Skipping Christmas #2
Just as I’m about to shut things down for the night, I swear I hear something at my door.
My heart slams against my ribs, and all I can think about is Kendra’s dad raging about how we both need to get pit bulls.
I grab the baseball bat I keep near my bed and creep toward the door.
There’s definitely someone out there, lingering.
I swallow, waiting for the knob to turn so I can really practice my swing.
I suck in a breath, my fingers tightening on the handle.
I brace myself for the jump scare of a lifetime and look through the peephole.
“The hell?” I whisper to myself. “Micah?!” I say a little louder.
Loud enough for him to hear me. He freezes and takes a step back.
Of course he’s wearing a tight black tank top that’s hugging his pecs and showing off his perfect arms. The plaid pajama pants are slung low on his hips.
It’s a sinful look, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s lurking outside my door, possibly planning to eat my skin with his Christmas dinner.
“Ashley. Sorry. Hey. I thought you might be asleep.”
“Yeah, that’s—What are you doing?”
He holds up a folded piece of paper with a little piece of tape on it. “I realized I didn’t have your number.”
I freeze. “You want my number?”
He relaxes, that damned smile spreading across his face.
I appreciate that he’s looking down and not staring into my soul through the peephole.
“I know it’s kinda late, but I’m gonna go grab a tree tomorrow, and I wanted to see if you had one already.
But I don’t have your number. So I was gonna leave you a note. ” He laughs, embarrassed.
“Well, as long as you weren’t planning on breaking and entering,” I joke. “Your number is in the note?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. I’ll grab it in the morning.”
“All right. Good night.”
“Night.” I watch as he successfully tapes the note up and I try not to giggle as he waves his goodbye before heading down the hall.
I listen for his footsteps heading down the stairs, then wait another full minute before I open the door, clutching the bat in my other hand.
The hall is empty, and the note is still hanging there.
I snatch it and dart back inside. With the door locked behind me, I flick on the kitchen light.
I scan the note like it’s holding the key to life.
I was thinking about picking up a tree tomorrow.
Wanna come? Or I can grab you one and help you put it up.
—Micah 2A
I look at his number scrawled in his blessedly legible handwriting before I scurry back to my bedroom like a squirrel with the freshest peanut.
Grabbing my phone, I dive under my covers.
I can’t believe this is happening. 2A, sexy father of one, is now Micah, sexy single man with no children who has just given me his phone number and wants to do cute stuff like run holiday errands together.
Do I text him now or wait until tomorrow?
Do I hit up Kendra and dissect every millisecond of what just happened at my door?
I decide to go the cool, logical route. I text Micah because I cannot go to sleep horny and curious.
U up?
It’s Ashley.
He responds right away.
My bad. Again.
Daylight approach next time.
I promise.
I’d appreciate it.
I don’t have a tree and I’d like one.
Can I ask, though, why did you guys break up?
Short version, we wanted different things.
Different things, like more kids and a move to Oregon
Or different things like you cheated?
Damn. Do I come off like that?!
I don’t know!
I’m asking!
Suddenly, my phone rings in my hand. I panic and almost drop it. I know hitting decline is an option. A voice call requires an appointment or at the very least an engagement ring. Still, I hit accept and put the call on speaker.
“Hey.” God, his voice is sexy. I can’t help but wonder if he’s lying in bed, like I am. “I wanna answer your question, but it’s a lot to type.”
“Sure. Go ahead,” I reply, bracing myself for an elaborate bullshit excuse. He’s too fine to be a good guy. The universe just isn’t that generous, even during the holiday season.
“We met when Jaeda was just six months old. I thought Bria was just going through a rough time, so I was cool with the ups and downs. Things started to get better, for both of us, but she starts picking weird fights when nothing is going on. Yelling at me for getting the wrong diapers and formula when I got the exact kind she wanted. Meeting me at my truck when I’m out on my route, but just to watch me, like I’m cheating.
Shit like that. Again, I’m trying to just understand what’s going on with her.
But I start saving up, getting ready to get us a house, get her a ring, to prove to her I’m serious.
That’s when she tells me she’s been talking to Bria’s dad and she’s moving back in with him.
I realized she just liked drama, so I didn’t fight it.
They left, and now I’m taking the money I saved up to go to veterinary school.
I start in January. I’ve always wanted to work with animals.
