suitcase and help her lift it off the ground. “It’s okay, I’m happy to be here. I have the soup kitchen, and after, I’m going to Christmas Eve with Branson and his friends.”
Together, we’re shifting the very heavy suitcase down our hallway.
“I can’t believe that fake relationship thing with Hunter worked. Branson is all over you now.”
“I wouldn’t say all over me, but it’s progress.”
She drops the suitcase, and it nearly lands on my foot.
“Careful with that.”
“You don’t sound excited.” Her hands are on her hips as she eyes me up and down. “You should be giddy. You’re not. What’s the deal?”
“I am giddy. I’m so giddy that I am holly, jolly Christmas giddy,” I state.
She gives me a dumbfounded expression.
I carry on, “In fact, I have plans to groom underneath the Christmas tree, if you know what I mean. It will be a winter wonderland.”
Her chin rises and falls slowly. “What are you going to wear?”
“I haven’t thought of that yet.”
“I knew it! You’re not excited!”
I push her accusatory finger to the side.
“I am, but I’m volunteering at a soup kitchen first. I can’t go there in a sexy red dress. I was thinking of maybe tight black pants and a shimmery top, but I’ll wear a cardigan or blazer over it for the volunteering part.”
“You should come home and slide on the red dress before going to Branson. Woman, when I come back, I plan on finding out exactly how that man rocked it and rocked it good.”
I pull on her suitcase and smile. “It will be a fairy tale in New York.”
We get her bag down the stairs and on the sidewalk. Her Uber pulls up, and we hug for a crazy long time, wishing each other a merry Christmas, including a have fun for me, and a safe flight for her. As she drives away, I wave until I can’t see her car anymore.
Upstairs, I close the door, and Mittens walks his fine feline self out of my room. I lift him up and take a seat on the sofa. I pet him and hold his face up to mine.
“I think Sofia’s right. You are a snob. You waited until she left to come out. You really need to be a gentleman.”
Mitten meows and then points his butt in my face. He hops over to the floor, and I take in the evening that is upon me. Tonight, Branson Ford might make a move on me. Sofia’s right; I should be over the moon. This is what I’ve been waiting for, yet something doesn’t feel like I expected it would.
In Bowery is a shelter that advertised their need for servers on Christmas Eve. It’s a men’s shelter, which doesn’t rank as high as the women’s and children’s shelters do for those looking to help.
I’m standing in a large room with paned windows overlooking the busy street outside. There are rows and rows of tables decorated for the holiday. I came here this morning to help with the setup. Each table is lined with a red plastic tablecloth, and small centerpieces made of plastic poinsettias are in the center. There’s a Christmas tree and a menorah at the opposite end of the room. Along the side wall are the tables where I and the other volunteers will be prepared to serve.
By the afternoon, the room is festive with “Jingle Bells” playing on a speaker. I’m walking around the room, taping paper snowflakes to the wall, when I hear a man walk up behind me.
“You need a hand with that?” he asks.
I turn around, and am flabbergasted as I take in the sight before me.
Wearing a pair of camel corduroys and a navy-blue sweater with hair that’s as disheveled as it is so perfectly in place is Hunter.
His mouth rises into a smile that makes my knees wobble slightly, which I’m sure is really just from the shock of seeing him here, at a men’s homeless shelter, on Christmas Eve.
“What are you doing here?” I ask when I finally find my voice.
With his hands buried deep in his pockets, he leans back on his heels. “I thought you’d like some company.”
“What about the Johnstone family Christmas?”
He glances up at the analog clock on the wall, which reads five o’clock. “Christmas Eve is pretty low-key. Just my parents and my sister’s family. If I’m in the car by eight, I’ll make it in time for dessert.”
“Your mother must be upset that you’re not there.”
He rubs his jaw and looks