Three Christmas Wishes - Krista Wolf

One

SLOANE

CRRRRRRRASH!

The expensive coffee machine didn’t just hit the ground, it exploded spectacularly into a thousand jagged pieces. Silver and black plastic flew everywhere as the guts spilled out all over the front lawn. I marveled at how very different it looked on the inside. So much so, that in pausing to stare at it, I actually forgot my anger for a moment.

Shit.

But only a moment.

I really liked that thing.

The innocent coffee machine had provided me thousands of hours of caffeine-infused energy, through hundreds of delicious beverages. It certainly didn’t deserve its fate. But it had been a gift to both of us; unfortunately presented by my boyfriend to me. Drake had spared no expense last Christmas in getting one that did everything, from espresso shots to foamed milk to—

“Fuck you, Drake.”

I spat the words as I scanned the apartment for any other signs of my now ex-boyfriend. Anything that might’ve been his was already scattered across the front lawn, hurled violently from our third-floor loft studio apartment. But I had to be sure.

Three whole years…

My fists clenched as I stalked from room to room, looking for anything he might’ve bought or given me. His clothes and toiletries were gone, all the bedding too. I’d have to buy new sheets and blankets — pillows as well — but anything was better than sleeping on the linens he’d soiled with his very presence.

Or for all I knew, maybe even her presence.

“Fuck you too, you giant-toothed bimbo.”

It had been a freak thing, running across him at the very edge of town. It was a sandwich shop I’d never even heard of, tucked into the back end of a street I’d never even driven down. My first and only time going there…

Funny how fate often intervenes in things like that.

Halfway through waiting in line I’d noticed him, sitting in the corner with his back to me. Holding hands with some tall, red-lipped blonde. Both hands. Fingers intertwined.

For a few seconds I stood there frozen, my mind conjuring up a thousand innocent reasons why my boyfriend would be having lunch with some long-haired blonde girl. But then he leaned in, and she leaned in… and they kissed.

Kissed is an understatement.

I was in shock, of course. The two of them practically made out at their little table, giggling and laughing while the customer behind me tapped my shoulder to urge me forward in line. Only the line didn’t matter anymore. My lunch break was over. My relationship, even more over.

And yet…

And yet somehow I knew this girl.

Who the hell is she?

At the time, my body refused to work properly. I wanted to storm over and make a scene. I wanted to yank my cheating boyfriend of three years backward by his hair, until he was forced to face me. And yet I couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, could barely even move. It was all I could do to make it to the shop’s door on two shaky legs. To spill out into the street with tears filling my eyes, and a lump in my throat so big it felt like I might choke to death.

The blonde.

Red lips. Big teeth. Bright smile…

She saw me on the way out, too. Her eyes had met mine and she’d stiffened instantly, before quickly looking guiltily away.

All the way home I’d wracked my brain, focusing every ounce of my attention on trying to remember where I’d seen her before. She didn’t work with Drake. Not that I’d seen, anyway. And it wasn’t someone even tangentially within our circle of friends, which was really his circle of friends, because I’d stupidly given up most of my past life to live in his current one.

Arriving back at our apartment my pent-up anger had burst forth all at once, exploding in volcanic fashion. I’d trashed everything that belonged to him. Thrown it straight out the window, after making sure there was no one else down there to be inadvertently buried beneath an avalanche of clothes, books, golf clubs, ski equipment, tchotchkes, and God knew what else.

I took all of it — every single thing. Every last gift and picture frame, every shared purchase we’d ever made together, because even keeping that stuff would only remind me of a shared life that never happened.

Finally I took the first photo we’d ever taken together… and held it preciously in my trembling hands. We were on the merry-go-round at a local carnival — one of those traveling state fair things that set itself up and took itself down over