and the man outside drove away (not realizing his tree had fallen out of the trunk), I lifted the rotary phone blindly, and let my heart take control with each spin of the numbers until the phone started to ring.

There was no going back now.

“Hello? Sichuan Garden? I’d like to place an order to go…”

Icouldn’t believe Camilla, my personal romantic assassin, liking the most random posts on Nick’s Instagram feed. Like it were a car wreck, I couldn't help but stare, recoiling at the illuminated heart that sat below a photo of Nick holding a Donny Hathaway album from years ago.Years!

“Aww Jesus,” I whispered to myself, shivering in the dim lobby of my apartment complex, smashing the elevator button once again. I had one goal, and one goal alone; get upstairs, avoid Nick at all costs, and enjoy the Martini-induced deep sleep that I earned.

I leaned against a row of mailboxes, tucked in the corner as the front lobby door swung open.

I fought from groaning, peeking up from my phone whose low battery logo flashed on my screen.

Dear god, don’t do this…

Nick-fucking-Stafford walked through the large, windowed door, his face stern from the cold wind outside, but it softened as he made eyes at me.

“Nick!” I smiled, crossing one leg over the other, letting out the most god-awful chortle.Why am I this way?I tried not to stumble, my holiday drinks already making their way down to my wobbly posture.

“Elena?” he said surprised, scanning me up and down, assessing me, my outfit, my face. “I, uh… thought you…” he shook his head, stopping his thought. “How are you?”

“I’m god,” I said, shutting my eyes. “Good. I mean, I’m good.”

Silence followed as Nick shifted his weight. He muscled over large plastic bags from one hand to the other, balancing a paper grocery sack between his bicep and chest. I watched as he carefully bit down on the tip of his black leather gloves, snatching them free, letting them loose into the bag before licking his lips.

“Still have that deadline tonight?”

“Yes.” I peered over Camilla’s carefully wrapped package that rested on the floor. “Actually, I have more to do than I thought. It’s going to be a busy night.”

“It’s already pretty late, isn’t it?”

I nodded, checking how his black chinos and boots matched perfectly with his long topcoat and heather-gray sweater. I appreciated how long his hair started to become, his duck tails swooped back into perfect waves. He was dressed nice, neat even, a sobering contrast to his equally sexy, rugged, morning look from earlier.

---