“Alright, alright.”Claire’s voice has a smile in it, “Send me all the pictures.I’m not related to any of you.Now, Eve, ready for your Hallmark Christmas movie era?Rumor has it your male lead has large hands.”
“Hallmark?Have you met me?Eve Foster, Registered Nurse and newly appointed Christmas Grinch.”
Claire chuckles.“Hey, the scrubs you packed for this‘perfect second chance’job are festive red and green.You’re trying.”
True, but I don’t tell her it feels like a tiny Band-Aid on a million broken bones.
“Chuck called.”
The car falls silent except for Blanche’s suspicious snort and whispers of“this asshole.”
“Tell me you’re blocking Dr.Jerk Du Soleil’s number,” Claire continues.
“I did.But he called me from the hospital… when I realized it was him, I thought he might say something about my suspension I could tell Jennie.”
“F—f—fuck him,” they chorus as my Bluetooth stutters, choosing violence as its final act.
“Your car gets it,” Harper says.
“Turn right now,” my GPS commands with the confidence of someone who’s never seen a ditch.
“If I turn right now, I’m ending up onDateline.”
A shadow appears in the distance.
I squint.
Bigfoot?A man?An axe-wielding monster?
“This is how it starts,” I murmur, as both Blanche and Dorothy’s barking hitsfull alertlevels.
“What do you mean?Eve?Hello?”My friends’ voices grow increasingly concerned but also further away as if my reception is getting spotty… I narrow my eyes, as a tiny blur darts into the road.
“Shit!”I slam on the brake and yank the wheel, tires skidding as I swerve toward the shoulder.“Everyone okay?”
I turn to my dogs who I swear nod back at me.“I’ll be right back,” I tell them and slide out of the car with Dorothy’s carrier she refuses to use.The chihuahua stares at me with the wide-eyed terror of a creature that was trying to vibe before the universe betrayed him.And damn it, I recognize that look.That“how did I get here?”look that makes you question every life choice that led to this moment.
“Come on,” I whisper.“You got this.”
And maybe it’s my understanding tone, or the cold, but the chihuahua with a Christmas sweatshirt and a collar that says“LoverBoy”jumps into the carrier like he’s finally found its emotional support human.Welcome to the club, buddy.We’re all looking for that particular someone.Well, not me.I got my dogs.The only relationship status with a scientifically proven positive impact on blood pressure.
I glance back up.
Fuck.
That shadow grew broad shoulders.
“Let’s go, LoverBoy.”I hurry back into my car, keeping the rising panic locked deep inside with all my other unresolved trauma.Not today, Satan.
The phone chimes.Please let it be Claire telling me she’s geo-located me and is sending help.But nope.
My car’s robotic Bluetooth voice reads:
Second Chance Dating App
"Love the pic.Do you suck dicks?"
Happy Holidays to me.
