Not Another Christmas Movie

He certainly wasn't blameless in the entire situation, but neither was I.

On Thursday, I sat in the boardroom twirling a pen between my fingers long after everyone had left for the day. I still had a stack of things to finish, but I couldn't focus.

Frank, just calm down. We can fix this.

How could you possibly help? Put a candy cane on it and some tacky decorations and say it's better?

How the fuck are you going to fix it? Throw some goddamn tinsel on it and say it's better?

I'm sorry, Nicki.

I don't give a shit if you're sorry! It's too fucking late for sorry!

Good for you. I don't care.

Frank's words and Cole's words and my words. All tangled up in my head like the Christmas lights I'd thrown on Cole's desk, playing like a grotesque version of a Hallmark movie. I knew exactly what it felt like to be on Cole's side of the conversation, and I'd still said those horrible things to him.

I had two options, I reasoned. I could end my contract at the firm, turn my back on the whole thing, and never think about it again.

Alternately, I could apologize to Cole, end my contract at the firm, turn my back on the whole thing, and never think about it again.

The first option was attractive. I wouldn't have to put myself through the embarrassment of an apology or own up to my mistakes. I could walk away, ignore what had happened, and move on with my life.

It was a great option, really, and I considered it strongly. The idea of dragging my sorry ass into Cole's office to ask for his forgiveness was daunting, at best. Why bother, when I was so close to being done?

But there was the problem of that stupid little nagging voice in the back of my heart, telling me that apologizing was the right thing to do. I owed it to him. I owed it to myself, to prove to myself that I was better than Frank. Frank had never apologized, not even for the cheating. Did I really want to take an action that put me on the same level as my ex?

I packed my things up. There was no chance of getting any work done that night. Begrudgingly, I promised myself that I'd go to Cole's office the next day and apologize.

**

I didn't go to Cole's office to apologize.

I intended to, I really did. It was the first thing I intended to do that day. But when I got to the boardroom, Angela was already waiting for me.

"I know it's your last day," she said as soon as I walked in. "I am so sorry to spring this on you, but one of the executives got a DUI last night driving home from a meeting with a client."

"What? Who? What were they thinking?"

"I know. It's bad. Can you help put some things in place for when this gets released?"

So instead of going to Cole's office to apologize, I spent the first part of the day dealing with the fallout of some overpaid shithead's decision to endanger anyone with the misfortune of driving the previous evening. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how it's looked at, it wasn't an entirely uncommon disaster in the PR world, and I made quick work of getting everything in place.

By the time I was finished, it was almost lunchtime. I intended on going to Cole's office to apologize, but between my lack of motivation the previous evening and the loss of the morning, I was way behind. If I skipped lunch, I reasoned, I could finish up the rest of my tasks and go to Cole's office mid-afternoon to apologize. That would be better, wouldn't it? More considerate, I thought. It wasn't fair for me to take up his lunch hour with my apology.

And then I just... didn't.

Two o'clock rolled around. It would seem contrived, I told myself, to go to his office right at two. Like I'd scheduled it. I should wait a bit.

At two-thirty, I was in the middle of a complicated spreadsheet I was preparing for posterity. I couldn't step away.

Three o'clock was coffee time, and I recycled the "inconsiderate to take up his break time" excuse.

At four o'clock, I ignored the time.

At four-thirty, I nearly had a panic attack when I couldn't think of a reason not to go to his office, and that was a good reason not to go to his office.

At four-forty-five, I ignored the time again.

When five o'clock hit, I put my head in my hands.

I knew I was a shitty person. A shitty, selfish, stupid—

"Nicki, can I come in?"

If he had knocked, I hadn't heard it, nor had I heard him open the door. His voice was tentative and serious, a mask for the nervousness that entwined in his words.

"Hey, Cole. I meant to come see you today."

"You did?"

I nodded, still not looking at him. "Come on in."

He shut the door softly behind him. I took a deep breath, told myself to do the right thing, and looked up.

Cole was standing at the other end of the boardroom table. He had his jacket on, a black wool pea coat that made him look classy and fashionable. His hair was slightly ruffled, the Santa hat he'd been wearing for the past three weeks clasped in his hands instead of glued to his head.

