Page 44 of Stay this Christmas
“Goodbye, Eliza.”
“Call me after—”
I hung up and put the phone on Do Not Disturb for good measure. She’d probably send me sassy cross-examination texts all night.
Throwing the front door wide before he could knock, I let Sam into my living room.
I’d hoped changing out of workout clothes would make the evening feel less intimate, but he hadn’t received the memo. Standing there in dark blue sweatpants and a white long-sleeve T-shirt, he might as well have been ready for bed. His damp, tousled hair made him look more relaxed than ever, and that roguish smile? Devastating.
The soft, floating feeling in my stomach didn’t bode well for keeping things buddy-buddy.
He stepped over the threshold, looking around. “Nice place.”
June said everybody’s home decor style could be summed up in a single word. Mine? Comfort. Everything from my plush green couch draped with bulky knitted throw blankets to the thick black and white check rug had been made to be warm and inviting, like a whisperedWelcome homeevery time I walked in the door.
“Cozy in here.” He moved farther into the living room and paused. “Whoa. Your collection has expanded.”
A bit at odds with my cozy kick, shiny snow globes sat on every flat surface of my house: mantelpiece, coffee table, book case. I’d even had to put a couple on the kitchen counter just to give them someplace to go. Hard to find room for twenty-one snow globes in all shapes and sizes.
Strike that. I only had twenty in my collection.
I’d been collecting them since I was a little girl, and they’d become my favorite part of the season. My Grandma Evans gave me my first one when I was seven, and I’d looked at that glittery dome holding two tiny ice skaters and squealed with delight. Ever since, I’d added another each year—some were gifts, some I’d bought, but all held special meaning.
Sam moved slowly through my space, gently picking up each globe, checking out what scene it held, and giving it a shake until it swirled with fake snow. He’d always found my collection amusing. As a kid, I’d hoarded them, keeping them in my room instead of spreading them throughout the house with the rest of the holiday decor. At first, I’d been afraid Eliza’s grabby hands might break one, but later on, I’d just wanted to enjoy them for myself.
“This is prime Middle Child Syndrome stuff right here,” he’d said once of my refusal to share my collection.
I let him go through all the snow globes now, both wanting and not wanting him to spot the difference. Maybe he’d forgotten that, too.
“Looks like you’re missing one.” No accusation in his voice, just a simple statement of fact.
“Yeah, it…broke.” I chewed my bottom lip rather than say anything more.
The year we’d dated, he’d contributed to my collection in the most Sam way possible. He used to have this T-shirt with a snowboarding Sasquatch in a Santa hat on it he’d worn so often, it had become thin and insanely soft. We used to joke that Sasquatch Santa was the one true Santa, all others were just cheap imitators.
For Christmas, I’d given him a six-pack of obscure brands of root beer and a beanie hat I’d crocheted. And he’d given me a snow globe…with a snowboarding Sasquatch Santa inside. I’d fallen over laughing when I opened it, but that goofy snow globe had immediately risen to the top of my favorite things ever. When I put the rest of them away that January, I’d kept Sasquatch Santa out to sit on my nightstand. I’d fall asleep at night staring at it, thinking about how much I adored the guy who’d given it to me.
I could still feel that intense ache of longing for someone I already spent hours of each day with, that shivery anticipation that coursed through me whenever I so much as thought his name.
After Sam dumped me, I’d seesawed between sad crying and angry crying. When I heard he took Madison Morgan to the prom just weeks later, I’d switched into a full-bore angry cry. I’d double-wrapped Sasquatch Santa in trash bags and smashed him in the driveway, to much applause from Eliza. It’d been cathartic, in a way. Symbolically, I’d eliminated Sam from my life as surely as he’d eliminated me from his.
Years later, I wished I had that Sasquatch back. Not because I missed Sam, necessarily, but because of just how big a part he’d played in my life before the break-up. I wanted a little piece of those memories back, even if I never saw him again.
Plus, the finicky side of me just wanted my collection complete again. Googling the snow globe, I’d discovered they’d been discontinued and were now considered actual collector’s items. Last I checked, I could get one on eBay for a few hundred dollars.
I didn’t want to complete my collection that badly.
“That’s unfortunate.” He sounded as if he knewexactlywhat had happened to that snow globe.
I bit my lip, feeling weirdly exposed even though I’d admitted nothing. Accidents happened all the time. A hundred different things could have happened to that snow globe. Anyway, talking about it wasn’t going to bring Sasquatch Santa back from the dead.
“Are you ready to bake some cookies?”
He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “If I must.”
I led him into the kitchen, but he stopped when he spotted the ingredients I’d laid out. “I thought we would do a store-bought dough type thing.”
“That’s not real Christmas baking, Samuel.”
