Meet Me Under the Mistletoe

by M. Robinson

  Santa Baby

  Claire Contreras

  Chapter One

  Vanessa

  I turn my phone over when I see the text message from my ex-husband come in.

  “Miss V, I don’t get the assignment.”

  “All you have to do is get a hanger,” I say to the fourth graders looking up at me. “A percha, you know?” I wait for them to nod. It’s a predominantly LatinX classroom and so I switch back and forth constantly. “You paste a paper in the middle and draw a book cover. Then, hanging from it with strings, you tell me what the story was about. Who the characters were, etcetera.”

  “What’s a percha?” Rodney asks from the back of the classroom.

  “A clothes hanger.”

  “A gancho?” he asks. “That’s what you mean?”

  “Oh my God,” I mumble under my breath. “Sure. Whatever you call it is fine, Rodney, that’s not the assignment. The book report is.”

  “Miss V. What happened to Mr. Adam?” Anabelle asks in a sweet tone and for some reason it brings tears to my eyes.

  “Mr. Adam is fine.”

  “He hasn’t been here this year at all,” one of them says.

  “Yeah, will we be able to use his 3D printer again?” another asks.

  “The assignment, guys,” I say again. “Please focus.”

  That’s the gift and the curse to teaching the same group of students two years in a row. Life happens behind the scenes, and since they only get a glimpse of what I show them, they don’t realize how many things change. In the beginning of their third-grade year, I was happily married. By the end of it, I was divorced and miserable. Thankfully, my sister and her husband took me all around Europe so that I could forget about things. Unfortunately, I’m back in the Heights and back to a reality I can’t quite escape. Oh, and Mr. Adam keeps calling me, of course. It doesn’t matter that I haven’t answered his phone calls for the last eight months, he just keeps them coming. I can’t imagine what he needs to talk to me about. If he wanted to know how I was doing, all he needed to do was ask his parents, whom I see every week without fail. My parents fill me in on how he’s doing without my asking, so it’s only fair. Our friends think we’re both insane, dating new people, but still keeping up with each other’s families. Maybe we are, but I can’t imagine not having his parents and sisters in my life and I guess he feels the same about mine. We have an agreement though—we never visit at the same time. It’s the only way. I don’t know how he feels, but I know I’m not ready to see him again.

  “Miss V, do you think Mr. Adam will bring his Frenchie?” the question comes from Manya and it’s the one that finally makes me break down.

  I try, I really do, to hold in my tears, but it’s impossible. Luna the Frenchie was my baby too, but he kept her as part of the divorce and I miss her so, so much. Thankfully, the school day is over and the kids are out of my classroom after my meltdown and I spend the rest of the time apologizing to them and then their parents, who are incredibly considerate and offer me their sympathy since they know about the divorce.

  Chapter Two

  Adam

  My parents are traitors.

  My entire family, actually. My nephew, Moishe, is having a birthday party and my parents told me I could only attend from noon to two o’clock because after that was Vanessa’s turn. Fucking Vanessa. I swear she’s going to torment me until the end of time. I say this aloud to my friend Chris, who shakes his head and laughs.

  “You two are a fucking mess.”

  “There is no us two. We don’t even talk. She won’t even answer my phone calls to discuss this ridiculousness!”

  “That’s because she knows you’re dating Cindy.”

  “How does she know that?” My heart stops. “Who told her?”

  “Who cares?” Chris shrugs. “You’re divorced.”

  I search his face for a moment to make sure he’s not hiding anything underneath the thick beard on his face, and then I focus on my beer. If Vanessa knows I’m dating Cindy, that means she’ll probably go and date someone as well, and if she goes and dates someone while I’m dating someone, it means the chances of us getting back together are slim. Slimmer than they were before. For some wild reason, that sends a piercing shock through my heart.

  “You do realize you got a divorce, right?” Chris asks. I meet his gaze again.

  “Obviously. I’m paying her every month.”

  “I thought she declined that?” He frowns.

  “You are some nosey motherfuckers.” I roll my eyes. “I send the money to the school for supplies and aftercare and shit.”

  “For . . . other kids . . . even though you made it clear that you didn’t like or want any kids, which was the reason for the divorce to begin with . . .”

  “I know it sounds ridiculous.”

  “Like I said, you’re both ridiculous. You were made for each other, whether you want to see it or not.”

  “Well, the way she signed those papers and got out of the room as fast as possible that day would say she doesn’t agree with that sentiment.”

  “And the way you brought it up to begin with says you do?” He narrows his eyes. “Because that’s what I heard.”

  “So? She kept talking about kids and kids and kids and I don’t want kids, so what was I supposed to do? Keep pretending? I’m not an asshole.”

  “You kind of are, but whatever.” Chris finishes off his beer and sets down the glass. “So, the gala. Are you going this year? Take Cindy.”

  “Is Vanessa going this year?”

  “I haven’t asked.”

  “Well, let me know when you know, and depending on that, I’ll think about it.”

  “What difference does it make? The Morellis are throwing it, so you know it’ll be huge. It’s the only gala we’re ever invited to where we don’t have to make a major donation.”

