I hugged her. “Thanks, Mom.” I practically skipped out of the garage. Now to see what I could do to book a flight, a hotel room, and a car.
An hour later, I had my plans together. All I needed to do now was confirm my date.
My date. The thought made me hug myself with excitement. Ten days seemed too long. I would spend it wondering what he looked like.
Now that I had my plans together, it was time to write and tell him. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been excited about a date.
And no one in my family knew. I hoped like crazy that he didn’t live in Bristol. Everyone knew the Dragomirovs, the crazy Christmas family. Everyone knew my brothers, all wild and dangerous until they met a woman who brought sanity and balance to them. Everyone knew that if they were not nice to Natty Dragomirov, one of the brothers would give you hell.
No one had a chance to know me because they already knew all they needed to.
I didn’t want to tell anyone about me signing up for a matchmaker’s service, because they’d all protest I didn’t need that, a pretty girl like me! And that they knew the perfect guy.
I wanted to choose my own perfect guy.
The thought that I might be a couple of steps closer made me giddy.
I was going to meet him on Valentine’s Day!
Now to let him know.
Christopher
I got up from my desk, my mind on the website that just wouldn’t load right, to answer the knock at the door. I hadn’t heard from Christmas Elf yet, and I was nervous she was trying to get out of meeting.
To my relief, it was the FedEx guy, and he had an envelope from What the Heart Wants Agency. She wrote back. The website could wait.
I tore open the envelope and there it was: her floral stationery. When I opened her letter, I stopped, closing my eyes.
Please let her say yes.
Dear Shy Guy,
I would love to meet you on Valentine’s Day. I’ve made arrangements to take time off work, and I’ll be there. But I don’t know what you look like, and you don’t know what I look like. So I’m bringing a Santa hat, which I will be proudly sporting.
I can’t wait to meet you. I think Grace is on to something—I’ve loved writing these letters to you and getting your letters.
Until next week.
Christmas Elf
Oh my God. She’d agreed. I felt my heart race, and my palms began to sweat. I had wanted her to agree, but now that she had, I was committed.
What if she didn’t like what she saw? What if I got nervous and stuttered all over the place? If I couldn’t talk? She wouldn’t even know it was me.
Oh my God. She’d agreed.
I needed to write her back right now, to let her know that I’d be there, even though it seemed sort of obvious, since I’d asked her to meet me there.
But I needed to write her, so I didn’t lose my nerve. And I needed to get my hair cut. And figure out what to wear. And make sure to get her flowers. And see about making a reservation for dinner. She might want to get something to eat.
Then again, she might not.
I wiped my hands on my pants. Why did this have to be so hard?
Because even though we’d never met, even though I had no idea what she looked like, how she laughed, what color her hair was — nothing — I liked her.
I liked how she wrote, how she had thrown in glimpses of who she was to the cheerful and chatty letters she’d written. I wanted to meet her, to get to know her in person.
Oh my God. This was going to happen. Before I could talk myself out of it, I raced to write a reply. Maybe I could get a pick up scheduled today, so this would get to her as soon as possible.
I wrote the letter. I wasn’t able to schedule a pick up, so I took it to an office, so it had a good shot of getting there the next night.
Then I went home and shelved the idea of getting any more work done. I didn’t even know if I’d be able to work for the rest of the week.
I’d be counting the minutes before the cocktail party.
I was actually excited, like I hadn’t been in ages.
I couldn’t wait to meet her.
Nat
Two days after I sent Shy Guy my letter, one showed up for me. That had to be good, right? I hurried off to my room and sat down to read what he had written.
Dear Christmas Elf,
I’m so glad that you want to meet. I know we haven’t been writing for long, but I agree that Grace matched us well. I haven’t felt this much excitement about meeting someone in quite a while. Since you’re wearing the Santa hat, I won’t be able to miss you. Not that I want to.
See you soon,
Shy Guy
That was short and sweet. But he must have sent it out right after he got my letter, and that could only be good. He was as excited about this as I was.
I spent the next week finding the perfect outfits. The cocktail party would be at five, so maybe we’d want to do dinner afterwards. That would be nice. And even though Valentine’s Day would be during the week, I arranged to go home two days after the party. I wanted the chance to go out with him again if we really hit it off.
I got my hair done. I didn’t do much with it, but I had the ends trimmed up. Then I packed, taking my time with all the things I needed, and the things I thought I might need.
My mom came in while I stared at my suitcase. “All this for a trip for research?”
“You never know who you might meet, Mom. And I’m going somewhere where no one knows me. I need to make a good impression.”
She was quiet for a moment, then she said, “Well, that makes sense. I know we haven’t traveled a lot, but you can see why now. I’m glad you’re taking some time for yourself, Nat. You deserve it. By the way, you want to come with us to dinner at Cate’s? She invited us all over tonight.”
Seeing my brother and my friend would be the perfect distraction. “Yes. That sounds great.”
My mom smiled and left.
