To get to Conference Room C, one had to exit a side door and walk about a hundred meters on a stone pathway to another, smaller, building. Norah was glad for the sound of crickets when they reached the outside, to drown out the competing thoughts in her head.
Because this Oliver? He was hot. She’d been unprepared for him to slip off that shirt—which he had done so with such ease, which meant he was comfortable in his own skin—and she all but melted on the spot. He had that mix of muscle and mass, of hard and soft. And her eyes… they’d started to follow that trail of hair from his belly button to…well…
And then that apology letter. Oliver’s scribbles were illegible in some areas, but she had gotten the gist of what he was trying to say. He was sorry for what he’d done. So sorry and so nervous about apologizing correctly that he’d written it on a paper napkin.
So caught up was she with these two things—and the fact that she didn’t notice even a twinge of pain on the back of her heel because he’d been an angel for fixing her up—that she’d decided to help him.
Which might be detrimental to her in the end.
Why did she do this?
She had been like this with her ex—so eager to please. So eager to fix, to take charge, so eager to risk. What if this was the wrong decision?
Her thoughts stuttered to a stop when she felt a hand on her elbow. She turned to Ollie. “Yes?”
“I just wanted to say … that I know that you can lose your job by helping me. That you could have made one phone call and had me thrown out right on my butt. I really do appreciate your help. Honestly, seeing my family will make my Christmas. It will make my year.”
Him reflecting back the risk she was taking made her heart skip a beat in worry, but she waved it away. “Well, Christmas is a good time to start over, I guess.”
“Are you starting over too?”
“I have been.” And with that thought, she smiled. For all the complaints she’d had, especially today, everything she was doing at this very second was her choice, and that was something to celebrate. Two years ago, it hadn’t been so. She’d felt suffocated under her ex’s thumb. “It took me a long time to figure out what I wanted, and while I haven’t realized all my dreams just yet, I know I can take my time to do so, and I can enjoy what I’ve made for myself.”
Still, something nagged at her. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“As much as that apology letter told me a lot of what you’re feeling, you haven’t really said what happened between you and your cousins. Was it just because you didn’t help out with the party? It seems … drastic to disinvite you because of that.”
He tugged on the shirt, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s complicated.”
“Is it really complicated?” She shrugged. “Because everyone’s got something going on.”
After a few steps, he finally said, “I am … what some would call a flake.”
“That’s … harsh.”
“It’s the truth.” Again with the tugging. “They really wanted me to step up to help make this party happen. It’s a big affair.”
“I can see.”
“And … in the beginning, there were meetings. Where we divvied up duties, when we discussed costs. I went all in and gave them a commitment that I would contribute equally.”
“You mentioned that.”
“But there’s more. I agreed to all those things knowing I didn’t have the money, but I didn’t have the courage to tell them. You see”—he cleared his throat— “I had the tendency to get into relationships where I was taken care of. It was all fun and games that way, I guess, until my last relationship, when it went sour. And toxic. I was planning my exit from the relationship at the beginning of the party planning. When I finally stepped away, there went all the money, I guess.” His voice had dipped to a whisper. “And how was I supposed to explain how I’d gotten so dependent on a person? I was ashamed.”
“Hence why you went on the PCT?”
“Yep. It was my escape. Literally. It was a good thing to hike the trail—it kept me from going back to that relationship. It also kept her from finding me. But it also kept me from calling the family. At a certain point, I thought showing up would be more meaningful.”
They had gotten to the double doors of the next building, and Norah used her badge to scan them in. Inside, a myriad of voices bounced against the walls, in addition to blaring Christmas music. But before they could move forward, she had to know his status now, because she felt for him. She felt akin to him and his journey.
“So, you came here after hiking the trail?” she asked.
“Detoured a bit. I moved myself to a new place, landed on a startup who didn’t mind a rusty coder. But in terms of my family? I’m realizing that I’m almost a little too late.” Ollie’s voice cracked, and he stepped ahead of her, as if ditching his admission by the sidelines. Norah felt the weight of his regret from the isolation, from this loneliness.
She reached out to him, against her better judgment. She understood this feeling, just from another point of view.
Her fingers brushed against his arm, and he turned. “Miscommunication can break families apart. We think we’re all alone in our pain, but everyone, at their core, really wants to talk to one another, wants to be able to understand. But somehow, it feels easier to think that we’re alone with this. I don’t know why we do that to one another.
“And though I don’t know you all that well, I’ve worked enough with the Moore family to know that the love is big among you all. If your apology is real, and if you can explain and reflect back on what you’re apologizing for, then you might find some peace with them.”
“It’s not that easy to open up.”
She half laughed. “You’re preaching to the choir. But I know it’s in you.”
His expression softened. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
The moment between them was heavy with more. Norah had the need to tell him her story. That at times, all she’d wanted was a real apology, and how that would have gone so far in her marriage.
It wasn’t about wanting to be right in a marriage. It was about finding what was right between her and her ex—the nuance of forgiveness even if at the outset, right and wrong should be black-and-white.
But the door slammed open, causing her and Oliver to jump back in surprise. A person clad in green stepped out, huffing and with a sour expression. “That’s it! I’m done. This place is out of control!” He spun around.
At the same moment, she and Ollie burst out laughing because the person standing in front of them was an elf. Mariah Carey’s All I Want for Christmas blared from the conference room.
It was surreal.
“Great.” The elf swiped his pointed hat off his head. “You’re laughing. Another thing I didn’t sign up for.”
“Okay, okay. Sorry.” Norah attempted to stifle her giggles, and after one last snort in which she took a big breath, she gestured with her arms. “Calm. So, what’s happening?”
“That! That is happening.” He waved toward the open doorway. “He does this. He does this all the time.”
“He?”
“Santa. Why does he get to choose the pre-party music? And Larry is blitzed, and Santa is too by the way, in addition to being a jerk every day of the year.”
“Who’s Larry?” she asked.
“Our agent.”
“Right …” Norah started, though she was stumped. It was clear that nothing was going to be solved, nor would Santa and his elves would be at the party if she and Ollie didn’t deal with this elf. “Show me.”
As they followed the elf into the conference room chaos, it became very clear that it would be all hands on deck. Santa was drunk, half dressed in his costume, dancing on one of the tables along with who she presumed was Larry, a slim man with his Oxford shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest. The rest of the elves were running amok.
“Now this is something I never thought I’d see,” Oliver whispered.
“Same,” she said through gritted teeth. “Thank goodness you’re here with me.”
And with a blip of a thought, she realized that she meant it.