Page 13 of Holiday Romance
“Careful,” he says as I undo the clasp. “The elderly, heavily accented man at the antique shop told me it was cursed.”
“Oh, he did, did he?”
“Something about three ghosts on Christmas Eve? Or maybe it was a golem. I went back the next day to check but the place had mysteriously disappeared.” He helps gather my hair from the nape of my neck as I put it on. “I can guarantee you it didn’t cost as much as these tickets did,” he adds. “Or much at all to be honest. But it’s only the first part.”
Now that gets my interest. “I get a two-part present?”
“Anniversary present and a Christmas present.”
“We don’t do Christmas presents.”
“I’m a bad boy, Molly, I do what I want. I’ll give it to you when we land, it’s in my suitcase.” He scratches the side of his jaw as I twist the chain into place, positioning it against my throat to show him. “It looked bigger at the store,” he says as if I’d care about something like that.
“It’s beautiful, thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” His eyes flick up to meet mine, a smile spreading across his face. “Merry Christmas, Moll.”
And just like that, I’m the happiest I’ve been in weeks. “Merry Christmas, Andrew.”
* * *
“So, any new women in your life I should know about?”
I adjust myself on the stool as I shed another layer. Our flight’s delayed forty minutes so we’re sitting at one of the small bars dotted around the gate. Me with a glass of sparkling water in front of me, Andrew with ginger ale. We tried the first-class lounge, but it was predictably full due to the number of planes struggling to get on the runway. The snow is particularly heavy this year, but I’m not worried about it. Whereas an inch of the stuff would throw Ireland into chaos, Chicago knows how to handle itself.
“Just one,” he says, reaching for the small bowl of tortilla chips between us. “Her name’s Penny.”
I try not to show my surprise as I take a sip of my drink, the bubbles burning my tongue. He conveniently leftthatout of his last few emails.
Zoe once said that Andrew and I had the strangest friendship she’d ever heard of. But I didn’t think it was that bad. We lived on opposite sides of the city and he was often traveling for work while I was simplyatwork all hours of the day. We rarely saw each other outside of these flights. And while I firmly believe that an online-based friendship can be just as real as an in-person one, because of my workload, if it wasn’t for this little tradition, we probably would have lost touch by now.
But just because we didn’t see each other didn’t mean we didn’t talk. Texts, emails, phone calls. He was the first person I told when I found out Zoe was pregnant. When I got my apartment, my job. He seemed mostly concerned with sending me memes and photos of suspiciously stained furniture he’d found abandoned on the sidewalk. (Found you a futon, he’d write. Or his favorite,Let’s play is that blood or ketchup.) But he usually kept me updated on his girlfriends. In fact, he went so far as to introduce them to me on the rare times we met up between Christmases, probably so they didn’t get concerned that their new boyfriend was constantly sending pictures of disease-ridden armchairs to another woman.
“When did this happen?” I ask, trying not to sound hurt that I didn’t know already.
“About two months ago,” he says casually. “She’s cute but a snorer. And a very early riser.”
“You met her two months ago and she’s moved in already?”
“Well, it feels cruel to keep her outside at this time of year.”
I stare at him as he spins his phone on the counter, waiting until I get it. It takes me at least five seconds longer than I’d like to admit.
“You got adog?”
“My roommate got a dog,” he corrects, pulling up a photo.
“You got a dog!” I coo over the little sausage. “Penny?”
He nods. “We’re very happy together.”
“And I’m happy for you. I know you wanted one.”
“So long as the neighbors don’t complain we should be okay. Not sure about the guy across the hall though. Looks like a snitch.”
I hand his phone back, hesitating as I try to gauge his mood. “So, Marissa’s gone?”
“Who?”
