I push the plug of my new iPhone charger into the outlet with a soft, satisfying click and let out a little sigh of happiness at being back online and the owner of a shiny new phone. And let’s take a second to pat last year’s Katherine on the back for signing up for an Apple credit card, which allowed me to buy my new phone baby at the store, even without a wallet.
The hotel’s not bad either, though for that I needed some help from . . . brace yourself . . .
Lolo Bauer. (What, you thought she didn’t have a last name? It’s fine. I didn’t either.) I needed the favor of a lifetime and asked my ex-husband’s girlfriend to loan me money for a hotel. She did me one better, booking me a room on her points and calling me an Uber, plus giving me enough cash for . . . well, let’s just say this isn’t my first martini.
She didn’t take much convincing either. Let’s just say our goals were aligned.
I didn’t want to be there for the marriage proposal. She didn’t want me there for the marriage proposal. Everybody wins!
Well, maybe not the Walshes. I do feel guilty for Irish goodbying it out of there, but I’ve already resolved to stop by the house before I head back to New York to say a proper goodbye.
A permanent one this time.
I love them. It’s time to let them go.
I love him.
It’s time to let him go.
“Another before last call, love?” Joey asks. “We’re shutting down a little early tonight. Christmas Eve and all.”
“Right, of course.” I wait for the usual irritation at this stupid holiday to creep up, but oddly, it never does. In fact, even through my slightly melancholic mood, Christmas doesn’t feel stupid at all.
“You know what, yeah,” I say. “Why not. Like you said, it’s Christmas, and I’ve got some things to take care of on my fancy new phone. Except, let’s make it a Manhattan this time.”
“You got it,” Joey says, tapping the bar once and reaching for the bourbon.
“Should you be drinking that?” someone asks. “With your concussion?”
My head feels a little fuzzy, and not because of the alcohol. And not because of the concussion either. But with déjà vu.
Wordlessly, I stare at the man pulling out the barstool beside me and taking a seat.
“Tom?”
“Never could get one by you,” he says casually, as though it’s not weird that he’s at a mediocre hotel lobby bar on Christmas Eve, when he should be . . .
I shake my head, increasingly convinced that I’m hallucinating. “Wait. Is this an actual Christmas Carol thing? Am I Scrooge? Was everything I experienced just a dream?”
“You are Scrooge,” he confirms, reaching out to eat one of my cold french fries. “But no. Everything was not a dream.”
“Then who—what? How did you find me? Did someone call you again? As my emergency contact?”
“Nope.” He eats another fry. “Because you weren’t in an accident this time.” He pauses his chewing. “Wait. Were you?”
I shake my head as Joey sets a Manhattan in front of me. Tom points at it. “I’ll take one of those. Please.”
“No,” I say quickly. “He’s not staying. You’re not staying,” I say to Tom.
Tom looks at Joey, points at the drink again with a smile.
“Okay, if you’re staying, then I want answers,” I say, pivoting my chair to face him.
“Sure,” Tom says agreeably. Suspiciously so. “What would you like to know?”
“Um, I don’t even know where to begin,” I say. “How about where the hell is Lolo? Aren’t you supposed to be down on one knee right about now?”
He checks his watch. “Almost. I’ve got a few minutes to spare.”
My mouth gapes open. “And you’re spending those minutes . . . here?”
“Her sister’s,” Tom says.
I stare at him. “Do you have a concussion? Whose sister?”
“Lolo. You asked where she was. She’s in Madison at her sister’s. Got a last-minute flight.”
“I . . .” I scratch my head. “I’m confused.”
“I can see that,” he says with a smile. “It’s very cute.”
“Take that back!” I say, affronted.
“I will not.” His smile goes wider.
I feel . . . something. Confusion mingled with . . . hope?
A hope I don’t think I can bear if I’m wrong. Can’t bear to lose him a second time. Panicked now, I hand Tom my phone. “Here. Why don’t you call Lolo, and we’ll get this all sorted out—”
“I’m not marrying Lolo, Katherine.”
Everything seems to go completely blurry, even though I haven’t touched my drink or Tom his. “What do you—what—”
“Cute,” he murmurs again with a smile. “She and I had a talk. It turns out Gorby’s not the only one who noticed that we, what was it . . . crackled with energy?”
“She dumped you because we crackled?” I ask.
“No. Well, sort of. I dumped her because we crackled. She dumped me because she wanted someone to crackle with and realized I was never going to be that guy.”
“You dumped each other.”
“I think we can stop using the word dumped, but . . . yeah. Pretty much,” he says with a shrug.
“Tom, I—”
“You want to know why I didn’t propose to you on Christmas Eve all those years ago? Why I broke from the family tradition I thought was so important to me?”
I shake my head, and Tom reaches for my hand.
“It’s because I couldn’t wait, Katherine. We were sitting there eating Chinese food, and I remember thinking that I would never, ever be as happy as I am with you. I wanted that feeling forever, and I wanted it now. I blurted out that proposal because I couldn’t wait another minute to make you mine.”
Tears stream down my cheeks, and annoyed, I wipe them away. “Why are you doing this?”
“You know how I finally found you tonight?” he asks, then leans forward. “Lolo.”
“Traitor,” I mutter, even though I already figured. She’s the only one who knew where I was.
“But she didn’t tell me right away,” Tom continues. “She made me wait. To ensure I’d get here just before midnight.”
“Why would—”
Tom places a box in front of me. The ring box.
My ring box.
Tom stands, pulls me to my feet, and holds my hands as he drops to his knee.
Happiness like I’ve never experienced before splinters through me.
“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you,” Tom says, echoing his exact words from Gorby’s truck. “I sure as hell didn’t intend to stay in love with you. But I’ve learned . . . lately, that the best things in life aren’t the ones you plan. The best things in life aren’t easy. The best things are the ones you hold on to for all your worth, and if you’re stupid enough to let go, then you fight like hell to get back. There’s absolutely no doubt in my mind that I’ll make mistakes. And that I don’t deserve you. But I also promise to never stop trying to make you smile, to make you happy. I promise that I’ll never give up. If you’ll only give me a chance.”
I laugh through my tears. “Gorby’s going to be mad. You forgot the ‘back to’ again.”
“I didn’t forget anything,” Tom says, kissing my knuckles. “That fake proposal in the truck. That was for you. Only you. Surely you know that.”
I pull my hand from his, surprised to realize it’s shaking as I reach for the ring box and flip it open. I start to pull it out, then meet his eyes. “Be sure, Tom,” I whisper. “Be really sure. Because I can’t lose the man I love a second time.”
Tom stands, then cups his ear and leans toward me. “Come again?”
I laugh. “I will not.”