Chapter 42
forty-two
Miles has our apartment in full festivity mode now that it’s Christmas Eve. “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch” plays in the kitchen as he manages to cook with a steady swing of his hips.
My elbow leans on the kitchen counter as I sit at one of the barstools and turn my phone around to show Miles the selfie my parents just sent. Their wide smiles warm my heart, and just seeing them happy makes it feel a little more like Christmas.
Miles squints at the picture. “Is your dad growing a goatee?”
Flipping my phone around, I zoom in and groan. “Is he? I thought it was the lighting.”
Tossing a dish rag over his shoulder, he walks around to look at the photo with me again. “Honey, that’s a soul patch,” he says with a laugh.
Shaking my head, I back out of the photo. “I’ll let you be the one to have that conversation with him.”
He heads back to the stove to finish sautéing something that smells amazing. “Gladly. ”
When I go back to my inbox, my eyes catch on Chase’s name. I doubt I’ll hear from him today. I know he said he doesn’t visit his family until January, but I’m sure he’s doing something. I’m almost tempted to ask him. Because as much as it hurts to talk to him, the thought of him sitting alone in that fancy apartment with nothing but that tiny Christmas tree to keep him company hurts worse.
I scroll through our messages from the past few weeks. I was so happy texting him in the beginning. Every time my phone gave me a notification, I’d be a bundle of nerves, excited to see what he said. Now every time I get a text, all I feel is panic. Panic it’s him. Panic it’s not him. There’s no winning.
Miles spins with outstretched arms in the middle of our kitchen. “You’re sulking.”
My head snaps up, and I turn my phone face down on the counter. “I am not.”
He keeps dancing. “Just invite him over tomorrow. Elvis will be here.”
“You invited Elvis over for Christmas?”
He stops mid-twirl. “Did I not tell you?” He must take my vacant stare as a resounding no because he goes on to say, “It was before your shit hit the fan. I thought it would be fun if we both had our people over, since we both have dates for the holidays this year.”
“But you knew my thing with Chase would end.”
“I was optimistic it wouldn’t.”
I stare at him, unamused.
“What?” he says in defense. “So, I wanted both of us to get laid on Christmas. What’s so bad about that?”
“What are we serving?”
Now it’s his turn to give me a look. I never cook. He’s the only one who uses our kitchen, and I pull my weight by periodically providing takeout. Miles puts a hand to his chest. “I’ll be making a garlic roasted chicken with potatoes and asparagus. ”
My eyebrows shoot up. “So, we’re hosting Christmas dinner? For Elvis?”
He nods. “We are hosting Christmas dinner for Elvis.” He turns, his back facing me so he can organize our already clean kitchen. “And if you wanted to invite Daddy?—”
“No.”
His hands go up in surrender, and he dramatically turns around. “It was just a suggestion! Damn.”
Changing the subject, I ask, “What can I help with?”
He sets his elbows on the counter in front of me. “No sulking.”
I give him a sharp nod. “Done.” I’m actually feeling excited about the holiday now. Having someone here on Christmas will force me out of my funk.
“And today,” Miles continues with a subtle quirk of his lips. “You’re going to let me practice making Christmas cocktails while we watch whatever Christmas movie your heart desires. Even if it means I have to listen to Anna Farris sing about forgiveness for the fourth time this month.”
I practically melt into that statement. “God, I love you.”
He grins. “I know.”
For the rest of the day, I feel better than I have since leaving Chase’s apartment Saturday morning. Things settle into how they were before Chase, and how they will be after him. Miles keeps me laughing with his jokes while we taste test his different concoctions, and the buzz helps to distract me from everything that’s happened recently. The best one is made with sparkling wine, rum, orange, and cranberries. I hope he knows what he’s gotten himself into because I’ll probably ask him to make it every year for the rest of eternity.
We don’t talk more about Chase.
We don’t talk about Nicolette even though I’m already dreading the appointment she scheduled next week .
Christmas Eve with Miles is light and vibrant, and I feel a little more like the version of myself that I was before.