Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Less than twenty-four hours later, I’m sitting cross-legged on my couch, crying into a bowl of peppermint ice cream while on a video call with my mom.
How pathetic am I? I don’t know why I’m being hit with an onslaught of emotions over having to work on my favorite holiday, but even I can recognize I’m taking it to the extreme.
I have no rationality when it comes to this. At least I’m aware of my idiocy though, right?
It’s seriously stupid.
Picking at a peppermint chunk with my spoon, I sigh. “I shouldn’t be this emotional over having to go to work, right?”
“It’s okay, Gennie, your feelings are valid.
” My mom’s comforting voice slips around me as though she is here, embracing me while she strokes my hair.
“However, this is the career you picked, and you were born for this job. Christmas can be celebrated any day of the year—in fact, we have no problem waiting until the twenty-sixth to uphold our traditions. The date on the calendar makes no difference in significance.”
“I know, Mom. Rationally, I know I need to stop whining. I’m acting like a child.”
My mom chuckles. “You are, but I understand, my girl. Be happy you have a wonderful place to work with patients who value you as their nurse. Plus, you have so much celebrating ahead of you! With us, and then with your first holiday party at the hospital. Are you looking forward to it?”
Honestly, there’s a part of me that doesn’t even want to go. But I don’t tell my mother that.
The hospital’s annual Christmas party is being held in a ballroom at a swanky hotel in downtown San Diego.
Based on the chatter I’ve heard from other nurses, it’s an amazing event.
The board truly goes out of their way to give a show of appreciation for the staff who are able to attend.
They host it the week between Christmas and New Year’s, rather than trying to cram it in before Christmas, and I’ve been told they do a great job at rotating who is scheduled to work that day.
“I don’t know, I may n—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. You are going.
” My sister, Briar, walks into the frame, cutting me off mid-word as she finishes it for me.
Her beautiful face appears next to my mom’s on the small screen.
“You’ve already picked out the dress, and you have the heels.
All you need is a blowout and a little makeup, and you’re party ready. ”
“Oh, is that all I need?” I sass back, knowing damn well she’s correct but refusing to acknowledge it. We went shopping a few weeks ago and picked out a beautiful chocolate-brown tulle dress I’m utterly obsessed with.
“Yes! That, and the confidence to walk in there like the badass bitch you are.”
A badass bitch walking in alone.
That’s the other thing I don’t love about the holiday party—I don’t have a date.
Liam and I have already cut ties, quickly realizing a long distance flirtation doesn’t suit either of us.
We left things on great terms, with promises to reach out if either of us were ever in the other's vicinity. But I have no plans of visiting Northern California anytime soon, so while it’s a lovely notion, it’s not a realistic one.
“We’ll see. Maybe I’ll spend the evening wrapped in my fluffy robe, curled up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, instead. Pebbles is the perfect date for a movie night.”
“Don’t you dare, Genesis! Your days of relaxation are saved for your days off work.”
“Technically, I’m not working if I’m going to the holiday party.” I raise my brows in defiance.
“You know what I mean.” Briar rolls her eyes, and I can see Mom’s attention flit between me and my sister, on standby to diffuse a potential argument.
I laugh, ready to shut this conversation down. My sister and I get along great until we don’t, then it’s like we’re teenagers all over again.
We stare at each other through the screen for several seconds before she relents and sighs deeply. “Do you want to go to a movie later? There’s a new romcom out I’ve been wanting to see.”
“As much as it pains me to say, I’m going to pass. I can feel the exhaustion deep in the marrow of my bones. All I want to do is go back to sleep.”
“Understandable. Well, we’ll see you tomorrow for sure. Are we sticking to tradition?”
“Why would we break it?” A jolt of anxiety spikes at the thought of another piece of my holiday ripped away.
“I don’t know! You can’t come on Christmas, so I just wanted to make sure our Christmas Eve tradition was still on.”
“That shouldn’t even be a question in your mind, B.”
“I am making lobster bisque this year,” Mom butts in. Picking up the phone, she stands and starts to walk away from Briar. “And Auntie dropped off a fresh loaf of her sourdough this morning.”
“Then we’re going to caravan around and look at Christmas lights while drinking peppermint hot chocolate, right?” God, the more I speak, the more I sound like a child.
“Yes, Gennie, of course that is the plan. We will head to Candy Cane Lane, then go over to Kringle Court.”
Her words put me at ease. “Good. I like that plan.”
“It’s been the same plan your entire life.”
“And that’s why I like it. Nothing wrong with that.”
“You’re right, my love, there is nothing wrong with that,” she coos.
“All right, I’ve got to run, Mom. My duvet is calling my name again. Love you guys.” I blow a kiss into the phone.
“We love you. See you tomorrow.”
Then, with a final wave, I hang up.
No sooner do I set my phone down does Pebbles come running from the kitchen, her bowl of dog food long past devoured. Taking a leap, she hits the couch next to me and lays her head in my lap.
She’s jonesin’ for my ice cream, and although her puppy dog eyes are hard to resist, I boop her on the nose instead of sharing. “No, no. Peppermint is bad for doggos.”
Doing my best to ignore her, I push the play button to turn on the movie I was watching, even though I know for a fact I won’t make it another fifteen minutes with the way my eyelids are feeling like they weigh thirty pounds each. But I am determined to at least make it to eight o’clock.
