Chapter Eighteen
Noelle
Call me desperate, but I’ve spent every day since Cole left going to one of the big Christmasy activities in the city in hope he might be there.
The Christmas bazaar. The skating rink. The giant tree in the park.
Hell, I even walked around the mall hoping he might want to sit on Santa’s lap or get some last minute shopping done.
A part of me thought he would have come back.
Maybe he felt this undeniable tether between us just as much as me and couldn’t resist the pull any longer.
No such luck. I’ve been depressingly alone aside from Sasha all week.
But instead of being sad that it’s Christmas and I’m not with my family, I’m sad that I don’t get to spend it with the guy that broke into my apartment.
If I took this story to the Hallmark Channel, do you think they would buy it?
It’s Christmas Eve, my twenty-fourth birthday, and I spent the majority of the day walking around in the snow hoping I’d bump into Cole.
How pathetic. My bones are frozen through and I haven’t had a decent meal so I pick up take out on the way home.
At least I’ll have Sasha for company when I get back.
Even if she’s not a cuddler, at least she doesn’t mind comfortable silence while I watch The Shining, my annual birthday tradition.
Nothing puts you in the holiday spirit like a possessed hotel and Stephen King.
I don’t understand it when I first open the door, but I’m met with the soft glow of warm white Christmas lights draped around a tree.
A real tree, not the fake kind. This one has the real pine scent and everything that fills my home with an ambiance I haven’t let myself enjoy in over a decade.
I don’t even remember the last time I got a Christmas tree.
The evergreen is decorated with bulbs of various sizes all in shades of pink and silver. Not only did he get me a Christmas tree, he decorated it to match my aesthetic.
This might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. To the point that I’m tearing up. I’m usually an emotional mess on my birthday but for an entirely different reason this year.
I stare at the thoughtful gift for a long time, basking in the glow of the lights and the way it makes my heart swell. After taking in every inch of the glowing present, I assess the rest of the apartment to find it void of the one person I really want to see. Everything is where I left it.
Except for the illuminated red snowglobe on my dining table.
Walking over, I see what Cole means about the way a human heart gives off the best glow. It’s really beautiful. Very Christmasy, too. Who knew serial killers could be so crafty. I love a man who’s good with his hands.
I shouldn’t be hesitant to touch the snowglobe since the heart is encased inside, I won’t be touching an actual organ, but it still makes me pause before inspecting it closer.
Not that I expected to see a heart preserved in a snowglobe on my dining table, but I would have expected it to be Frank’s since it was at the center of so much.
We snuck into his apartment together to get it, Sasha took a few bites out of it.
Hell, his heart is the very thing that brought us together.
But it’s not Frank’s name inscribed on the base of the snowglobe.
It’s Steven’s.
If I thought Cole breaking in to set up a Christmas tree was romantic, gifting me the heart of my abusive ex-boyfriend in the form of a snowglobe is downright poetic.
When I go to set the snowglobe back on the table beside my cute aesthetic candles, I see a folded piece of paper in the spot the snowglobe was placed. Unfolding it with hope in my heart and childish glee, I read:
Happy birthday, beautiful.
You deserve to feel special today.
Yours Truly,
SKS
Consider my heart melted. No mention of Christmas, no “Happy Holidays.” He’s making today about my birthday and my birthday only. This is probably the best birthday I’ve ever had. Who knew all I needed was my ex’s heart and for someone to break in to set up a Christmas tree.
Then I notice the post script.
P.S. If you want to feel extra special,
leave your window unlocked tonight.
You don’t have to tell me twice. Just like the guy in The Night Before Christmas, I spring to the window to open it for my own dark Santa Claus so he can come do wicked things with my body instead of leaving presents under the tree.
Ok, that’s not exactly how the story goes, but it’s my idea of a good bedtime story.
I guess I won’t be spending Christmas alone afterall.
So I wait.
And I wait.
And I wait so long that sleep overtakes me without consent.
But I’m roused from my slumber when I feel a weight settle over me on the couch where I passed out just before a hard force applies pressure to my airway.
My eyes shoot open to take in the dark gaze I’ve fantasized about every night this week. And the black mask concealing the chiseled jaw, short hair, and scruffy stubble of his chin that I love so much.
A normal person would be screaming in this situation. But me? I smile like I’ve just received the best Christmas present of my life, not an ounce of fear in sight.
Leaning close so I can smell the wintery scent of him invading my space, Cole whispers past the balaclava. His undeniably sultry voice asks me, “Didn’t anyone ever tell you to lock your windows at night? A serial killer could come in and have his way with you?”
I was counting on it.
What a Holly Jolly Holiday it will be.