Page 113 of Elf-ish

Work has been hectic, to say the least, and the late nights and early mornings didn’t leave me much spare time to foster whatever is between Angelica and me. Because there definitely is something happening between us. Something I’d like to continue to explore, but I didn’t know how.

Thankfully, before I said something foolish, I did something sexy and dirty. To my surprise, Angelica went along with it.

Because I trust you.

Fuck. The statement was equal to saying she loved me, which would not, could not happen. We had a deal.

Deals are meant to be broken, she once said. Even fake ones.

I wasn’t worried about breaking a deal as much as her breaking my heart.

I’ve never really listened to wedding vows, but I listened wholeheartedly to Beau and Belle’s. Love, honor, and respect. Good times and bad. Sickness and health. Until death parts them.

I want to do all those things with Angelica. I wanted to be good enough, but I still didn’t feel that I was.

I’d fallen for her. Hard and fast, and rather completely, and it scared the fuck out of me that she might not feel the same way in return. I needed to end things before she ended them for us.

Still, I wanted one more night.

In A Christmas Carol, Ebenezer Scrooge is visited by three ghosts on Christmas Eve. The experience transforms him, and his changes begin on Christmas Day.

My epiphany happened the day after Thanksgiving because of a heart attack, and the bargain I made to an angel.

Being that I’m still a devil inside, though, I intend to steal one more night.

Christmas Eve, we are open for those late-night, last-minute shoppers, however, our doors close at eleven. I’ll be here until midnight. While most might think I’m sitting up in my tower office, punching numbers into a spread sheet, and tallying Ashford’s profits, I’m not. I’m thinking about one hot, redheaded EMT.

911. I text her.

What’s wrong? Angelica had to work a double today to make up for her shift change on December twenty-third. She already explained the holiday scheduling of the department, and how she always takes Christmas Eve night to give parents time to do their thing for their kids.

Possible heart attack.

I rock back in my comfy desk chair, knowing I shouldn’t be joking about a health scare with an emergency medical technician.

Jude, you need to call 911 for real.

A pause.

I’ll do it for you.

NO!

No ambulance.

Only you.

Another pause follows before three dots pop up and disappear.

This isn’t funny. What’s going on?

A broken heart.

The ticker is tightening in my chest. She’s my only solution. Just one more night. Christmas will be my reset like it always is. A day where I do nothing but drink my weight in whiskey and stare at mindless television, attempting to unwind from the hustle and bustle of the season.

Meet me at Ashford’s State Street entrance. Midnight.

Last night, Angelica did sit on my lap like a woman on Santa. Her green velvet dress was pooled at her waist, blanketing where we were connected. I held her in a way she faced my wall-to-wall windows. Our reflection mingled with the winter night’s glow from the city streets of Chicago, and we watched as I entered her.