* * *
Dinner was nice. Cate and Aleks were so obviously in love, and it was almost like my brother was a different person. He was relaxed; more at ease. He was comfortable. Cate was too. I realized that she had always been busy, always moving, on the go. With Aleks, she seemed calm, less restless.
After dinner, I went into the kitchen to help her clean up. “Thanks for inviting me,” I said.
She smiled. “Thank you for coming. I like having you guys around. It’s like my family got a lot bigger. It makes it easier, too, since my parents moved to Florida.”
“You guys seem happy.”
“We are. I know Aleks didn’t behave well at first, but he was hurt. And that hurt came up again when he thought I was going to leave.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” I laughed. “I’m the one who called him an asshole.”
“You’re a good sister to him.” She smiled.
“How did you know?” I asked. “After all the time apart? And all the drama?” Aleks and Cate had dated in high school, and he had ended things because she wanted to go away to college. He was a jerk, and when she’d come back after school, he’d nearly ended them again. Personally, I thought he ought to kiss the ground she walked on, but I kept that opinion to myself.
“I knew when we first dated that he was special. And same thing when I came back. But he’s…” She stopped.
I realized she didn’t want to share things about my brother that he’d shared with her, and the thought warmed me. “A pain in the ass. But now he’s yours.”
She looked relieved. “Yes, he’s mine. To answer your question, I just knew. On the surface, it doesn’t make sense, but I knew.”
I sighed.
“What is it?” Cate asked.
“Can I tell you something that you will keep to yourself?”
Her brows furrowed. “Sure. Are you all right? Like, I’m not keeping a bad secret, am I?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. You know this research trip I’m taking?”
“It’s not research. I’m meeting a guy.”
“What?” she whispered, coming to take my hand and lead me to the window seat on the other side of the kitchen. “What guy? How did this happen?”
“I signed up for a matchmaking service, and we’ve been writing letters. The service does a cocktail party for people to meet, and I’m going to meet him.”
“What’s he like? What’s his name? What does he do?”
“He is kind. He gets me, at least I think he does. I keep writing more in the letters than I mean to, and when he writes back, he responds in the best way. I don’t know his name, or what he looks like.”
“Really? Aren’t you nervous?”
“Yes. Very. I’m so nervous I feel like I’ll pee my pants or something. But it feels right.”
“Then go for it. If it’s not right, you’ll know. If it’s right, you’ll probably know.”
“I already bought the tickets. No backing out now. And why only probably know?”
Cate grinned as she stood up. “Because we always talk ourselves out of the good stuff. We wallow in the bad shit and doubt the good stuff. Try not to doubt. I’m going to send you good luck vibes.”
“Thank you.” I stood up and hugged her. “I’ve been dying to talk to someone, but…” I jerked my head toward the living room where my family sat. “You know.”
“Indeed I do. Your secret is safe with me. One thing, though.”
“What?”
“You have to tell me everything when you get back!”
“Deal,” I said, and we headed out to bring coffee to everyone.
* * *
I stared at myself in the mirror. Because it was Valentine’s Day, I was wearing a flirty red dress. It was knee length, and it had layers and a ruffle-y feel that made me feel very feminine. It had a scoop neck, not too low cut, and it gave off the right amount of sex appeal without being overtly sexy.
Not that I was trying to have sex that night, but I wanted to look sexy.
I had decided to leave my hair down, and it cascaded down my back. The dark hair looked good against my dress. I wasn’t used to seeing my hair down—it was often in a bun, or a pony tail to keep it out of the way. I put the Santa hat on, tilting it a little so it, like the dress, looked flirty.
God, I hoped he would like me. I hoped I would like him. I had so many hopes that it made my heart flutter like a bird caught in a cage.
This was someone I sort of knew. It was going to be great. I touched up my red lipstick, grabbed my purse, and headed off to meet my hopefully Mr. Right.
Christopher
I was running late. It was after five-thirty. The party would go until seven, but I wanted to be there early, so I’d have a chance to catch my breath, and prepare myself. That didn’t happen, and I could feel my nerves rising and cresting like the waves in front of a hurricane. I’d been so excited to meet her, but now that the moment was here—I was a wreck.
I’d mentioned to Grace when I saw her last week that we were meeting at her cocktail party. She’d grabbed my hands and said, “I am so happy for you, Christopher! Bonne chance!”
It was time. I took another breath and walked into the hotel ballroom that had been booked for this.
The room wasn’t big, but there were about thirty or forty people milling around. There was an air of awkwardness and hope around everyone there. Myself included.
A group of people burst into laughter over near the bar that had been set up in one corner of the room. I started to make my way around the room, looking for a girl with a Santa Claus hat. As I approached the noisy group near the bar, I saw the hat.
Underneath the hat was the most gorgeous woman. She was shorter than me, but tall for a woman. She had long, dark hair that flowed down her back, and it moved and caught the light as she talked. Her skin was pale and clear, and she had dark eyes. The red dress she wore hugged her body without being skin tight, and the hem kicked up around her knees.
She was beautiful.
