Page 48 of Nice Guys Don't Kiss Like That At Christmas
She continues.“Like… actually love you.Not because you’re strong or competent or a badass nurse-slash-survivor.Just because you’re you.Funny.Caring.Curious.Softer than you think.With a protective streak for your friends you forget to have for yourself.”
My throat tightens.“I am cold.I don’t let people in…”
“You do.Not everyone.Yes, you can be sarcastic and dry and you’ve got more layers than an onion.Not everyone gets to see your core, Evie Love.But the ones who do… they’re lucky.I’m lucky.Nobody says you have to be an open book to everyone.I’m there for that.You be you.”She pauses.“And I’m not just saying that because Christmas movies are playing in the background and some hot widower is about to save a tree farm with the power of love.”
I let out a half sob, half laugh.“God, Claire.”
“I’m serious.You always talk like you’re a side character in other people’s stories.Maybe a bonus chapter.But you’re the main plot, Evie.”She pauses.“You’re supposed to be the leading lady of your life.”
LoverBoy shifts in my lap, letting out a tiny sigh that sounds like agreement.
“Are you quoting The Holiday?”
“Evie, if you were a melody and I knew how to write music, I’d only use the good notes.”
I chuckle.But still, beneath Claire’s words, beneath the softness they leave in my chest, there’s something else pressing behind my ribs.
Because even now...I’m still living a version of the lie.
Not the one about my body.Not the cancer or the scars or the fight.
But the one that says “I’m fine.”That I don’t want anything more than what I already have.That I don’t care if he leaves.
The one that says “Adam doesn’t deserve my mess.”
Because he’s probably going on to better, bigger things like New York or the West Coast or some dream job where he’s the golden vet with a heart of gold and a clipboard full of perfect puppy stats.Where he’s going to be someone who makes him laugh.Who hugs him without second-guessing herself.Who kisses him without overthinking.
And me?
I’m still here trying to prove that I’m not the girl who fell apart.That I’m not a risk.That I’m not too much.
Maybe I’ve spent so long trying to show I can carry my own weight that I never stopped to ask if it’s okay to want someone who might carry a little with me.
But Adam doesn’t get that choice.Not really.Because I’ve already decided for him.That this was one night.That my story doesn’t fit inside his future.
I grab my phone again.One unread message from my mom, timestamped 11:42 p.m.
Mom
Ran into Dr.Ronon.He says you’re his favorite success story.Did you see that job opening last week?Cape Cod Regional posted for Trauma Nursing Director.Great pay.Full benefits.View of the ocean.Just saying.Love you.
Cape Cod.
When I got diagnosed, friends left for college and came back for the holidays, talking about dorm food and new boyfriends, while I stopped posting online because I didn’t want to explain why my hair was falling out.Most of them didn’t ask.
One night, I drove out to Nauset Light and cried until my lungs hurt, because it was the only place I could breathe without pretending to be okay.
Papet made me a plaque that year, Eve Foster, future veterinarian, before I knew that future wouldn’t happen.
Cape Cod is where I fought for my life.But it’s also where everything I’d imagined dissolved into the salty air that used to be my favorite kind of smell.
Mom knows I’m not looking at jobs there.
I’m going back for New Year’s.That’s enough.
I don’t reply.Not yet.
Instead, I scoop up LoverBoy and carry him back into the room.