We looked at each other hesitantly for a moment, neither willing to break the silence. Finally, Cole cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I was way out of line. I acted unprofessionally, and worse, I was a horrible friend to you."

"I owe you an apology, too."

"You don't."

"Yes, I do." I folded my arms and bit my lip, willing my voice not to shake. "I should not have yelled at you. I could have explained the situation to you in a much less emotional way. And I shouldn't have tried to bring you down. Just because it's a bad time of year for me doesn't mean I should shit on how other people celebrate it. I'm sorry, Cole. I was pissed with what you were doing but that didn't warrant the reaction I had."

"I disagree. I think you have every right to be pissed." A half-smile played across Cole's lips. "But I accept your apology."

"I accept yours, too. I'm... I wanted... I wish I had come to your office sooner."

"Why's that?"

Now, if this were a classic Christmas movie like the masterpieces on the Hallmark channel, things would have gone a little differently. I, as the gruff but lovable heroine with a tragic backstory, would tell Cole that he'd helped me get over my lack of Christmas spirit. I'd shed a single tear, sadly lamenting that my time at the firm was done and I wouldn't get to see him every day. Then, with a sniffle, I'd tell Cole I love him, and for some reason that wasn't totally clear to the viewer, had to leave because we couldn't be together.

With every bit of tense drama I could muster, I would collect my personal items and try to run from the room. Conveniently, that would mean I'd have to bypass Cole, who was still standing near the doorway. He'd stop me with a single touch on my arm that I could easily shake off, if it were real life, and throw the Santa hat clasped in his hands across the room.

"Don't you see, Nicki?" he'd declare. "It's meant to be. We're meant to be. All I wanted for Christmas—" cue sappy music featuring jingle bells "—was for you to be happy."

Then he'd touch my face, and we'd finally kiss. It would be reasonably chaste—these are family movies, after all—but as the music swelled and the credits began to roll, the viewer would just know that Cole had hoisted me up onto that boardroom table. He'd bunch my skirt up at my waist (because in the movie, I'd be wearing a skirt even though it was the middle of winter and I hadn't worn a single skirt since starting at the firm), wrench my legs open, and fuck the Christmas spirit right back into me.

"It's my last day. I didn't want to end on a bad note. If I hadn't been a pussy about things, we could have had lunch or something," is what I actually said.

"How about dinner?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Like, now?"

Cole grinned and that familiar melting feeling crept through my body. "Yeah. My treat. To make up for—"

"You have nothing to make up for."

"Fine. As a thank you for the past few months."

I smiled. "Okay. Let's do it."

"Great, I know just—"

"On one condition."

Cole stopped, looking at me expectantly.

"No Christmas stuff," I said. "Please. Just a normal, regular dinner."

"Deal," he said. "If you feel like I'm pushing or even veering in that direction, just tell me. I promise I'll stop."

**

Cole kept his word. Dinner went by without a single mention of the season, aside from a small "happy holidays!" from the waitress as we left.

He took me to a nearby restaurant that he said was one of the best in town. It didn't look like much from the outside, but then again, the best restaurants never do. Once we were inside, it looked like a hipster's wet dream. Exposed brick walls, rich wooden tables that were artfully distressed, mismatched coffee cups and cutlery that probably came straight from the closest thrift store. It was as cool as it could be without being cool.

I gave it a pass on the trendy-but-not-too-trendy decor because Cole was right. The food was phenomenal. Nothing came served in a garden shovel and there were no deconstructed sandwiches or anything on the menu. It was just good food using great ingredients. Even stuffing myself past the point of comfort, I wasn't able to finish my portion, and had to ask for it to be wrapped up to take home.

Without the Christmas cloud hanging over us, things felt normal. By the end of the meal, it was like the entire month of December hadn't happened. We talked and laughed, joked about work stuff, and gossiped about little rumours and stories we'd heard.

But it was not normal, at the same time. The jokes were a little more risque, the talking edging on the side of flirting. Those stares we used to hide became significant gazes, lingering just a little longer than they should have. We weren't colleagues anymore, and that chemistry we'd been ignoring since September was threatening to bubble over.

