by Robyn Neeley
Just days ago she had seen him leaving Bath Jewelers with a gift bag in hand and had ducked into an alleyway so he wouldn’t see her. She’d always dreamed about getting engaged on Christmas Eve just like her grandparents had. Christmas was a special holiday for the Turners.
Brad’s squad car pulled into the driveway. She squealed with excitement and took one last glance in the mirror, approving her last minute change from her family’s mandatory Christmas sweater to a formfitting winter white one, dark jeans, and brown riding boots. A much better outfit to say the all-important “yes” in. Brad would love it. Dabbing her lips one last time with gloss, she headed to greet her man.
From the top of the banister, she could hear the sound of many voices talking over the Christmas music. Christmas Eve was the biggest day of the year for her family—her parents ran a Christmas tree farm, and every Christmas Eve they provided Christmas trees for those in need. The evening always ended with a celebration at the Turners’ with the volunteers who’d helped out throughout the day. It would be wonderful to share her good news with all of her family and friends.
Amanda made her way down the spiral staircase taking two steps at a time. In the foyer to her right, groups of her mother’s volunteers chatted and munched on Christmas cookies. They were all wearing matching red sweaters with tiny embroidered Christmas trees on the front. The same as the one she ditched upstairs. She moved into the living room. Over by the fireplace were Brad’s fellow police officers. Her parents stood near the tree.
Her father greeted her. “Hi, honey. Everything okay?”
“Hi, Dad. Everything’s fine.” She scanned the crowded room, her heart beating rapidly. “Great turnout tonight. Have you seen Brad?”
“He’s over there under the mistletoe.” Her mother nodded toward the foyer entrance. “Better go kiss him before your grandmother does.” She chuckled.
Amanda laughed. Her mother adored Brad. She had let it slip this week that he had stopped by to talk to her dad.
She nudged Amanda. “Looks like Quinn is enjoying Mark’s company.”
Amanda spotted her older sister on the sofa laughing it up with Brad’s older brother. What a flirt. They were both teachers at Hammondsport High School. She was glad he was here. The Sullivan brothers were very close. They had lost their parents at an early age and were raised by their grandparents. Unfortunately, both grandparents had since passed away. Amanda’s parents had always treated both Brad and Mark like family. Soon Brad would be an official member. She smiled, watching her sister flirt back. Maybe someday Mark would, too.
Amanda grabbed a candy cane from a dish on the coffee table and twirled it with her fingers. It wouldn’t be long now. The sleigh was ready. Her family and friends were here to celebrate afterwards. Amanda guessed there had to be at least fifty volunteers in the house, if not more.
Amanda whispered to her mom. “I think it’s time.”
Her mother grinned.
Amanda tucked her hair behind her ears and headed toward the hanging mistletoe. Brad, who was still wearing his police officer uniform, greeted her with an uncomfortable expression—he wasn’t one for crowds. She had fantasized about this very moment for five years, but never in her fantasy was he wearing his police duds or looking as disheveled as he did now. He was still incredibly handsome, with his brown hair, chocolate eyes, and square jaw.
She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Tradition,” she chirped, pointing to the mistletoe.
Brad shifted, appearing uncomfortable. “Hey. Can we talk outside for a minute?”
“Sure.” Amanda grabbed the duffle bag with the blankets. Her eyes caught her mother’s, and she raised her hand nonchalantly, touching her ring finger.
Her mom hurried over to the large bay windows. Amanda knew her mother planned to have a front row seat to the proposal.
She followed Brad outside and shut the front door. The frigid air immediately hit her face. It was a perfect winter’s night. She’d remember this feeling for a long time to come, and one day tell the story to their children and then their children’s children. She smiled at the thought.
“Amanda, I wanted to wait until after Christmas, but, um . . .” he stammered and looked away. “Oh, man. This is really hard.”
She nodded. “I know.” Grabbing his hand, she gave it a reassuring squeeze. Brad wasn’t the best with words but Oh, man. This is really hard wasn’t quite where she had envisioned he’d start. Hadn’t he practiced?
“Why don’t we go down to the sleigh?” she suggested. “I have some blankets in the bag.”
“I think here is fine.”
Her gaze darted over toward the living room windows. Her parents quickly turned their backs. Their blatant attempt to witness the proposal was so transparent. She should’ve just brought a row of chairs outside and charged admission.
She linked her arm with his. “Come on, honey” she coaxed. “It’s so beautiful down there with the lights.”
Brad broke their link but then grabbed her hand. His eyes were fixed on her.
Something wasn’t right. His hand shook in hers. Was he really that nervous? She would just have to put Brad out of his misery and get engaged on the porch. That was fine. With the twinkling white Christmas lights outlining the house, it was still pretty romantic, plus her family would have a better view of the proposal.
“Whatever you need to say, I’m listening,” she reassured him. “Let’s just step over here.” She moved to the right, a better angle for her family to see. She noticed the backs of her brother and sister were now next to her parents’.
Brad sighed again. “You mean the world to me . . . I . . . um . . .”
“Is there something you want to ask me?” She didn’t know how much longer she could stand out in the cold without the blankets or his body to snuggle up to. If he couldn’t spit it out, maybe they could get engaged inside by the fireplace. Good Plan B.
