Page 1 of An Unexpected Christmas
Frankie
The Grinch next door
There’s something insanely satisfying about coming home to my little house covered in Christmas lights. The chill of the night air nips at my cheeks as I step out of my car, but I secretly love that feeling. It’s the same thrill as waking up to snow or falling in love. Okay, I’m not saying I’m in love with my house, but… well, I might be. I’ve spent years making this place my own. Nothing can dampen the pure, unadulterated joy that lights me up from the inside.
The display this year is my best yet. Every inch of my little two bed is adorned with twinkling lights that shift between warm white and festive red, green, blue… even pink, so sue me, I love a rainbow. Strands of lights outline the windows, the roofline, and even the railing of my pink porch. It’s like Santa’s grotto exploded and decided to settle right here in Holly Creek.
And I couldn’t be happier. It doesn’t even matter that I’m dead on my feet after delivering a set of triplets today—a pre-Christmas miracle for some first-time parents. I was there to witness it, to help bring those three beautiful lives into theworld, and, as much as I love my job, this moment, coming home tothis,is its own kind of magic.
My face hurts from smiling as I take it all in. I might have gone a little crazy this year, not just with the house but with the lawn too. A new addition graces my yard: a sleigh, glowing with a cute little red Santa, being pulled by a set of reindeer equally lit up. It’s absolutely adorable, and it might have cost more than I’m willing to admit, but who cares?
Did I need to buy it? Absolutely not. Did I want to? Yes. And I have zero regrets. Every time I glance out my window and see that sleigh sparkling under the winter sky, it reminds me of being a kid again.
Who cares if my next few dinners consist of instant noodles? I’ll be happy, sitting by the window, gazing at my glowing masterpiece while slurping cheap ramen. That’s enough for me.
My phone rings in my pocket, the buzzing cutting through the quiet of the street. I pull it out, squinting at the screen, and see Lainey’s name flashing. My best friend and favorite co-worker. I swipe to answer, pressing the phone to my ear. “Did I forget to fill in paperwork, or do you just miss me?” I say without a hello.
She chuckles immediately, the sound warm and familiar. “You forgot to sign off the baby girl from yesterday. Little baby Noelle. So, Kathy did it instead. But Idomiss you. I hate it when our shift pattern is opposite.” She pauses for a beat. “Are you home now?”
“Yes,” I say as I step onto my porch, jingling my keys in my hand. “And let me tell you, Lainey, my house looks so good right now. It’s like a Hallmark movie threw up on it, and I’m not even sorry.”
“Send me pictures. When do you leave for Boston?” she asks.
“Day after tomorrow.”
“Oh shoot.” There’s a commotion in the background. “I gotta run. Room thirteen is pressing the buzzer again. I’ll text you later.”
Before I can reply, she’s gone. The hospital is crazy busy this year, a baby boom like never before, but after tomorrow’s shift, I have six glorious days off.
I’m heading to Boston to spend the holiday with my parents. My sister lives there too, and she’s bringing my nephew, who is still so tiny and adorable. I’m planning on soaking up all the baby cuddles.
I’m just about to head inside when there’s a low, unmistakable grumble behind me.
Ah, yes. That would be my neighbor, thesexiestgrumpiest man in Holly Creek, Denver: Sam Nicholas.
He’s wrapped in a long, dark wool coat that looks expensive but well-worn; the kind you’d see on someone walking through a misty English countryside. A scarf loops haphazardly around his neck, the ends fluttering in the icy breeze. His hair, dark and perpetually messy, looks like he’s just run his hands through it in frustration, probably because of me.
We’ve been exchanging words for the last few weeks, ever since my lights went up. It seems I inadvertently awakened the Grinch within. Before ‘light-gate’ he seemed like a quiet, pretty decent, very hot neighbor.
But now I realize he’s just a butthead who hates Christmas and fun.
His hazel eyes narrow as he takes in my house, and for a moment, I wonder if the lights are physically hurting him with the depth of his scowl. He stands there, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched, bracing the chilly air.
“Do you mind?” he finally says, his voice rich and low with the kind of British accent that could make someone swoon if it wasn’t dripping with irritation.
I blink, caught off guard for a second, not by his words, but by the way the lights cast a soft glow over his sharp jawline and the angles of his cheekbones. For someone so perpetually annoyed, he’s annoyingly handsome.
“Mind what?” I ask, feigning innocence as I clasp my hands together, keys still clutched.
He gestures toward my house. “The lights. The… whatever that thing is on your lawn.”
“It’s a sleigh,” I say, smiling sweetly. “And reindeer. You know, like Santa’s.”
“Yes, I know what itis.What I don’t understand is why it has to be so…bright.” He squints as if the lights are actively burning his retinas.
“Well, it’s Christmas,” I say, shrugging. “What’s the point of decorating if it’s not a little over-the-top?”
He mutters something under his breath, and I catch the words “over-the-top” and “ridiculous.”