  “Anything that involved Lucian Morelli involves a major donation.” I raise an eyebrow.

  “We should still go. When they extend an invitation, it’s always best to comply.”

  “Are you taking Emma?”

  “Of course. You know she’s obsessed with that gala.”

  “Hm.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t feel right taking Cindy. It’s too new.”

  “Too new?” Chris eyed me. “Or is it that you’re not as into her as you wished you were?”

  “I’m into her.”

  “Yet you keep texting Vanessa.”

  “What do you all do when you get together, do you sit around in a circle and tell each other all the gossip or do you text each other throughout the day? I’m curious.”

  That makes him laugh again. “You’d know if you were still part of the circle.”

  “I would still be part of the circle if you hadn’t banned me from attending poker nights.”

  “Hey, take it up with your sister. I said you should be welcome.”

  “And Emma chose my ex-wife over her own blood.”

  “The kids love Vanessa.”

  “The kids love me. I’m their uncle.”

  “You’re a boring uncle. Let’s be honest. When did you become such an old man?”

  I focused on my beer again because that was the very question Vanessa threw at me during our last argument and I didn’t have an answer then and I don’t have one now. The only thing I’m certain of is that I need to break things off with Cindy. As incredible as she may be, it’s unfair that I’m having all these doubts about letting Vanessa go.

  Chapter Three

  Vanessa

  I glance at my watch for the third time since arriving at the café. I’m supposed to meet my sister, Camila, here, but she’s nowhere in sight and she’s not answering her phone. I try texting again.

  Me: where the hell are you?!

  Cami: Just meet me at our usual booth!

  I roll my eyes and set my phone away in my back pocket, looking up to tell the hostess that we have a reservation under my sister’s name, Camila
Silva. She and her husband practically own this place, as often as they eat here, and thus have a designated booth. I mean, it helps that her husband is one of the biggest soccer stars in the world, something that our baseball-loving family didn’t really have an appreciation for at first. That was, until we started getting the perks one gets from having such a distinguished family member. Not only that, but he’s also the biggest sweetheart. When I divorced Adam Hirsch, it was Warren who paid for me to explore Europe for the summer. I felt special until I found out he’d also paid for Adam to go to some of his league games and sit in the box level.

  When I reach the booth, I don’t find my sister, but Adam instead, and my heart practically explodes in my chest.

  “What the—” I take a step back.

  “Wait.” Adam stands up quickly. “Please wait. I can explain.”

  “Yeah, I figured you could.” I take out my phone and text message my sister one word: TRAITOR, before setting it away again. “What the hell, Adam?”

  “I’m sorry, okay?” He runs his fingers through his dirty-blond hair. It’s longer now than it was. He looks like a hot surfer from California or something, not the IT god that he is, and despite myself, my heart skips a beat. “You’ve been ignoring my calls and I didn’t know how else to reach you.”

  “Don’t you think I’ve been ignoring your calls for a reason?”

  “Can you just . . . can we sit? For a minute? Let’s have a meal together, coffee, whatever.” He searches my eyes quickly. “Please?”

  “Fine.” I sigh heavily and slide into the booth beside us. He does the same, sitting across from me, even though this is a semicircle.

  “Thank you.”

  “Yep.” I pick up the menu and scan it even though I know what I’m getting.

  “You don’t get Nutella waffles anymore?” Adam asks.

  I glance at him over the menu. “Maybe I like to switch it up.”

  “Since when?”

  Since never, that’s the real answer. I’m a creature of habit and he knows it, but still, what if I did want to switch it up? I roll my eyes and set the menu down.

  “What do you want, Adam?”

  “I want you to be my date to the gala.”

  I blink. “You’re joking.”

  “We always go together.”

  “We didn’t go together last year.” I raise an eyebrow.

  “You didn’t go at all last year.” He cocks his head. “Come on, Van.”

  “No. Dude, we are divorced.”

  “I am well aware.” He buries his face in his hands and rubs his face twice as if it’ll change anything. When he looks at me again, those piercing blue eyes hold me hostage. “The divorce was a mistake.”

  I let out a shaky laugh. “You’re joking.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You were the one who initiated the process. You were the one who wanted out. You were—”

  “I never wanted out. I wanted to give you an out and you took it.”

  “Well, yeah, I didn’t want to stay married to someone who didn’t want to be married to me.” My voice cracks as I say the words, my eyes fill with unwanted tears. I really thought I was past the emotional state when it came to this, but apparently I was wrong. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “Well, I do.”

  “You could’ve said all of this before we signed the papers. Before we hired lawyers. Before we—”

  “I paid for your lawyer.”

  “I know.” I roll my eyes. “That’s not the point.”

  “I only asked for the damn divorce because you were so adamant on wanting children and I knew that was going to mess us up sooner or later.”

  “You took a job in California without consulting me about it,” I say, and realize I’m probably shouting now when he winces. “I mean, what the fuck?”

  “I only took that job because . . .” He frowns and stops talking suddenly, then exhales. “I don’t know, Van. It felt like we were over before I took that job.”

  “It didn’t feel that way to me,” I whisper. “But it’s fine. I’m fine, Adam. I’m happy you have a killer job.”

