THREE DAYS BEFORE NOCHEBUENA
Gigi Baez lived by two creeds: hustle hard and love harder. At twenty-seven she had a full-time job, two or three side hustles, and was currently getting her little sister ready for college. So, when her family and friends had bought her an all-expenses paid vacation to South Beach a few days before Nochebuena, she felt too guilty to do anything but spend the morning before her flight working.
She sometimes slept in the unused greenrooms of the Madison Square Garden after long shifts running light tech for concerts. The pay was mediocre, but she gobbled up the energy from the crowds. Vibed from the musicians belting their little hearts out. Plus, she could put Lily on her health insurance. That mess was expensive, and so was college.
Gigi was just in the middle of a dream in which Maluma noticed her backstage, and serenaded her just before kissing her up against—
She grumbled awake at the caterwauling of her alarm and rubbed the exhaustion from her eyes. Technically, napping at work, even if she wasn’t on the clock, was frowned upon. But it saved time on her commute. One glance at her phone confirmed it was the ass crack of dawn, or four thirty in the morning, and she was already a few minutes behind. She tossed the disposable orange earbuds into the trash, washed up in the bathroom, and yawned her way into the cold Manhattan morning.
Last night’s concert still had her teeth vibrating as she trudged past the yellow cabs dropping off passengers to the Long Island Railroad. The city was covered in muddy slush, and fresh flurries transformed the streets into one of those holiday postcards her mom had liked to collect. Gigi popped into a deli for a piping hot café con leche, extra sugar, and a bacon egg and cheese on a roll.
“Thanks, Gus!” she shouted to the large Greek man setting up for the day. She ate the sandwich in three giant bites.
He chuckled. “Chew your food, you’re going to choke on your bacon.”
She grinned sheepishly. “I got a couple of gigs before I can go home.”
“You work too hard, kid.” Gus clucked his tongue. “You’re a beautiful girl. You gotta enjoy yourself while you still can. Otherwise, you’ll be like me, too tired to have a life.”
Gigi had heard that a million times. Friends, family, coworkers, and even her favorite deli guy always reminded her that she was a catch. She knew she was a catch. She just didn’t think she was quite ready to be caught.
“I do enjoy myself!” she said. “And I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”
Every single job she got outside her main gig at the Garden was because of her wide network of friends and family. Gigi had the rare gift that she could turn a stranger into a new friend. It was a quality she’d gotten from both her parents, which was how they’d ended up hosting the biggest, loudest, funnest Nochebuena party on the block for years. On the first holiday season without them, Gigi was afraid she’d bomb the whole tradition. It was why her loved ones had insisted she get a little R&R and come back refreshed for the party. Gigi never took a sick day. She never declined an opportunity for a side job. It had been so long since she’d had a date, she barely recognized when someone was flirting with her anymore.
There was no rest for the wickedly ambitious, as they said.
Gigi polished off her breakfast, then split before Gus could try to set her up with his nephew again. She didn’t have time for romance. Not the kind that she dreamed about. The kind that surprised you and left you feeling like your heart had gone a round in the Tea Party ride at Coney Island. And besides, after a string of disastrous and disappointing dates, Gigi had stopped trying to make something happen. Instead, she focused on making sure she could afford her sister’s tuition and save for a future that felt ever-changing.
With her new caffeine rush, she hurried to catch the train to Midtown, where the Park Central Vista hotel was waking up with early bird guests coming and going. Martha Weinberg, the hotel’s night shift manager, was waiting for her in the glittering lobby. Gigi had gone to Hunter with Martha’s daughter where they’d dreamt about producing Broadway shows. Katie was doing exactly that, while Gigi had gone down another path. Martha always threw extra jobs her way, and Gigi did what she did best. She talked to the wires and bulbs. Not every job was as easy as unplugging and plugging it back in. This wiring was simple enough but required the patience Gigi had honed over the years. Sometimes Gigi thought people were just like light fixtures—veins instead of wires, blood instead of electricity, souls instead of light. Only sometimes, she preferred one over the other.
Half an hour later, Martha handed Gigi a red envelope with her cash fee. In her rush to get to her next stop, Gigi raced out the lobby and collided into a plush winter coat at the front steps.
“Oof!” she said as she bounced back. She felt someone grab her arm and keep her steady.
It took her a moment to truly get a look at the man in front of her. She registered his eyes. Rich and brown and fringed by thick lashes which caught the dusting of flurries like some startled winter prince. His face shifted from irritation at being bumped into and slowly moved into pleased shock.
He was something right out of her fantasies, dressed in an extravagantly embroidered beige coat, a wide flat-brimmed fedora, and sleek black dress shoes that were not appropriate for the cold. The drip was exquisite. He was exquisite. Her heart gave a soft squeeze as he kept smiling at her.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, and hurried away.
He took a step toward her and extended his hand, but she was already out of reach. If he was some Latin Pop Star Prince, she was no Cinderella. Still, she glanced back once to see him folding himself into the back of a black Lincoln.
Gigi hurried through the rest of her morning. She swung by Saint Cecilia’s in Brooklyn for a quick job arranging lighting cues for the school’s Christmas Talent Pageant, and then by noon she’d missed the F train and instead took the G to the 7 and walked the rest of the way instead of waiting for the bus.
When she passed Astoria Bookshop, she knew she was almost home. The year her parents had moved into the redbrick house with a narrow front yard, they’d put all their savings into it. Back then, it had been worth under a hundred thousand dollars. Now, she was getting offers from eager gentrifiers for a million bucks. As tempted as she was—she didn’t think she could do it.
“Finally!” came Lily’s cry from the kitchen as she opened the door. As a senior in high school, it was her final winter break, and naturally the one time she didn’t want to sleep in. “You have to pack! Your flight leaves in four hours! And Leila said if you miss the spa appointment Vivi will kill you…”
As Lily buzzed around, ticking off the things waiting for Gigi in South Beach, Gigi shrugged out of her jacket, and realized she’d been walking around all day with ketchup on her shirt. Not to mention she hadn’t deep conditioned her curls in a month and her warm golden-brown skin looked sallow.
Her biggest worry was leaving Lily alone. But she reminded herself that Lily was a good kid, and Leila and Héctor would swing by and check in on her to make sure she hadn’t burned down the place.
“It’s only two days,” Gigi reminded herself as she shoved toiletries and chargers in her carry-on. She’d get some sun. Have some cocktails. Then come right home. With every second, she was finally on board with her vacation in…forever.
What was the worst that could happen?