“We stopped at the gift shop,” Theo explains.
“Theo insisted you shouldn’t show up empty-handed for a grand romantic gesture. He was dead set on doing posters, like in Love Actually, but they didn’t have any poster board in the gift shop. This was the best we could do,” Finn says.
“Well, I don’t think we’re going anywhere. There are no cars. I’ve tried every app.”
“We could rent a car? Did you try Zipcar?” Finn suggests.
“They don’t have anything until the day after tomorrow. Same with all the rental places.”
“What about a car service?” he asks as if I haven’t tried every possible option already.
“Tried it. Nothing.” I stop pacing and lean against the building’s facade before sliding down it into a crouch with my head in my hands. “I also tried calling David five more times and still no answer.”
“Did you leave a voicemail?” Finn asks.
“I know you’re trying to be helpful right now, but you’re making me more stressed.”
“Also, who wants an apology voicemail? That feels like a cop-out,” Theo says without looking up from his phone. He sets the stuffed bear and the flowers down next to me, and wanders to the other side of the door with his phone to his ear.
From where I squat next to the automatic doors, I hear him say the words “desperate,” “Phillip Benson,” and “important client.”
Finn and I exchange a look. I’ve never heard Theo use his father’s name for special treatment. I’ve actually heard him use a fake last name more than once to avoid the fuss altogether. He’s shockingly low-key about the whole my dad is a billionaire thing.
Theo ends his call and returns to us with a huge grin on his face. “A car is on the way!”
I jump up from my crouch and gather him in a hug. “Seriously, if David and I decide to have kids, I’m naming our firstborn after you.”
* * *
? ? ?
?I should have asked more questions before promising naming rights, because the car that pulls up is a rusted white limousine from the eighties that bears a strong resemblance to the one in my mom’s prom photos. A uniformed driver pops out and walks around the car to open the door for us. I duck my head into the back seat and take in the strobing laser lights.
The driver catches the expression on my face and apologizes. “It’s all we had available tonight, unfortunately.”
“All I care about is getting to Connecticut before midnight,” I tell him.
“That we can do,” he assures me.
* * *
? ? ?
?I’m frustrated but completely unsurprised when the limo breaks down on I-95 in Mamaroneck, thirty minutes into our drive. There’s a loud pop, then a sputtering noise, before the limo chugs to a stop in the right lane. I look over at Theo and Finn with an expression that I hope conveys What the fuck?!
“That’s not good,” George, our driver, says in the front seat. He looks at us through the partition like we might know what to do. He tries starting the engine again, but it makes a sad, sick noise like a cat getting ready to vomit.
Somehow, Finn, Theo, and I are elected to get out and push the car into the breakdown lane, while George, claiming a bad back, shifts the limo into neutral and steers. “I hope you’re getting a refund,” I say to Theo through gritted teeth as I heave my hip into the limo’s bumper. “And you can forget about baby Theo or Theodora.”
“Don’t hold this against Theo Jr., he’s innocent in this.” Theo sticks out his bottom lip in a mock-pout.
Two hours later, we’re shivering in the back seat waiting for AAA. George calls for updates every thirty minutes, but the best the dispatcher can tell him is “Soon.” It’s already eleven.
“This is stupid,” I say to Finn and Theo. “We’re not going to make it before midnight.”
“It’s not stupid, it’s romantic,” Theo reassures me.
A blinding set of headlights pulls up behind us. They’re so bright that they light up the interior of the limo even through the two inches of snow that have accumulated on the rear window.
By now we have very little faith in George, so when he gets out to talk to the tow-truck driver, we follow to eavesdrop. I hear the door of the truck slam, but can’t see anything because I’m blinded by the headlights. Oddly, I hear jingle bells moving closer to us. I shield my eyes with my hand to try to see better, but it doesn’t help.
“Finn?” says the disembodied voice of an older man.
“Who could you possibly know out here?” I ask him under my breath. I wonder if the cold is making me hallucinate.
“And Liam? Hannah? Is that you?” the voice calls.
The man comes into view, backlit by headlights. He’s wearing a Santa coat over a pair of coveralls with a belt of sleigh bells draped over one shoulder. He has a thick gray beard. I recognize him, but can’t place him. I briefly wonder if I know him from TV and we’re on a Cash Cab–type reality show, where we’ll have to answer Christmas-themed trivia to earn a ride.
It’s Kevin, I realize. Or Pete? Richard? The man from the parade all those years ago. “Keith!” Finn yells.
Yup, that’s it.
“What are you doing out here in the burbs?” Keith bellows from where he stands a few yards away.
“What are you doing here?” Finn retorts. “I can’t believe this! How do you even remember us?”
“Oh, you four made an impression. Wait, where’s your other gal?”
“In the hospital,” Finn says, and Keith looks shocked. “She’s fine, it’s a long story. You were saying?”
“Do you know, in all my years of going to the parade, no one has ever invited me to join their plans after. Except for you all. Usually I’m home by lunchtime, I have a PB and J, and then I take the evening shift so my guys can have Christmas dinner with their families.”
I feel guilty that I barely remember him, and our interaction made such an impression on him. I wrap an arm around Finn’s waist.
“Well, we’re glad you’re here,” Finn says. “We’re, uh, having some car trouble.”
“What are you doing this far from the city? You’re not running from the law, are you?” Keith laughs at his own joke.
“We’re actually trying to get to Hannah’s boyfriend’s house in Fairfield. They had a fight, and she needs to talk to him.”
“Let’s see what we can see,” Keith says, “I like our odds. We’ve got Christmas magic on our side. I see the magic worked for you two.” He points two split fingers at Theo and Finn. “I’m glad to see you’re still together.”
“Us?” Finn chokes. “No, we . . . uh . . . you must be mistaken.”
Keith gives him a funny look, but let’s it slide. “So, let’s see about this car.”
Keith spends fifteen minutes banging around under the hood of the limousine while George stands beside him holding a flashlight and positing unhelpful theories about what might be broken. At one point, Keith asks Finn to try turning the car on and it sounds promising for a few seconds, but then nothing.
“I’m sorry,” Keith says. “I think we’re going to need to tow her.”
“And then you can fix the limo at your garage?” I ask hopefully.