My Favorite Holidate: A Standalone Holiday Romance

Fable

There’s a knock on my door a few minutes later. I sit up, grab a tissue to swipe at my eyes, and croak a wobbly, “Yes?” as hope bangs its drum in my chest.

He’s back.

He misses me.

He doesn’t want to stop anything. He wants to start everything.

“It’s us,” Josie says. “And we have something for you.”

My heart sinks, but not for long. I need my friends badly, maybe more than I need Wilder right now. “I hope it’s a time machine so I can go back to three weeks ago and undo my dumb decisions.”

“The second-best thing,” Maeve says cheerily through the wood. “It’s wine and cheese.”

I sniffle. “That’ll do.”

I drag my sorry ass up and open the door. The parade of besties marches in—Maeve, Everly, and Josie are dressed in their Christmas jammies, carrying box wine, mugs, and a charcuterie board covered in cheese, olives, and crackers. Everly carries a canvas bag on her arm.

They sit cross-legged on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, and I join them. “I’m such a freaking mess,” I blurt out. There’s no point pretending I’m fine. I texted them earlier in the day to tell them about our New Year’s Eve date. But they would have found out at the Great Town Square megaphoning anyway.

Josie gives me a sympathetic smile. “You’re not a mess. But tonight was definitely a disaster, and I’m really sorry that happened.”

Everly rubs my arm, the ends of her ponytail swinging as she moves. “Do you want to talk about it? How are you feeling?”

My instinct says don’t talk about it. But I’m so tired of holding everything in. I’m so exhausted by my own fears and tired of pretending I’m okay all the time. As Maeve pours a glass of wine, I waste no time saying, “I’m not fine. We went from…falling to…we’re not going to date after all.” My voice breaks.

The soft blue lights from the tree flicker across Maeve’s face, and she shakes her head like there’s water in her ears. “You’re not going to date at all? Why not? What’s the point of that? I thought you had real feelings. Sure, they were complicated since you work together, but then it seemed like you uncomplicated it by just…embracing all these feelings.”

“Then it got complicated all over again. See exhibit A. Tonight.”

Everly peers at me with those thoughtful big brown eyes. “Because you have an ex who’s an agent of chaos. A lot of people do,” she points out matter-of-factly. “Like Max does. Sometimes they stir things up. Remember last month?”

I flash back to earlier in the hockey season when her boyfriend’s famous ex showed up out of the blue and nearly ruined an event. His pop-star ex is not exactly like Brady, but she’s cut from the same narcissistic cloth.

That event became a hot mess, too, so her point has been made, I suppose.

“You’re right. But the whole thing tonight forced me to look at myself, and that’s what I’m trying to do.”

“Right, but why is the answer—don’t date?”

My throat hitches. “Once Wilder came to see me a little while ago, it was clear in his face, in his eyes. I knew he was going to end it anyway. I couldn’t take it. I didn’t want to get fooled again,” I say, serving up my shame and my insecurities. “It was bad enough when it happened with Brady, a guy I only sort of liked. I can’t imagine how much worse it would feel with somebody I⁠—”

I stop before I say the words—fell in love with.

But Josie tips her chin my way. “It’s okay. You can say it. We’re all friends here.”

“Say what?” I ask, pretending I don’t know what she means.

Maeve nudges my arm.

Everly pats me on the knee. “Say it.”

But it’s so hard to voice those words. I keep my mouth shut.

Maeve doesn’t though. “It’s so obvious that you’re a dream come true to him. Why don’t you let your own dream come true?”

Way to see inside my soul. “How do you know this is a dream of mine?” I counter.

“Because I know you,” she says. “Because you love deeply. You love your sister deeply. You love us deeply. You feel everything. I’ve seen the way you look at him, but you’re so afraid the things that scare you have become more powerful than love.”

Her words ring through my head and slither into my heart. They stare at me pointedly like a cat refusing to budge. “But how do I get past them? Aren’t you ever scared?”

Josie smiles softly. “Of course I am. But I try to face it now.”

“You know I am,” Everly seconds. “But life is sweeter when you can move past your fears.” And it’s true she’s been there, done that.

Maeve smiles sympathetically. “I am too. All the time, every day. I’ve been scared every day since my parents died when I went to college. I’ve been scared since my mom told me to follow my dreams. I’ve been scared that I’ll never be able to achieve them.” Her eyes shining, she adds, “But you just have to keep trying.”

Josie gives her a side-arm hug and then turns her gaze to me. “Love hurts, but so does letting it go.”

“Do you really want to let him go?” Everly presses. “Because I don’t think you do.”

Who needs therapy with friends like this? I flop back onto the carpet. “Why did you come here? To make me cry and feel everything? I hate feelings so much. So very, very much.”

They join me, flat on their backs, too, which there’s space enough to do because this really is a chalet, not a cabin.

“If you’re not ready to do the hard thing, have a piece of cheese until you are,” Josie offers.

That’s not a bad idea. “Okay,” I say as I sit up to take a bite of a smoky Gouda.

As I eat, Josie adds, “It’s like you sometimes say to us—sometimes we aren’t ready to do the hard thing, so we have to do something easier first.”

I side-eye her. “You tricked me. You’re quoting me back to me.”

She smiles. “I am.”

I heave a sigh then give in, doing the easiest thing first. “Fine. You’re right. I fell in love with him.”

They erupt into cheers.

I roll my eyes. “Stop, stop.”

“The first step is saying it,” Josie goads.

“The second step is doing something about it,” Everly adds.

“The third step is banging,” Maeve finishes.

I laugh, but then sigh. Nothing is fixed, and there’s no evidence it will be. I don’t know how Wilder truly feels or what he’s willing to risk.

“I’ll think about what you said. See how I feel in the morning. How’s that?”

Everly smiles, then pats the canvas bag she brought. “Fair enough, but in that case, we have to wait till morning to show you what’s in the bag.”

No fair. “I want it now.”

“Not until you admit you’re going to try. Not simply consider it,” she says, holding the bag tight.

I huff but relent. “I’ll try.”

Josie nods toward the bag. “Show her.”

Everly reaches into it and dramatically extracts a crushed red-and-white cardboard box for a store-bought gingerbread house. “Brady’s not the only one who can look around and snoop. We can too. And we found this in his cabin after he threw his big man-baby tantrum on the gazebo stage. Somehow, it wound up on social under that hashtag—manbabytantrums. Which happens to be the best hashtag ever,” she says.

I can’t help it—I grin.

“It is.”

“And,” Everly continues, “the rules for the gingerbread competition were quite clear. You have to make the houses yourself.”

I smile devilishly. “And what are you going to do with this discovery?”

Josie lifts her chin proudly. “We already brought this to the judges. We’ll see what happens tomorrow.”

I say goodnight, then get ready for bed alone for the first time since I’ve been here. While I do, I think about the Girlfriends’ Guide to Getting Your Man Back.

Step one—saying it. Step two—doing it. Step three—coming back together.

And I’m pretty sure I want all those things more than I want to stay here, stuck.

I’m ready to do the hard thing.

I’m ready to fight for my man.