She hates animals, so that should have been the first sign we weren’t gonna make it. ”
“Wow,” I say, trying to rerun his words through my head, searching for red flags, but it sounds pretty cut-and-dried. People don’t work out all the time, and vet school seems like a great idea.
“Yeah.”
“That sounds awful. I didn’t mean to dig that up. I’m sure you miss Jaeda a lot. She’s a sweetie.”
“I do, but there’s nothing I can do. She’s not my kid.”
“Still, I’m sorry you went through that,” I say, staring down at the phone screen.
After a beat, he continues, “I was thinking about drowning my Christmas day sorrows in back-to-back NBA coverage, but then I ran into you and I figured I don’t have to give up on Christmas ’cause I ain’t got nobody.”
“I did offer you cookies.” I laugh and Micah’s warm chuckle joins mine through the speaker. “I don’t have a tree yet, but I have to work all day tomorrow. My last client is at seven.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a nail tech. NailsByAshleyLove,” I say, bragging a little. I’m really good at my job.
“Oh, all right.” He sounds impressed. “Well, I’ll grab you a tree and you let me know when you’re back from work. I’ll come set it up for you.”
I search my gut for more red flags, but none pop up. “Okay.” Why not?
We talk for a few more minutes then say our goodbyes, and I’m left wondering what the hell just happened—again. I plug my phone into the charger before I fall asleep with this completely goofy smile on my face.
With the time difference, it’s too late for me to call Amaya when I get off the next day, but her last text was enough to end the conversation.
Mommy would kill me if I skipped Christmas to come chill with you.
I’ll fly out for St Patrick’s Day.
It’s the answer I was expecting, still I find myself wishing things were different. I never want to argue with my mom again, but I miss my sister. I let myself into the building and actually grab my mail this time. Up in my apartment I look at the texts Micah sent earlier in the day.
Tree secured.
I can bring it by tonight.
Or tomorrow.
LMK.
I sent a thumbs-up and a smiley face back hours ago, and now I need to decide if I want this man in my apartment right now or if I really should wait.
If the answer is tonight, I need to decide if I answer the door in a thong and a crop top or if he gets to see the more relaxed version of me who has been waiting all week to get into my new footy pajamas.
I quickly wash up, because I definitely feel like I’ve been at work all day, and then I send the text, my mind made up.
I’m home.
You can bring it up now if you’re around.
Micah responds before I can even lock my phone.
On my way.
I do the normal things when you’re expecting company at 10 p.m.—turn on the TV and make it look like I was already relaxing in my pink snowflake jammies, pull out the rest of the decorated sugar cookies I made the other day and put them on a cute little plate.
Try not to rethink the thong idea. And definitely try not to freak out when I hear a knock at the door.
It was fine when Micah was just 2A, taken and completely untouchable.
But now he has a name, he’s single, and he’s bought me a tree.
Who knows, he might ask me to marry him tonight.
It’s a lot of change all at once. A lot of pressure.
I open the door, instantly confused by what’s waiting for me in the hallway. It’s Micah with a really big box.
“I like the getup,” he says, looking me up and down with a smile.
“I like to be cute and cozy. What is that?”
“Your tree. Can I come in?” Right, it’s LA freezing and he’s in jeans and T-shirt.
“Oh, right.”
I move out of the way and try not to stare too hard at the way his back muscles look as he lugs the thing inside. He sets the box on my living room floor, face up so I can see the label. A fake tree was not what I had in mind.
“I thought you were gonna go all rustic. Drive up to Big Bear and cut me down the real thing,” I tease, kinda.
“I thought about it, but then I got to the tree lot. Shit was picked over. I got this sad-looking Charlie Brown looking thing for my place. Here.” Micah pulls up his phone and shows me the saddest-looking piece of evergreen draped in lights and like three bulb ornaments next to his TV.
“Oh, that is pathetic.” I laugh.
“I—uh—looked you up on Instagram last night, and sad and shabby didn’t seem like it fit your vibe. I might be wrong, but I think you like pink.”
I look down at my footy pajamas and then around at the rest of my apartment. Pink and white everywhere. My nail studio is exactly the same, and I’m wearing pink in almost all of my posts. I glance down at the artificial pink tree that comes with its own twinkling white lights.
“Plus, you don’t have to keep it alive.”
“Micah, it’s been like an hour, and I don’t appreciate how well you’re getting to know me.”