21
Even though the parade is in full swing, I’m still processing how I got here. A few minutes ago, a marching band nearly took me out, and for one terrifying half second, I’d been sure this was it. Lights out. Reset. Another loop and another ex.
The parade rolls on. Nutcracker-uniformed musicians stomp in perfect formation.
Dancers twirl in sugarplum pastels. Floats glide by, from Santa’s workshop to Scrooge glaring from a pile of fake snow.
There’s even one with aggressively attractive elves, which makes me instinctively reach for my phone.
Yuletide Court vibes?? I type to Juliet. The message stays green. Undelivered. My reception is still not working. As if the universe is purposefully keeping me here, unable to connect with anyone outside this festival.
It’s like it’s keeping me here until I learn a lesson. And then it hits me sharp and clear. Instead of listening to Jamie’s suggestion for the turkey leg, I decided that what I really wanted was a latte. I went with my own decision, and poof, I’m not suffering from blunt trauma to the head.
My stomach flips. Not from fear this time, but from a theory: If I make my own decisions, I get to stay. I turn to Jamie and I feel… empowered. “I think I’m going to grab a holiday drink,” I say. A statement not a question.
Jamie blinks, then nods. “Cool. I’m going to go try to beat my record at Power Punch for my followers. Come find me? We can take some selfies. Hashtag couplegoals!”
I nod. The moniker no longer feels so nice.
His mom and sister offer to join me, but I tell them I also need to do a little last-minute shopping in secret. His sister’s eyes light up. “Whoever is getting a gift from you is lucky.”
I grin, recalling our conversation about gift giving and her very wise insight about doing what makes me happy. And with that I’m on my own.
As I head toward the latte truck, the air feels lighter, like I’ve shifted something unseen but important. I didn’t choose against Jamie.
I’m just choosing myself.
I wander past a block of booths, inhaling the fresh pine and gingerbread scents.
An artisan honey and jam booth catches my attention with its small wooden stall draped in a silver-and-red plaid tablecloth.
Glass jars of golden honey and ruby-colored jams are stacked atop gift-wrapped boxes, each tied with twine and dried holly berries.
A chalkboard sign hangs above with handwritten calligraphy: Jolly Jars they’re probably wondering where I got to.
But spending time with my old bestie is what I want to do.
Especially after our argument in the last cycle.
I stare at the snow globe in Robbie’s hand.
Isn’t that also the point of me repeating things over and over?
I get a chance to figure out my priorities, undo my mistakes with my best friend, and find my one true love.
At least it sounds like a plan. I take a deep breath.
“I’m here with some friends,” I answer Robbie’s question. “I’ve got time before I meet them. We can hang out—if you want.”
Robbie’s amber eyes hold mine like he knows there’s more to what I’m saying, like he’s searching for the truth.
But I force myself to smile up at him like I’m not lying.
Because I’m not. I’ll find Jamie later. And if Jamie is my one true love, then he won’t blame me for wanting to hang with my old bestie.
Unlike Anthony or Dale, who tried to keep us apart.
No matter what guy I end up with, I don’t want someone to try to interfere with my friendships.
“So you have some time to defend your title as Skee-Ball champion?” His dimpled smile spreads across his face. “I saw some machines a block away. Are you game?”
I snort as I finish off the rest of my latte, the buzz of alcohol hitting me and making my chest all Christmasy, warm and bright.
“Please. I don’t want to embarrass your ass. It’s the holidays.”
He feigns being upset. “You don’t know how much my Skee-Ball game has improved since last we played.”
I scoff. “It would take you a lifetime of practice to beat me,” I taunt. Or maybe repeating the same day over and over again.
Practice makes perfect, after all, I think as I stroll alongside my old bestie to the Skee-Ball booth. Our friendship deserves another chance, and this time I’m going to get it right.