(Not So) Alone for Christmas: A Sweet Romantic Comedy Holiday Novella

by Jenny Proctor

  “That’s amazing. What’s your favorite thing to bake?”

  “Cookies, definitely. There’s just so much you can do with them. I mean, the fact that you can take the flavors of pretty much any dessert in the world and distill them down into a single bite-sized cookie? It’s like magic.”

  “Maddy, why aren’t you baking for a living? It obviously makes you happy. You should go for it.”

  I kept my eyes on my plate, busying myself with a bite of ambrosia so I wouldn’t have to answer him.

  “Come on,” Bo prompted. “What’s keeping you from just doing it?”

  I shrugged. “Fear, probably? And a lack of working capital. It’s just not that easy. I have a job. And I have that job because I have bills to pay. Student loans to pay off that I only have because I got a degree to do the very job I have. It would seem like a waste, wouldn’t it? If I stopped using it?”

  “Who cares? You wouldn’t be the first person who gets a degree in something they never use.”

  “Maybe not. But I’m not just any person. I had a plan, I followed through with the plan, and now I’m living the results of the plan. It’s the way I’ve always done things.”

  “I’m all about a good plan. But are you happy?”

  It was a dumb question. I liked my life in Chicago. I had Jenna. And my job was a good job. “Of course I’m happy. I have a good life.”

  “Okay. Let me rephrase. Does what you do make you happy? I think you’re a happy person by nature, but when you specifically think about being in a second-grade classroom for the rest of your career, does that make you excited?”

  I wasn’t sure I’d ever actually considered the thought. “Sure,” I finally answered, though my voice was anything but enthusiastic.

  Bo looked at me, his fork frozen in his hand. “Wow. Way to convince me.”

  I shook my fork at him. “It’s not that easy! It’s just a job. I like it well enough, but there are plenty of other things in my life that make me happy.”

  He pursed his lips. “Okay, but now think about baking every day. How does that make you feel?”

  A tiny thrill buzzed through me.

  Bo chuckled. “You don’t even have to answer,” he said. “Your eyes just sparked and lit up while I watched.”

  He was almost as convincing as he was charming, but he was still oversimplifying things. “You make it sound like I could just decide to be a baker overnight. That isn’t how the real world works. There are business licenses and expenses and storefronts and workspaces and supplies and . . . and risks.”

  “Yes. To all of those things. But you’re smart, Maddy, and you’re good at what you do. Why not try?”

  “Sure. Why not? If we ignore the fact that I already have a great job in Chicago. If I were going to start anything, I would probably have to move home and live with my parents—I for sure wouldn’t be able to afford living on my own if I was trying to open a business. Starting from absolute scratch in a city that is already full of successful bakeries and restaurants? It would be crazy.”

  Bo grinned. “What’s life if you aren’t taking risks?”

  I scoffed. “It’s my life, thank you very much. And I like it just fine the way it is.”

  Bo was silent for a long moment. “Change might be good though, right?” he said, a question in his eyes.

  Change as in . . . moving back to Charleston change?

  I was too chicken to ask him if that’s what he meant.

  “You want to go up to the farm with me tomorrow?” he asked. His eyes sparkled with a pride that I envied. It was clear Bo loved what he did in a way that I didn’t.

  His suggestion that I take my baking more seriously hovered in the front of my mind. It was easy for him to say it. Bo was the kind of person who saw what he wanted and took it. But it had never been that easy for me.

  “I would love to see your farm,” I said, meaning every word. Maybe spending a little time in Bo’s world would rub some of his optimism off on me.

  He leaned over and kissed me softly on the lips, his still a little salty from the ham he’d only just finished. “As soon as the roads are drivable, we’ll go.”

  We cleaned up our mess from our late lunch, storing Edna’s leftovers in the snow on the back porch. At least that was better than hurricane-caused power outages when the weather was warm and muggy and humid. Before Mom and Dad had a generator installed at the house, we’d thrown away more than one fridge-full of spoiled food when the power had stayed out for more than a few days.