Hooking up with Cole had fallen from my wish list around the same time he'd put the Santa hat on. That night, it came back with a roaring insistence, and those little smiles he was giving me weren't helping. A month ago, it would have been a dream come true. My body wanted him, there was no denying that. The rest of me did, too, and it was impossible for me to ignore that it wasn't just physical.

I cared for Cole. I had felt bad about our fight, and it wasn't just because he didn't deserve to be spoken to the way I had spoken to him. It was because I kind of... oh God, I kind of liked him. In a "stay for breakfast the next morning" kind of way. In the "something more" kind of way.

I didn't know if that was an avenue I wanted to explore. For one thing, a relationship with Cole would mean having to handle the Christmas drama like an adult at some point. For another, relationships were complicated. I hadn't been in a serious one since Frank.

Finally, I had no idea if that was something Cole wanted. And the same dreadful worry in my stomach, the one that had made excuses not to go to his office and apologize, was keeping me from admitting how I felt.

Maybe I should just fuck him and be done with it, I thought. After all, there was no discernible reason that he would want a relationship with me after the way I'd acted. I was lucky he even wanted to be friends.

The evening went by too fast. I felt a pang of disappointment when the waitress dropped the bill on the table—"No rush, but do you need the machine?"—and grabbed for it, but Cole pushed my hand away gently. I shivered as his fingers brushed against mine, and hoped fervently that he didn't notice.

"I said it was my treat." He pulled out his wallet and nodded to the waitress, who had the machine with her despite the insistence that there was no rush. Once paid, she nodded brusquely at us and left the table.

"Well, thank you," I said as we got up to leave. "That was delicious. I'm stuffed."

"Me too. Told you, best place in town."

It was that awkward part of the night, where neither of us really knew what was going to happen next. The night was clear and brisk, only mildly chilly. We stood outside the restaurant entrance for a moment, the uncertainty palpable.

"Did you want to go for a walk, maybe?" I asked.

"Do you need a ride home?" asked Cole at the same time.

I blushed, embarrassed at having misread the situation.

"Oh, no, I can get home from here—"

"No, a walk would be great, let's—"

We stopped again and chuckled awkwardly.

"Let's go for a walk," Cole suggested. "It's a nice night."

"Are you sure? If you have somewhere else to be..."

"Nowhere else I'd rather be. I just didn't want to monopolize your evening."

I tried to hide my smile at his words and failed miserably.

"Know any good places to wander?"

Cole nodded. "There's a park just a few blocks away."

We walked slowly, in that unhurried way people do when they have nowhere in particular to be. For a while, we didn't say much, but it was a comfortable silence.

Just before we reached the park, Cole spoke up.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

He hesitated, seemingly trying to think of how to phrase whatever it was, and mindlessly brushed his fingers along the faint scar on his jawline.

"Okay, it's a serious question. And we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"Cole, you promised no Christmas stuff."

"It's not specifically Christmas related." He stopped walking and turned to me. "Look, I know I've only known you for a couple of months, but you've always seemed like the kind of person who doesn't let other people control your life. I just wanted to know more about what happened with your ex and how it made you stop loving something you enjoyed so much."

He was absolutely right: I did not want to talk about that in the slightest. The happy buzz I'd been riding for the evening came to a staggering end.

"That's a pretty heavy question. I thought it was bad form to talk about exes on a date."

Cole raised his eyebrows. "Is this a date?"

The second the words left my lips, I had started blushing. "I mean, no, but I just... I was joking."

"Oh."

Sighing, I tilted my head back and looked up at the darkened sky. "I don't know what to tell you. Logically, I know he was the asshole in the situation, but I can't help blaming myself. Every time I try to get past it and celebrate, I just hear his voice in my head telling me how obnoxious I was."

"That sounds frustrating."

"It is. And I just... I can't get past it. It's easier to just ignore the whole thing."

Cole nodded. "I can see why you'd say that. It's hard to move past a painful experience, especially when it's tied so closely to a holiday."

I shook my head miserably. "You don't understand. But thank you for trying."

He started to say something, then stopped. "Do you miss it? Celebrating, I mean?'