Abandoning my now empty ice cream bowl onto the coffee table, I pull my blanket up to my chest, snuggling in with my dog-shaped body pillow. Although it’s pretty bony and wiggly if you ask me—and it snores.
But none of that matters because soon I’m falling asleep, listening to the rhythmic breathing of my dog as I settle in on my cozy couch. I should get up and go to bed, but I can’t bring myself to care, let alone move, and soon my dreams are of happy Christmas memories.
“So tell us about this baseball player,” my dad prods after swallowing a large spoonful of his steaming hot soup.
I nearly choke on mine.
“Mom!” My spoon clatters against the oversized bowl in front of me as I set it down, sending a glare across the table.
I’ve been waiting for this all night though.
From the moment I walked through the door of my parents’ house, I could feel his stare following me around, and I caught him suppressing a grin more than once—a telltale sign he was sitting on some information and was bursting at the seams to word vomit it.
My dad is a terrible secret keeper.
Mom shrugs. “You know I tell your father everything.”
“Yes, but in this case, there was nothing to tell,” I insist, then turn my attention to him to extinguish his excitement.
“It was nothing, Dad. We went on one date. He was very nice, and he entertained me by going caroling with my friends, but we’re not even talking anymore.
Also, he wasn’t a baseball player! He was the team’s doctor. ”
“That’s even better!” His hands flail in front of him. “Why are you letting such a successful man get away?”
“Who’s to say he’s successful?”
“He’s the private doctor of a major league baseball team. If you don’t count that as a success, I don’t know what success looks like to you.”
My fingertips press into my temples as I lean my elbows on the table. “Like I said, he was very kind, but it would never have worked out. He lives up north.”
“You young people have no concept of time apart. A little long distance can be healthy. That’s what they did back in the day. Tons of successful relationships were long distance when the men went off to war.”
Oh God, here we go again.
“Leave her alone, Peter!” Mom smacks his chest. “Gen does not need a man to make her happy or define her success. She will eventually meet someone and settle down when the time is right.”
“Maybe he’s just not the right type of doctor for Gen.” Fern, my younger sister, shrugs her shoulders. Her lips purse with a mischievous smile.
Immediately, I shake my head in her direction and narrow my eyes. Fern is the only person I’ve told everything to. She’s a year and a half younger than me, and we’ve always been close. However, if she doesn’t shut her mouth right now, she is going to be very close to the ground instead.
Possibly six feet beneath it.
“Oh,” my older brother Elliott butts in. “Pray tell, little sis.”
“Did you meet someone at the hospital?” My mom’s eyes sparkle with curiosity.
“You met someone and you didn’t tell me?” Briar squeals at the same time my middle sister, Parker, scolds, “How are you going to meet a hot doctor and say nothing? I feel betrayed.”
From across the table, two of my brothers start busting up laughing.
“Well, tell us about him,” my father urges.
I bury my head in my hands.
What in the actual snowball effect is happening right now?
With a groan, I push the heels of my hands into my eye sockets, willing myself to disappear.
“For God’s sake, everyone, calm down. I didn’t meet anyone,” I finally snap. Ripping my hands from my eyes, my vision blurs, but quickly clears to the sight of far too many curious eyes on me.
“Liar,” Fern mumbles under her breath, and since she’s sitting right next to me, I hurl my elbow into her side.
She grunts. “Ow, Gen, what the hell?”
“Yeah, what the hell?”
“All right, my children,” Mom’s melodic, yet authoritative voice raises through our bickering. “Settle down. It’s Christmas Eve, and you’re acting like heathens. If Gen says there is no one, then there is no one. Be respectful—all of you!”
“Thank you, Mom.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I glare at my siblings.
With a soft chuckle, Mom stands and begins to stack empty soup bowls, holding them between her hands carefully, then walks into the kitchen.
Seconds later, the sound of running water from the faucet fills the air.
I’m still staring daggers at my siblings when we all hear a gasp, followed by a clatter of ceramic hitting the metal basin.
Our father is on his feet faster than I can blink.
“It’s snowing!” she squeals, excitement bubbling out of her as she claps her hands together, pressing up on her tiptoes for a better look out the window overlooking the backyard. “And the snow is sticking!”
“This is San Diego; we don’t get snow.” My youngest brother scratches the top of his head, walking over to the sliding glass door to see for himself.
Pushing it open, the freezing air flows in, and we’re all able to catch sight of the snow coating the artificial grass. “Well, damn. I guess I’m the liar of this house now. Look at this shit!”
Following him out onto the back patio, my arms instinctively wrap around my middle for warmth. In each hand, he forms a small snowball, then chucks one in my direction and the other in Elliott’s.
As the crisp little snowball connects with my shoulder, it’s like every member of the Nikolaou household has been transported back in time to when all of us were kids and my parents took us to see the snow for the very first time up in Julian.
But we’re not in Julian this time, and it’s been sixty-five years since San Diego’s last snowstorm—a rarity that just doesn’t happen this close to the ocean, when our weather is practically perfect year-round.
But as my younger sister slips her hand into mine and gives it a squeeze, I know we’re all thinking the exact same thing: it’s our first white Christmas.
And if I have to miss Christmas Day with my family, at least I get to be here on Christmas Eve to experience this with them.