  “Hey, do you hear that?” Bo asked. “Is that Christmas music?”

  I froze, straining to hear. When the faint sound of We Wish You a Merry Christmas met my ears, my eyes went wide. “Is that Mr. Christoff?”

  Bo walked toward the sidelights on either side of the front door. “It can’t be. He wouldn’t be driving with the roads as bad as they are. I nearly slipped ten different times walking Edna home.”

  “What else could it be?” I raced past Bo and climbed the stairs, hurrying down the hall to the balcony doors. Sure enough, as soon as I was out on the balcony, I could see Mr. Christoff’s van moving slowly down the street, decked out with tinsel, garland, and flashing Christmas lights. Speakers were attached to the roof of the van, Christmas music filling the snowy Charleston streets. Mr. Christoff, a neighbor a few houses over, had been using his van to spread a little bit of holiday cheer for as long as I could remember. Every year, he’d decorate his van and drive it slowly up and down the neighborhood streets, waving and greeting neighbors as they came out to say hello. This year, the only new addition to his van was a set of burly looking chains on each of his four tires.

  The sight almost brought tears to my eyes. I hadn’t had too much time to think about being disappointed that Christmas hadn’t turned out exactly like I’d hoped. Bo had kept me too distracted for that. But enjoying this small taste of my childhood was a welcome joy I hadn’t known I needed until it was upon me.

  Bo stepped onto the balcony behind me, draping a coat across my shoulders.

  “Thanks.” I tugged it tighter around me even as Mr. Christoff slowly approached. The song ended, transitioning to something a little slower—an instrumental version of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.

  I stilled and closed my eyes. Of all the songs . . .

  “Dance with me?” Bo whispered into my ear.

  I turned to face him, slipping my arms through my coat before taking his outstretched hand. “If someone had told me ten years ago that one day I would dance on a snowy balcony with Bo Bradshaw, on Christmas day, no less, to the very song I had dreamed of impressing him with, I’d have said they were crazy.”

  “It was this song?”

  I nodded. “It took me three years before I could listen to it again without feeling embarrassed.”

  He held me a little tighter. “I’m so sorry, Maddy.”

  I smiled, shaking away his apology. “It’s okay. Now I’ve got a new memory to replace the old one with.”

  “Will you . . .” He hesitated, then lifted one shoulder in a playful shrug. “Sing it for me now.”

  A pulse of fear radiated through my gut. “I . . . no.”

  “Please?” he said, leaning down to catch my gaze, unleashing his charm at full strength. “As a Christmas present to me.”

  The man was practically impossible to refuse. “You really are insufferable, you know that, right?”

  He shrugged, that easy, confident grin filling his face. “I won’t make you. But I would love it if you did.”

  I took a deep breath, listening to the song long enough to catch the lyrics. Slowly, tentatively, I picked up the melody, singing only loud enough for Bo to hear. He pulled me against him until my head rested on his shoulder as we danced, which made it easier. I never would have been able to make it through the song had he been staring at me the entire time.

  When the song finished and Mr. Christoff turned at the end of the street, sharing his Christmas cheer with a different p
art of the neighborhood, Bo leaned back, holding my gaze for a moment before pressing his lips to mine; the fervency in his kiss nearly took my breath away.

  “I’ve had a lot of good Christmases, Maddy,” Bo said, his forehead still close to mine, “but I’m not sure any of them can compare to this one.”

  “You think?” I said, still breathless from the kiss.

  Bo smiled. “Please don’t tell my mom. She’d probably never forgive me.”

  Chapter Seven

  The power turned back on late the following afternoon. I’d been minutes away from crossing the street to take Edna up on that offer for a shower. I’d braved a cold one the night before, but it had been icy enough to leave me chilled for over an hour afterward. It wasn’t worth going through that again.

  But then the house shuddered to life, making my sojourn across the street unnecessary. After my shower, Bo blissfully reported that the streets were drivable and suggested we head out for a few groceries.