  The server interrupts our conversation, and because I’m so caught up in it still, I order my usual after all. So much for trying to be hardheaded and prove him wrong. When she walks away, Adam smirks and I roll my eyes once more.

  “The divorce has been great for me,” I say, “I traveled Europe with my sister. I met so many people I probably wouldn’t have met and overall I’m pretty happy, so I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me and I definitely don’t hate you, if that’s what you’re worried about, but I don’t really want to be your date to anything.”

  “I figured you’d say that. Emma told me I should ask anyway.”

  “Of course she did.” I shake my head. “Your sister is something else.”

  “But you love her. You see my family more than I do.”

  “Hey, I wasn’t the one who moved all the way across the country.” I shrug a shoulder. “Who am I to turn down your mother’s famous schnitzels? Besides, you go to my parents’ house every time you’re in town.”

  “Well, who am I to turn down your mother’s mangú?”

  “So basically we’re just a bunch of divorced foodies who can’t not be around each other’s families.” I smile. “I mean, we did always say we’d stay friends no matter what.”

  “Exactly.” Adam slaps the table. “Exactly. That’s why I’ve been calling and texting. I miss my friend. We’ve known each other since we were kids, Van. You’re the only reason everyone at our high school thought I was kind of edgy.”

  That makes me laugh. “They didn’t think you were edgy. They were just willing to overlook what a major nerd you were.”

  “Same difference.” He shrugs with a wide smile on his face. “Either way, people stopped messing with me the minute you started walking the halls by my side.”

  “That’s because I grew up with all those hoodlums and I knew all of their mothers.” I thank the server for the coffee she sets in front of us, then look back at Adam. “Jody’s son is in my class.”

  “Jody Donovan?”

  “Yep.”

  “You’re kidding. Is he still doing petty thefts?”

  “Nope.” I laugh. “Jody is a pastor, thank you very much.”

  “What?” Adam’s mouth drops. “No way.”

  “I know. I didn’t believe it either at first, but then he came in with his wife and their other son during meet-the-teacher and he invited me to his church. He’s really turned his life around.”

  “Good for him.” Adam smiles, shaking his head. “I guess I have to forgive him for stealing three of my bikes.”

  “He asked about you. He said he’d heard we’d gotten married.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, he was tooting your horn until I told him we got a divorce and then I believe his exact words were ‘well, bless his heart for letting a woman like you go.’”

  Adam takes a sip of his coffee and looks away.

  “Like I said, I’m glad we’re not together anymore.”

  “I’m not.” He meets my gaze again. “I’m not glad, okay? Every single day I wake up and go to bed wishing I could take it all back. Every single thing.”

  “Well, you can’t.”

  “What if I can? What if I told you I wanted another chance?”

  “I’d tell you that you’re crazy.”

  “About you, yes,” he says. “Two years ago, I made the biggest mistake of my life. Let me make it right.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Of course I can.”

  “You can’t, Adam. What’s done is done.”

  “No. Don’t say that.”

  “I don’t know what you expect me to say. You moved across the country, you took our dog, you didn’t even go to couples therapy with me when I asked, you just decided you were done and I was left to deal with my broken heart.”

  “It seems like your broken heart di
dn’t last long. I saw the pictures of you with that footballer.”

  “Which . . . Titus?” I laugh. “He’s a friend.”

  “Didn’t look like that in the pictures.” Adam scowls.

  “Oh, you want to go there? What about Cindy? Does she even know you’re having this conversation with me?”

  Adam blushes and looks away again and the server gets here just in time to interrupt this portion of the conversation and sets our food down in front of us.

  “May I have some hot sauce, please?” he asks. She reaches into her apron and sets down a small hot sauce. “Thanks.”

  “So, Cindy,” I say again. I’ve never seen a picture of her but I hate her so much just knowing she’s been with him. Not that I would ever say that to him or anyone for that matter.

  “Cindy and I are over.” He looks up at me as he sprinkles hot sauce on his eggs. “I broke it off.”

  “Let me guess, she wanted kids?” I raise an eyebrow.

  Adam flinches. “No. We never got into that conversation.”

  “Lucky her.”

  “Not lucky her, Vanessa. Do you know that we fought every fucking day we were together because of you?”

  “Because of me?” I let out a laugh. “I wasn’t in your life.”

  “But you were in my mother’s. My sister’s. My niece and nephew’s.”

  “So you should have told them to tell me not to come around anymore.”

  “My family loves you more than they love me at this point.” He sets down his fork with a clink.

  “Funny, I feel the same about my family.”

  We both stare down at each other for a silent moment and I feel every single ounce of anger that I tried to push down during these last two years resurface. Instead of saying anything else, I stab into my waffles and start eating. I can’t with him right now. I can’t with the ridiculousness of this entire conversation. I decide I’ll have my meal, leave, and put this encounter behind me. When we promised we’d always be friends no matter what, we obviously didn’t take into account all of the crap we were going to pile on each other through the years. All that baggage, all that history, as cool as it is to have when you’re happily together, comes with a price when you’re not. History easily turns into contempt. When we’re outside, Adam turns to me again.