Misplaced Mistletoe by Isabel Jolie

Author:Isabel Jolie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Isabel Jolie

BLUE CHRISTMAS

Eight years ago

Nora

“What’ve we gotta do to turn that frown upside down?”

Delilah pushed a venti concoction my way. Our desks faced each other, but Delilah came around to my chair and bent over me, a look of concern plastered on her face.

“I’m not frowning.”

“Yeah, right. You’ve been moping around this whole week. You even made me stop playing holiday music. What’s up, girl?”

“It’s past Christmas. Tons of people—in fact, most people—are done with the holiday music. We’ve had it shoved down our throats for months.”

“Maybe.” Delilah sat her ass on my desk and crossed her legs. “But you seem especially down. And moody. Did you not have a wonderful holiday?”

I thought about that loaded question. I’d had a great Christmas morning, full of promise. I’d been so hopeful. And then it unfurled. Would it have been different if I’d just agreed to go with him on Christmas Day? Would I have had a somewhat normal Christmas, admittedly a lunch with a family I didn’t know, but then maybe dinner with a gorgeous guy? Was he pissed I didn’t go with him? Or did Barb come back into town?

“What is that face? I know something is wrong.” Delilah wasn’t the officemate who stayed on her side of the proverbial fence.

“It’s nothing, really. There was a guy I hooked up with. And he didn’t call. It just sucks.”

“Really? What guy? When? Tell me everything.”

“There’s really nothing to tell.”

“When did this hook-up happen? Where? I want details. Who is this guy?”

“Does any of that matter if he hasn’t called me?” I dropped my yellow number two pencil, and it rolled toward my phone.

“How long has it been?”

“Two weeks.”

“Hmm. Asshole. So, you know what that means?”

“What?”

“We’re going out after work.”

“What?”

“Yep. Best way to get over a guy is to get under a new one. And I have just the place to go. Tons of twenty-somethings. Drinks on me.”

There was no point in fighting Delilah. She was a force. And a part of me welcomed the idea of going out with a friend and doing something other than watching my phone for a text or call. The pain of the wait was excruciating. And I hated being all girly. I hated hoping. I hated being disappointed. I hated putting myself in that position because I knew better. I promised myself I’d only have two drinks. Clearly, I didn’t make healthy decisions if I allowed myself more.

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