  I was ready for an outing, but also nervous over the prospect of going anywhere with Bo. We’d been living in a sort of dream world where we only had to interact with each other. Would it be weird going out in public? Would we still treat each other like a couple? Were we a couple?

  When Bo took my hand on our way into the grocery store, I took it to mean we were, and the thought thrilled me all the way to my core. I’d dreamed of this very thing back in high school. Going somewhere on Bo’s arm. Being recognized as the girl he had picked.

  We shopped lazily, browsing every aisle in the grocery store, only picking up the things that looked delicious to both of us. “How do you feel about navel oranges?” Bo said. “Are you in the mood for oranges?”

  “I’m always in the mood for oranges. I’ll pick some out.”

  I left Bo browsing the bread aisle and went back to produce on my own to grab a bag of oranges.

  “Maddy Royal.”

  I spun around. My best friend from high school, Sophia, stood with her hands on her hips, a wide smile stretched across her face.

  “Hey!” I said. I crossed to where she stood in front of the apples and gave her a hug. “It’s so great to see you!”

  “So you’re home from Chicago, I take it,” Sophia said. “How’s your family?”

  “In Hawaii, actually. For Christmas.”

  She paused. “Oh. But . . . you aren’t?”

  “It’s a long story. I was supposed to be, but with flights shut down, I wound up snowed in here.”

  “Oh, your poor thing! Have you been alone? You should have called!”

  I glanced over my shoulder, anticipating that any moment, Bo could wander over. Sophia knew better than anyone the depth of my early high school devotion to Bo. “Actually, weirdly enough, I’ve been with Bo.”

  Sophia’s mouth gaped open. “Bo Bradshaw?”

  “My parents hired him to housesit and take care of Izzy while they were gone, but then I flew in to surprise them, not knowing they were surprising me with a trip to Hawaii, and then the snow . . .” It was more explanation than she needed. “Anyway. Weird random events, but yeah. We wound up snowed in for Christmas together.”

  “Oh my word. I bet that’s been pure torture for you. Has he changed at all? Or is he still as big a jerk as ever?”

  My forehead wrinkled. Sophia had heard more of my heartbroken complaining than anyone else, but the vitriol behind her words was surprising.

  “I, um, he’s been nice. We’ve actually—”

  “Listen. If you need a way to escape, totally use me. I’d love to have you crash with me for a few days until your family gets back, or until you go back to Chicago. Either one. It would be so fun to catch up.”

  “That’s really sweet of you to offer, but—”

  “Don’t even mention it. Anything to save you from having to spend more than one unnecessary minute with Bo Bradshaw,” Sophia said, emphasizing her words with a dramatic eye roll.

  “Did Bo do something to offend you, Soph? I mean, I know I wasn’t too happy with Bo our sophomore year, but that was a long time ago.”

  “Oh.” Her gaze darted away for a quick second. “I guess we never really talked about Clemson, did we?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What happened at Clemson?”

  Sophia suddenly looked really uncomfortable. “Look, it was a long time ago, but we dated for a little while right before he graduated, and . . . let’s just say I’m not surprised he never paid you any attention back when we were in high school. The man only has eyes for himself. I’ve never dated anyone so selfish. Honestly, it’s so good nothing ever happened between you two. He would have been horrible for you, Mads. ”

  “What does that even mean? Why?”

  She pursed her lips in thought. “Let me put it this way. Bo is a life-of-the-party kind of guy. He needs a woman that’s willing to fight for her place at the table, know what I mean? Someone who can command a room as well as he can and fight to get her opinions through his thick skull. Otherwise? Any woman he dates is going to get overshadowed and ignored.”

  Well, that made sense. If there was anyone in the world who didn’t want to be overshadowed by anyone it was Sophia. It was why we’d always gotten along. I was perfectly content to be the quiet sidekick to her much shinier star. It didn’t surprise me she’d felt threatened by someone like Bo.

