Eggnog & Evergreen

01 • Aloha, Aloha

Glistening water droplets fall to the bar as my thumb glides across the vodka club in front of me. As the door swings open and lets in the biting December air, I begin to regret my decision. Steaming hot toddy was clearly the right choice.

I covet it zealously as Jules lifts it to her lips.

"Delish," she says, fanning her blonde hair over her shoulder. Always so glam.

"Mhmm, girl." Jayden agrees.

I'm sitting at a ritzy downtown bar with my two co-workers. By day we strategize online social media marketing. By night? We drink at ritzy downtown bars.  It's a quick pep-drink and precursor to my date with Preston later.

Ah, Preston. My hopefully soon-to-be fiancé if all goes well this Christmas.

"Still cannot believe he's taking you to Hawaii, Noe," Jayden insists. His eyes glow up when he talks about Preston. Can't blame him.

"Um, we are taking each other, thank you," I joke, squeezing the lime into my glass.

"Last year LA, year before that was, what? Somewhere abroad?" Jules asks, lips smacking.

"Paris," I mumble somewhat bashfully into my hand.

"Ah, old Paris," Jayden mocks a fake French accent.

"It's tradition," I say. "We love the holidays. Always pick a new place to experience it." It is the truth, honest.

Ever since I met Preston Wells three years ago, back when I was working as a paralegal temp in the same law firm where he scored his first job, we've been equally obsessed with the holidays. I'm an only child and I don't visit home often (or at all), and he's from a large family with tons of traditions. I was welcomed right away.

As soon as I saw him, I knew he was it for me. Everyone who sees him wants him -and I was no exception. Like a striking 20-years-younger Idris Elba, his presence was warming and intense and I was instantly smitten. So was Jayden.

Preston was everything I ever wanted -handsome, family values, long-term career oriented, and metrosexual before it was even socially acceptable.

All suits all the time. Dressed to the nines.

Here for it.

"When's he meeting you again?" Jules asks, eyes searching the bar. Jules is always on the prowl.

"Around 9," I answer. "He had a late wrap-up. Finishing prep for closing the trial."

"Oh, look at the fancy lawyer speak from a once-paralegal," Jules laughs.

"Didn't you have that job for six days, Noe?" Jayden asks, checking his reflection is his phone camera.

"Um, seven! Don't shortchange me."

My vodka club is almost drained and I restrain myself from ordering a second. Preston and I are going to a celebratory dinner for him finishing his last case before our holiday vacay.

My phone lights up with his beautiful face smack in the middle of my caller ID.

"Ugh, A-lo-ha is right." Jayden stresses every syllable looking longingly at Preston's pic.

"Yeah, I'm inside at the bar. You almost here?" I ask into my phone, ignoring Jules and Jayden's obscene gestures.

"I should totes be going to Hawaii over you," Jayden says.

"Hey!" I punch his shoulder. "This is my time, let me have it."

"I'm just saying, Pacific Islander. It's like basically my culture," Jayden says.

"You were born in Brooklyn," Jules interjects, eye-rolling.

"She's not wrong," I agree.

"Hashtag let me live," Jayden says, snapping a selfie with his toddy. "Hashtag hot as this toddy."

My phone buzzes again, this time with texts from my New York bestie and ex-coworker, Deja. Asking about how big I think the diamond on my ring's going to be.

Yes, Deja is convinced Preston is popping the ultimate Q on our Christmas getaway. She's not the only one.

Me, I'm 100% convinced.

...

Preston texts me when he's walking up the block.

"Show time," I exclaim, slipping from my bar stool.

I readjust my heels and shimmy my sweater dress down to show some tasty yet socially tasteful cleavage. I tussle my cinnamon brown waves and await my tall, dark, and handsome prince charming.

Preston walks through the door, brushes off some stray snowflakes, and instantly catches the eyes of the ten nearest women (and men).

"Love that for you," Jayden whispers in my ear.

"Down, boy," I tease.

"Noelle," Preston says, kissing the top of my head. He looks at my friends behind me. "Hi guys."

"Mr. Wells," Jules says, formal. She likes to throw his prim and proper lawyer persona back at him.

"Preston, looking fine as ever," Jayden says.

"Guilty," Preston smiles a half smile.

"Hi babe." I slip my hand beneath his coat.

My head burrows into his cashmere scarf and I try to drown myself in his Chanel cologne.

"See you guys." I say bye to Jayden and Jules, both sitting forlornly at the bar.

"Ready?" Preston asks, reaching for my hand.

"Sure am," I say.

I pull on my peacoat, smacking the poinsettia's leaves as I do so. It's like it's growing out of the coatrack.

We step out of the warm and cozy bar and onto the bustling streets of NYC. Ah, NYC at Christmastime.

We walk through the slush from the day-old snow, circumventing oncoming traffic and drunken vagabonds.

I snake my arm through his and silently revel in the moment. We may be braving the freezing temps tonight, but this time next week we'll be hand-in-hand in Hawaii.

"Noelle," Preston says, abruptly. He lowkey stops on the middle of the sidewalk.

"What is it? Did you forget something at the office? Forget our rezzy? Or just want to skip dinner and go right to dessert?" I smirk.

After another minute of static silence (not including the traffic), I start to worry. Is he proposing now? Is this is?!

"Babe, what's wrong? You're freaking me out," I say, nervously laughing.

"I'm sorry, I think we need to skip dinner," Preston says. "I think we need to skip it all actually."

"Dessert?" I joke.

"Hawaii."

"WHAT?" I choke back my surprise, unsuccessfully. I think I'm having a heart attack right on this overcrowded street.

"The trip. This year. Well, actually. I want to break up," Preston says, matter-of-factly.

"Break up?" I say the words slowly, like I'm trying to chew them up and taste them as they destroy my tongue. "Break. Up. As in not be together."

"That would be the insinuation, yes," he says.

"That would be the insinuation," I repeat to myself in a whisper. "What the hell is happening?"