Pursing my lips, I looked at Cole. He was watching me, his face earnest, ready to back off at any second. I think he knew he was toeing the line of what he had agreed to. There was something about the way he was looking at me that stopped me from snapping at him, though. He wasn't pushing the issue. He wasn't trying to force me to be happy. He just, earnestly, honestly, sincerely wanted to know.

It was that look that made me search my own heart for the answer. The easy thing would have been to say no, I didn't miss it, and let the issue drop. But it wasn't the truthful answer.

"A little bit," I admitted. "But not enough to put myself through those memories. Don't take it as an invitation to start pressuring me."

"I won't," he promised. We started walking again, the noise of the city fading as we entered the park. "Can I offer some unsolicited advice?"

"Is it still unsolicited if you ask prior to offering it?"

"I think so. Solicited advice would require you to ask for it."

What the hell, I thought. "Sure."

"Make new memories. Start new traditions. Stuff you didn't do before," he said. "I mean, it's no secret that I go all-out for Christmas, but it's not like that's a necessity. If you miss it, even just a little bit, don't let your shithead ex ruin it for you forever."

"It's easier said than done, Cole."

"I know."

"You don't."

"Nicki, I really do." Again, he started to say something but changed his mind. "It kills me that someone took something you loved away from you. The fact that he was able to do so is a testament to how horrible of a situation it was, and I sympathize. I really, honestly do. But you just said that you miss it. Even missing it a little bit is a reason to try to get it back."

I could feel anger flaring up. The chill of the evening was even more obvious as my cheeks flushed, burning hot in the crisp air. My instinct was to yell again, to tell Cole to back off and that he had no idea what he was talking about.

But something else stopped me. The instinct to be defensive, to run away from my problems instead of facing them... that wasn't who I was. That instinct was a response, something that had been learned after I had been told my love for Christmas was what ruined my relationship. My true instinct was still there, buried somewhere beneath the layers of scars I'd obtained from having my heart broken, and it screamed at me that Cole was right.

I was quiet for a long time while I processed Cole's words, and it was only when he mumbled something that I realized it.

"What was that?" I asked.

"I said I'm sorry for overstepping."

"No, you didn't overstep. I was just thinking."

"What were you thinking?"

Again, I paused. New memories, new traditions. Stuff I hadn't done before.

"I could really go for some hot chocolate right now," I said.

Cole's face betrayed his surprise, but he got his expression under control quickly. "Peppermint?"

"Yeah."

"I know just the place. Not as good as the stuff I make, but close. Are you up for a bit of a drive?"

I would have been fine with stopping at the nearest Starbucks, but I wasn't going to turn down more time with Cole. We drove through the city, past the outskirts of town, and when he turned down a gravel road nearly half an hour later, I looked at him in surprise.

"Where are you taking me? Should I be worried they'll find me in a ditch somewhere?"

Cole laughed. "Not a chance. Anyway, we're headed there." He pointed at a property just down the road, a patch of bright light in the otherwise dark countryside. When he turned in, I raised my eyebrows.

"This is a tree lot."

"Yep. But they make the best hot chocolate in the area. Other than mine, of course."

The place was quite busy. I guess the Friday before Christmas was a popular time, and Cole had to drive around a bit before finding a parking spot. When I got out of the car, it was both my Christmas dream and my nightmare.

It wasn't a big, professional operation. The place was clearly someone's farm. At the far end of the lot, there was a cute house that was positively dripping in Christmas lights. The trees filled one section of the yard, where a man was busily helping family after family purchase the most beautiful trees I'd ever seen. In another area, a woman was serving hot chocolate from a wooden booth. Portable fire pits dotted the yard, and people milled about, sipping hot chocolate and warming themselves in the golden glow.

I couldn't see where they were, but speakers around the yard blasted Christmas carols. An older teen boy was helping families into a wagon full of hay. The horses at the head of it snorted as they waited, steam rising from their nostrils in the chilly night air.

Children hollered and giggled. Lovers strolled holding hands and sipping hot chocolate. It was a scene I'd watched in a million Hallmark movies come to life. Somewhere deep inside, my heart melted, and I forgot about Frank and being obnoxious and hating Christmas. As I took in the sights, my eyes filled with wonder.