Brad pulled his hand away and jammed it into his coat pocket. “Amanda, you are wonderful and we’ve had a lot of great times together.”
This was it. She watched as he fished around his pocket. The ring must be really buried in there. She could see her younger brother, Alex, watching with a smart aleck grin.
Brad continued. “I guess what I’m trying to . . .” He took his hand out of his pocket. The small object fell out of his shaky hands into the snow. He bent down trying to find it.
Before she knew what she was doing she blurted out, “Yes I will marry you, Brad Sullivan.”
She looked down. Her eyes widened. Brad was not holding a ring but a small key. Her apartment key. “What is this?” she asked.
“I think we should take a break.”
Just then the door flew open and her family burst out. She glanced around in horror. All of the guests had congregated in the foyer. Many of them holding plastic champagne glasses.
Her father slapped Brad proudly on the back. “Congratulations, son. Welcome to the family.”
Her mom came over and hugged her. “Let me see. Let me see.” She grabbed Amanda’s hand. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Dear, where is your ring?”
Humiliated, Amanda rushed into the house and up the stairs to her room.
• • •
It had only gotten worse from there. The news that Brad had bought an engagement ring but then changed his mind and dumped her on Christmas Eve had spread like wildfire. Daily errands were torture; the whispers and glances of pity were just too painful. She needed a fresh start. A month later, she landed the job in Wilmington and didn’t look back.
But while her relationship had ended that night two Christmas Eves ago, a new one began. Quinn started dating Mark, and they eloped in Las Vegas six months later. They were now about to have a baby. The fact that Quinn was now Brad’s sister-in-law was difficult for Amanda to swallow. There was no clean break. Her family tried to be supportive and encouraged her to come home this Christmas. She’d thought she was finally ready to do it. Until now.
S
he knew it was a mistake earlier this year to accept Brad’s friend request on Facebook. This proved her theory that one should never friend her ex-boyfriend until both were happily married—and even then, one should reconsider.
“Thanks a lot, Alex,” she mumbled, annoyed at her brother for sending the text in the first place. Was he trying to give her a heads-up? He could have called to break the news.
“I’ll have another, please.” Amanda waved her empty wine glass and glanced up at the mounted television. Their explosive local story had made national news. “I really need to get out of this town,” she muttered.
“Excuse me?” The bartender picked up her glass. He was wearing a Santa hat.
“Oh, nothing.” She pointed at his head, changing the subject. “Do they make you wear that?”
“Nah, I just like to get into the Christmas spirit.” He grabbed a bottle of wine, refilling her glass.
“Christmas spirit,” she echoed dryly. She remembered that feeling. It was only two years ago that it was her favorite time of year—two heartbreaking years. “Thanks.”
She took a long gulp and went back to brooding over Brad’s status update. What if she ran into him and his fiancée this weekend? Oh, God. What if she knew her?
“Hey, Santa, think you could bring me a boyfriend to take home this weekend?” she asked sarcastically. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of a man in a suit. She knew its owner immediately.
“Why, Ace, are you taking resumes?”
She spun around and shook her head. Tate had taken the empty seat next to her. Her knees briefly touched his. “What the—where did you come from? Are you following me now?” She drank her wine. “I hate you,” she mumbled.
“I’ll take that as a no.” He pointed to her fresh glass. “I see you’re celebrating. Mind if I join you?”
She pushed off her seat. “Sorry, I was just leaving.” Her legs wobbled, and she felt a little tipsy. When had she become such a lightweight? She sat down to regain her equilibrium. “On second thought, I was here first.”
The bartender came over. “Sir, can I get you anything?”
“A stocking full of coal would be appropriate,” Amanda interjected sweetly. She glared at Tate and raised her finger directly at a group of women on the other side of the bar who were looking their way. She suspected they were gushing over Tate. Most women did.
“See that cougar in the tight sequined silver top and black hooker stilettos? I’m sure she’s one of your fans. I’d bet my paycheck she’d love to have the great Tate Ryan make her night.”
Tate nodded to the woman and pulled Amanda’s arm down. She felt his hand linger.
“I think I’ll pass.” He signaled the bartender and said, “Hey, buddy, could I get a Manhattan?” Then he turned back to Amanda. “Okay, talk to me, Mandy. Why so glum?”
“Don’t call me that. My brother calls me Mandy, and I’m angry with him right now, too.” She stood once again and reached for her purse, determined this time to get away from her co-anchor. “I think I’ll get a table—for one. Merry Christmas, Tate,” she said flatly.
She walked over to the dining area and scanned the room for an empty table. There was one near the window. She plopped down in a chair.
Tate sauntered over.
“Oh, no. No, no.” She raised her hand in protest. “You are not sitting here.”
“Look, you can’t still be angry with me for what happened earlier.”
“Why can’t I?”
“Ace, you know I didn’t sabotage you.” He pulled out a chair and took a seat.
Amanda sighed. “I know.”