This was Christmas Elf.
She was talking with a group of men and women, and her smile was wide and bright. Her lips were bright red, and I could tell that she was genuinely interested in the people she was talking to. Some of them drifted away, because this was a party for couples to meet, and Christmas Elf stood alone for a moment. She looked around, and the look on her face changed. It was intense.
She was looking for me. Then someone near her said something, and her face lit up again. She laughed and talked like she didn’t have a care in the world.
I turned away, trying to calm my nerves. That was Christmas Elf? The most gorgeous woman ever? She was so together, so polished, so at ease.
She was so out of my league.
I hurried away, away from her and out of the room. I couldn’t do this. I could feel my stutter coming back, like the uncle you don’t want to come to the family dinner. It was there, waiting for me to try to talk, to make a good impression. And then it will tie my tongue, and it won’t matter what has come before.
She’d be disappointed and turn away.
The men’s room was close, and I ducked in and leaned against the far sink. I was sweating like I’d run a race, and my face was pale.
“You can do this,” I told myself quietly.
She’s not shallow. She’s looking for the same thing you are. She’s here because she wants to meet you. You made this happen, you did. It was all you. You, just as you are.
I stared at myself and then splashed some water on my face. As I dried off my hands, another man came in and smiled at me.
“Isn’t this great?” he said.
I nodded and escaped. I didn’t need any extra conversation just then. I headed back to the ballroom and made my way to where I had last seen her.
She wasn’t there.
Oh, shit. Oh, shit. I looked around wildly and then took a breath. She must have just walked somewhere else. She’d been waiting for me for a while. I scanned the room, looking for a Santa hat. The DJ played a slow song, and a few couples move to the small dance floor. I did a lap around the room. She wasn’t there.
She might have gone to the ladies’ room. I took a seat at one of the tables set for two and waited, my eyes moving back and forth across the room.
At seven, the DJ shut down the music and Grace approached him and took the microphone.” ” I want to thank you all for coming out. I hope tonight was as wonderful as you wanted it to be.” She smiled and handed the microphone back.
And like that, the event was over.
Christmas Elf never came back.
I blew it.
Nat
I barely made it to the hotel room before the tears started to fall. He didn’t show. He didn’t show. After building me up and acting like he was as into this as I was, he didn’t show. I waited for an hour. Made conversation with all the people that were hanging around the bar which also earned me the stink eye from a couple of women who seemed to think I was hitting on their men. While it didn’t matter in the big picture that hadn’t been pleasant to manage at the moment.
I’d looked and looked around the room for a guy who was looking for someone, too. But everyone else seemed to find their someone pretty easily.
Everyone except me.
My phone buzzed, and my heart jumped until I realized that we hadn’t shared numbers, or anything like that. It couldn’t be him.
It was a text from Cate: Thinking of you! Followed by a number of heart emojis.
At that, I gave in, and lay on the bed. I cried myself to sleep.
He didn’t show.
* * *
The next morning, I got up and got ready, packing my bag. My flight didn’t leave until tomorrow morning, but I had a few things to do today.
When I’d packed, I’d brought my stationery. I didn’t know why, but it felt right to add it to my carry-on. I pulled it out and began to write.
The first letter was to Grace. In it, I told her that Shy G
uy had stood me up, and that I felt that while we’d seemed to make a connection, it hadn’t come to anything. I was requesting no further contact after this last letter for him.
I had to shove the letter away, so I didn’t cry all over it. It was so stupid! I’d never met him, and we’d only exchanged a handful of letters. But I felt like something had been there; that there was a chance of something more.
Not now.
All I could think was that he’d come, and seen me, and left. He wouldn’t have just stood me up. If he couldn’t be there, wouldn’t he have told Grace? So she could let me know? That’s what you did. You let people know.
So his not sending any message sent the message loud and clear. He didn’t want to meet. He’d either changed his mind, and didn’t want to reject me to my face, or he’d shown up and seen me, and left because he didn’t like what he saw.
Neither one of these was good for me. I wish he’d just come to me and found a way to meet me and leave. That way, at least I’d know.
But he hadn’t. The tears started again as I tried to write a letter to him. I wanted him to know that… what? What did I want him to know?
That he’d hurt me? That I’d started to open my heart up, just a little? Show him the real me? And he’d rejected me?
I couldn’t say all that. It was pathetic enough as it was that I’d walked out of there alone last night. Everyone else had been paired up, beaming and holding hands, and I’d been alone.
No, I needed to just cut the tie, and give this a chance to heal.
It was going to be harder than I’d imagined. I’d built this up into something big in my head, and to find out that it wasn’t hurt more than I thought it would.
Damn him.
I texted Jyn, a fellow Spar Island girl. She lived in Chicago, and she was living a life I couldn’t even imagine. She went out every night, partied with local bands, and then got up and went to law school during the day. She wrote columns about the band for a Chicago paper and taught sailing in her spare time. She was amazing.
Dear Shy Guy: The Matchmaker Series Page 3
