Page 1 of Catch Yourself a Snowmance
Chapter 1
Alyssa
Christmas isn't just a day, it's a frame of mind.
~ Kris Kringle, Miracle on 34th Street
“It will be fun!” Noelle, one of my closest friends, says in her second-grade-teacher voice.
We’re sitting in my living room while I wrap the presents I just bought for my family and a few friends at work. Noelle is sipping some of the hot cider I warmed on the stove while she picks out ribbons and trimmings for the packages I’m wrapping. We’re like an assembly line of two.
“Don’t pull the fun card on me,” I say. “I know fun. I’m the queen of fun. The ambassador of fun. The emissary … the concierge … the curator. You know I’m right. Who’s the most fun out of the five of us?” I pause and look up at Noelle from my seat on the floor. “Me. It’s me. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t know anything about fun outside of the annual J.Q. Adams Elementary School Christmas play.”
“Alyssa.” Noelle crosses her arms sweetly, raises one brow, and smiles a soft smile at me.
“Look. I’d come if it were just you Jennifer, Tori and Stephanie,” I say. “That’s a no-brainer. Girls’ week away in the cabin, sign me up! But Liam and his friends? No. That’s a hard pass.”
“You haven’t given them a chance.”
I stare at Noelle. Trust me when I say telling her no is a feat of monumental proportions. She’s one of the sweetest people I know. I live to make her smile. But the idea of a week in a remote cabin with Liam’s friends is not my idea of how to spend my winter vacation.
“The fact that I’m going to be alone over the holidays didn’t feel pathetic until this moment,” I say on a sigh.
“What does me inviting you to spend a week with your best friends and Liam and his group of friends have to do with being pathetic? You have people who want you to spend the holidays with them. That’s completely un-pathetic.” Noelle bobs her head once as if the movement is some form of punctuation.
“I always thought I’d have a man of my own to spend the holidays with by now.” I glance up from my spot on the floor to where Noelle is sitting on my couch curling a ribbon with a pair of scissors.
“I can’t believe I’m twenty-eight years old and still single.” I confess. “Not that I hate being single.”
Noelle’s face looks like she’s comforting one of her second graders after no one picked her for a team during recess.
“Don’t get that pitying face. I’m good. I love my life.”
I do. I love my life.
“I know you do. You’re always gathering people and coming up with adventures and memorable things for us to do. You work at a job you love as your own boss. You’re close with your family. It’s a good life.”
“A wonderful life.” I wag my eyebrows at Noelle and she giggles.
“That’s the spirit. Quote Christmas movies all day long. And say yes.”
I feel my mouth tug into a lopsided smile. She’s not going to give up easily.
“Anyway, I was saying, I don’t need a man. A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.” I pause. “I read that on a poster somewhere.”
“I don’t need a man either,” Noelle says in her typically cheerful voice. “But I sure am glad I have one. With the right one, you discover something deeper than needing someone. Like, your life was good, but suddenly it’s infinitely more, all because of this man who fits you and your life just right. It’s worth waiting for the right one.”
“Says the woman who had the right one literally show up on her doorstep.”
Noelle beams. “Only becauseyouordered him to show up there. Maybe I ought to order you a man.”
I lift my head to meet her gaze, fully intent on dissuading her, and she winks.
“Oh, no. No. You do not need to order me a man. And please, tell me you aren’t trying to fix me up with one of those cretins Liam calls friends. He’s definitely the cream of that crop. The rest of them seem like oversized frat boys.”
“They’re not that bad.”
“Uh huh. Yeah. Remember the time I stopped by with you on a Sunday afternoon so you could drop off your Mother’s Day gift for Liam to give to his mom for you? He was at that one guy, Carson’s, house. They were all sprawled on couches with pizza rolls, Doritos and Lit’l Smokies on platters on the coffee table, whooping and shouting at the TV. Not one of them blinked when we walked in. No one offered us a drink or aplace to sit. That guy, Carson, actually had Dorito dust on his T-shirt.”