“Listen, let’s order some dinner. My treat. I’m starving, and I’ll bet you are, too. We’ll eat, and you can tell me why you’re here drowning your sorrows because this can’t all be my fault. Start from the beginning. I’m a great listener.” He scrolled through his iPhone. “Was it really that bad of a day?” he asked, glancing up.
“You can’t be serious. You did not just ask me that.”
Tate shrugged. “It’s one story. There will be others.”
“Not like this one.”
“You really believe that?”
Amanda shrugged. “I don’t know what I think anymore. Let’s just order. Will you promise to leave me alone after we eat?”
“Deal. Okay, where to begin? All right, why do you hate me? No. Wait.” Tate jerked his hand up in the air in a halt. “Don’t answer that. Let’s start with a softball question. Why do you hate the holidays?” He grabbed the other menu on the table.
“I don’t hate the holidays.”
Tate smirked. “Amanda, you pretty much tell anyone who wishes you a Merry Christmas to go to hell.”
“That’s not true.”
“Not to mention I had to twist your arm for you to do the kick-off story on this year’s toy drive.”
“That hardly makes me a scrooge. I agreed to it, didn’t I?”
He pointed at the window. “Speaking of toys, did you see that huge Santa and sleigh on the flatbed truck in the parking lot? It’s filled with all kinds of fun things. What do you think they’re doing with all those toys?”
Amanda followed his gaze out the window. In the darkness, she could just make out a life-size Santa and sleigh. God, she hated sleighs.
She could also see Tate’s reflection in the glass. The man certainly knew how to wear a suit. Why did he have to be so incredibly good looking? His eyes met hers, causing her cheeks to warm. She glanced away and reached for the breadbasket. “Does it really matter?”
“I’m just trying to lighten the mood.” He flipped his menu to the other side.
She sighed. He was right. It was common knowledge around the station that she wasn’t a big fan of the holidays.
“You’re right. I do get somewhat uptight this time of year,” she admitted. “I was planning on going home tomorrow, but now I don’t know—”
Tate looked up and interrupted. “You’re not going home for Christmas? Why?”
“I don’t know what to do. My mother will kill me if I don’t. My older sister’s about to have a baby.”
“Everything okay?”
“With her, yes. It’s just I received some unsettling news about my ghost from Christmas past.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.” She slid back in her chair and took a drink. “It’s just hard to be single during the holidays, I guess.”
Tate studied her. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type of woman who gets down in the dumps for being single this time of year.”
“I’m not.” She paused. “Well, maybe I am a little. You think you’re headed down this precise path to achieving all of your carefully planned out goals—good grades, great college, solid career, the guy, perfect marriage, great sex—”
“Why, Ace, I could help you with that last goal.”
Amanda rolled her eyes. Of course he could. She continued, “Adorable kids and a nice house.” She sat up in her chair. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy in Wilmington. I’ve got a wonderful career, good friends, and my beautiful beachside condo bought and paid for. It’s just . . . I don’t know. You think everything is on track and then a—”
“Teleprompter jams,” he finished.
Her eyes started to water. “Something like that.” She immediately looked out the window to hide the evidence. Tate could not see her cry.
“So how long has it been since you’ve been home?”
“Two years.” Amanda grabbed a piece of bread and broke it apart.
“That’s nothing. What’s kept you away?”
“Long story.” Amanda grimaced and shoved the bread in her mouth.
“Might help to talk about it.”
She swallowed. “If you must know, my boyfriend of five years dumped me two years ago on Christmas Eve in front of all my family and friends.”
“Ouch.”
“Tell me about it.” She picked up her glass and swung it up in the air. “Then I get a
text tonight telling me to check my Facebook, and guess what?” she asked, her voice rising. She didn’t wait for Tate to respond. “The bastard’s getting married!” She slammed her glass down. “Freakin’ engaged.”
“Is it really the end of the world?” Tate motioned for the waiter to bring Amanda a glass of water.
“Clearly you’ve never been in a relationship.”
“You just said you were happy here.”
“I am.”
“Are you still in love with him?”
“No.” She shook her head. “He might have broken up with me, but I realized we really weren’t meant to be. It’s just . . .”
“Just what?”
Amanda stared at Tate. Why was he so interested in her love life? “I guess I don’t understand why Brad gets to have his happy ending before me. Two years ago he didn’t want it.” Her eyes watered. This time she couldn’t hide the evidence as one tear slid down her cheek. “At least not with me.”
Tate grabbed a napkin from the table dispenser and handed it to Amanda. “Let’s turn this around.”
“How?” She sniffed, dabbing her eyes.
“Okay, here’s how I see it. Your sister is radiantly pregnant and about to pop out your mother’s first grandchild. Is your brother in a relationship?”
“Yes, with my best friend from high school.”
“I see. It’s all making sense. There you will be at Christmas dinner, sandwiched between both couples. You have a great career and some would say a pretty good life here down south, but the humiliation of what happened with Brad will be the unspoken elephant in the room all weekend. Am I painting an accurate picture?”
With each stroke of his verbal brush, he certainly was. “I think you should order your dinner to go,” she said icily. It had obviously been a bad idea to share her love life with Tate.
“I think I can help—no, I know I can help you.”
“Help me? How?”
