We move to the parlor after dinner. My dad puts an old Christmas record on the vintage-looking phonograph. Someone needs to tell him it's 2021.
The slender candles drip wax all over the silver holders on the coffee table. Red and green knitted blankets are spread out on the back of the couch. I'm careful to sit on the opposite side of the room as Nik.
"How about a little night cap?" My dad asks.
"That would be lovely," my aunt says.
Even Nik smiles politely at my dad's invitation.
I decline the warm eggnog and instead pour myself a fourth glass of wine. It's making me feel nice and cozy. I almost don't even mind that I'm 27 and single, home for Christmas, and sitting across from a lumberjack in my parents' living room!
It's more useless conversation about nothing. I grin and bear it, counting down the minutes until my aunt and uncle and (foremostly) Nik finally leave.
Before long, my glass is empty again. I know from my name buzzed nights with the Js and Deja, that this is my limit. I'm seeing straight, but everything has a nice little blurred edge. I steal a glance at Nik and see he's rolled up the sleeves on his sweater. His arms... look like you'd imagine a lumberjack's would.
One more glass won't hurt anybody.
I make a quick pitstop at the hall powder room to check on my hair and reapply a little lip color. The whole bathroom smells like sparkling balsam and berry.
As soon as I return to the living room, I find it empty -almost empty. Apart from the Santa figurines and ornamental snowmen, Nik is the only other person in the room.
"You came back," he says, standing as I reach the couch.
"I did," I say looking around. "Though I didn't come back to much."
"They're in the den. Something about presents," Nik tells me, reading my mind.
"I was just looking for-" I pause, picking up my empty glass.
"This?"
I spin around and Nik is holding up a bottle of white wine.
"Thank you," I say as he fills my glass.
With no one else in the room, I feel obligated to at least sit on the same couch as him -albeit several feet away.
"Can I ask you something?" Nik asks, his voice low and raspy.
"No, tonight was not entirely horrible." I smirk.
"I was going to solicit the truth," Nik says, ignoring me. "As to why you'd let an ex-boyfriend ruin your entire holiday vacation."
"Well, that's blunt." I say.
"It's just -hearing about your job and your life back in NYC. Doesn't seem like a boyfriend would mess up those plans."
"A boyfriend wouldn't. It was the dumping me part that sort of messed up my plans. Messed up my whole 5-year plan."
"Maybe you should try living without any plans," he says.
"Hence my no plans tomorrow," I say, aware I'm leaning in.
"Come with me tomorrow," Nike says. He places his eggnog cup down and looks at me, earnest.
"Why? Why's it matter so much if I go?" I ask, giggly. EW.
"As I'm sure you've noticed and maybe even pointed out once or twice -I don't have a lot going on. Spreading the Christmas cheer is sort of compulsory for me."
"And why is that?"
"I have my reasons." He shakes his head.
I can faintly hear my parents in the other room, but I'm completely zoning everything out besides Nik -Nik and his creamy cable sweater and deep voice and ugh!
"I don't know. I really don't want to celebrate or be cheerful or-" I bite my lip thinking.
"Come on. I could make you forget about hating Christmas." Nik puts up quotation marks around hating.
"You think?"
"I bet you."
"What?" I laugh, almost spilling my glass all over Nik's dark jeans.
"I bet you that you can have a good time tomorrow," Nik says. "Delivering trees, with me. If I'm right, you have to admit you still love Christmas."
"And if you're wrong? What's in it for me?"
"Bragging rights?" Nik shrugs, smiling lopsidedly. "A few hours out of the house?"
"You're wrong. So wrong that I'll go on your stupid sleigh tomorrow just to show you I'll hate it." I say, matter of fact.
"I'll take it."
...
I draw a bath and crawl into the steaming water, still reeling from my night cap with Nik. He wants to make bets with me. He has the audacity to presume that I let a boyfriend, or lack of a boyfriend, run my life.
He just doesn't understand!
Preston understood the five-year plan. Well, I thought he did. I pull my phone from the tub's edge and open to Instagram. I watch Preston's story several times, self-loathing washing over me like it's filling the tub instead of the water.
Why do I feel gloomy and giddy both at the same time? Like I still miss Preston, but maybe tonight wasn't a complete bust after all?
The five (or six) glasses of wine are screaming inside me, begging to take over the reins.
I text Deja and Stella, recapping our private one-on-one night cap, and my impending not-a-date with Nik. I spend way too much time thinking about what I'm going to wear.
By the time I settle in my cozy bed, I'm sobering up a lot, but still feeling very brave. I don't have a number for Nik, but he's not the one whose name I scroll to. I press 'CALL' before I have time to second guess myself.
Preston's gorgeous face fills my screen. It rings and rings.
12:03 AM here means it's just after 7 PM in Hawaii. I'm sure the Wells are out to dinner. It's actually better that I get Preston's voicemail. I can leave the message I never got to deliver in person.
"Preston, it's me. It's Noe," I say, firm but also a bit slurry. "I just wanted to -I never got to say thank you. And I'll be handing out trees with Nik, who by the way says I don't need you in my five-year plan."
It gets worse. It's not my most shining moment, but luckily I'm already starting to forget it.
My phone alerts me to low battery. I send one more snap to the Js before losing my phone somewhere in my covers.
The last thing I see before closing my eyes are two very large forearms.