  “You’re just too sweet for him,” Sophia said with a shrug. She glanced over my shoulder and her eyes widened before she looked back at me, her expression morphing into a strange cross of excitement and disgust. “Maddy! You didn’t tell me he was here with you.” She made a sound low in her throat. “I did forget how fun he is to look at.”

  Bo stopped behind me, his hand shooting out to give mine a tiny squeeze, so quick I doubted Sophia had even noticed. “Sophia,” Bo said. “Merry Christmas.”

  She smiled at him sweetly. “Good to see you, Bo.” She shot me a look. “Don’t forget about my offer, Maddy,” she said as she gripped the handle of her grocery cart. “You just call if you need me.”

  “Thanks,” I said, still unsure what had just happened. “I will.”

  “What was that about?” Bo asked as I dropped navel oranges into the cart.

  “Um, your dating history, I think?”

  Bo sighed. “Oh. Right.”

  “Seriously?” I said, not even sure I could make eye contact at that point. “You dated Sophia? She was my best friend.”

  “To be fair,” Bo said, “I didn’t know you’d ever had feelings for me at the time. And it was only for a few months.”

  “Yeah. She told me.”

  “Your face is suggesting she told you a few other things, too.”

  Curse him for being able to interpret my expressions so clearly. How did he do that? We’d only spent four days together, and he was already reading me like a marquee sign.

  “Hey.” Bo stopped the grocery cart and took my shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  I wasn’t. Knowing that Bo had dated Sophia was a weird, unsettling reality that left me feeling more than a little off-kilter. It didn’t matter. Not really. Sophia and I had grown apart our last year of high school and hadn’t really kept in touch once I’d gone to Chicago and she’d gone up to Clemson. I wasn’t deluded enough to think that dating my high school crush four years after the fact was any reason for her to check in and make sure doing so wouldn’t hurt my feelings. And like Bo had said, he couldn’t be sensitive to feelings he hadn’t known I had.

  But for whatever reason, it still stung knowing he’d picked Sophia. He’d seen Sophia in a way that he’d never seen me. Not until now, anyway, but I still wasn’t sure what had developed between me and Bo was even real. Would it exist outside our snowed-in Merry Christmas bubble?

  An even worse question crossed my mind. If Bo had seen me at a party, a room full of people, full of women, would he have noticed me then? Or did he only see me when I showed up at my parents’ house because I was the only option?

  And what about the other th
ing Sophia had said? That I was too sweet for Bo. What did that even mean? It didn’t fit with the version of Bo I’d been spending time with the past two days, but again, we hadn’t exactly been living normal life.

  I pushed the raging thoughts aside and smiled at Bo. “Sorry. I’m good. That was just . . . a strange encounter. I haven’t seen Sophia in years.”

  “Sophia can be a little bit of a whirlwind, that’s for sure.”

  We were quiet while we walked toward the self-checkout lines. “Why didn’t things work out between you guys?” I asked, willing my voice to sound chill and relaxed.

  Bo started lifting items out of the cart, scanning them then handing them to me so I could drop them into bags. “I don’t know. It just never felt right, I guess.”

  I nodded. “I guess that happens sometimes.” Wanting to be as honest as possible, I turned to face him. “She said I should be glad nothing ever happened between the two of us.” I motioned to him then back to myself. “That you would have been horrible for me.”

  “Wow. That’s a glowing recommendation,” Bo said dryly.

  “I can’t figure out what she could possibly have meant.”

  Bo sighed. “Sophia . . . had a strong personality. I’m just not sure the two of us were compatible. But that doesn’t mean I’m not compatible with someone like you. You and Sophia are very different.”

  I had to at least admire that he wasn’t willing to say anything truly negative about my friend. That alone spoke to his character, though I could read between the lines well enough. Bo also had a strong personality. It made sense that he and Sophia would have clashed. But what about me and Bo? Did that mean I wind up being his sidekick, too? Was that what I wanted?

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning was clear and crisp, cool enough to wear a coat, but warm enough that the snow still covering half the roads in Charleston had turned to a soupy slush.