Page 85 of Nice Guys Don't Kiss Like That At Christmas
I’vebeeninashitty mood because I’ve fucked up.Because I worry I can’t make it better.Because I want to talk to her, give her space, hold her, give her time.Because I don't know what to do.
My phone beeps.
GROUP CHAT: Adam is in a PICKLE.HA.FUNNY.
Me
Really, did you have to usethatname for the group chat?Also, Kellan, please tell me Mom or Dad aren't in this chat.Or fucking Frank.Because he’s been… something.
Kellan
Frank and the holidays.Never easy.No, he’s not on there.We haven’t talked in years.I should text him, too.And I double checked and the parental unit isn’t on here.It's Wes, Mike, Manuel, me and you.
Me
Great.The only successful relationship is Manuel and he never answers his texts.
Manuel
I'm here!Also...you can learn from the others about what not to do.
Wes
Did you think about crocheting her something else?
Kellan
Or give her your testicle?
Manuel
???
Me
The one I crocheted.
Mike
Your balls with a Santa hat on a platter could work, too.
Kellan
You got this, little bro.
I set my phone down and pace across the honeymoon suite, stopping to check on LoverBoy, who's watching me with that mix of judgment and concern only a Chihuahua can master."Don't give me that look.I know I messed up."
The dog tilts his head like he's saying, "So fix it, dumbass."
"Working on it," I mutter, checking outside where Pine Creek is transforming for Christmas.Main Street buzzes with activity.Shops setting up for the Gingerbread competition, families bundled against the cold.Normal life continuing while mine feels suspended in amber.
What strikes me is Wes's silence in the chat.No practical advice from the man who talked me through every relationship crisis.He knows this is different than Faye.With Faye, I played a role—the dependable small-town vet who never asked for anything, who was always so damn reasonable.When she got the DC offer, I didn't fight.Didn't suggest compromises.Just nodded and said I understood, like the good guy everyone expects me to be.
But with Eve?This isn't about being good or reasonable.It's about being real.
I return to the desk, pulling out the brochure that started this mess.Sandwich Bay Veterinary Practice.The lighthouse on the cover is straight off a postcard—exactly the kind of place I've pictured setting up shop.My fingers tap against the wood in that same nervous pattern I've seen Eve do when she's processing something difficult.
The presentation for my first day sits half-finished beside it."Why Vet Technicians Matter: Five Key Roles in Rural Care."Important work that suddenly feels hollow without having Eve to share it with.
