Merry Ex-Mas

“That this is for a special lady. No lie.” He uncorked the thermos and pulled two disposable cups from his coat pocket.

As he poured she remembered how good he’d always been at romantic gestures—creating a dish and naming it after her, taking her over the mountains to Seattle one year to look at Christmas lights and then spending the night in a downtown hotel, hiding a bit of anniversary bling under her pillow.

What romantic things had he done for Ariel?

He handed over her hot chocolate. Then he poured himself a cup and capped the thermos. “To new beginnings,” he said, and raised his cup to her.

She said nothing in return, just took a sip and looked away.

“Or the hope of new beginnings,” Richard amended.

In your dreams, Charley thought, and downed some more.

Kirk was up in the sleigh now. He clicked his tongue and gave the horses’ rumps a gentle slap with the reins and they lurched forward.

Good thing her cocoa was half-gone, or she’d have been wearing it. And that would have been a shame because it was delicious. This was no instant stuff, she could tell. It had been made with cream and fine Dutch chocolate. Chocolate, the way to a girl’s heart.

But not this girl’s. Richard would never find his way back to hers, not even with a GPS made of solid Sweet Dreams dark.

Still, she decided, she might as well enjoy the ride.

There was plenty to enjoy. The sleigh ride was everything it should be. They wooshed past fir and pine trees clad in frosty white and open fields that beckoned them to come play in the snow, and all the while the sleigh bells on the horses’ harnesses jingled. The air was crisp and Charley could see her breath but the cocoa and the blanket kept her warm. Meanwhile, Richard was looking at her like he was a starving man and she a six-course meal. The best salve in the world for wounded pride.

Except it had been Richard who’d wounded her pride in the first place. Starvation was too good for him.

“This is perfect, isn’t it?” he said, and placed an arm around her shoulders.

She slid out from under it. “Almost.”

He was smart enough not to ask what kept it from being perfect.

They turned onto a path that led down a small incline and took them under a canopy of snowy tree boughs. This was magical. Charley sighed and leaned back against the seat cushions.

Up front Kirk was crooning a song about lovely weather for a sleigh ride.

“With you,” Richard whispered. “Aw, Charley, there’s no one like you.”

“You’re right,” she agreed.

“I’m just sorry I had to learn that the hard way.”

“Yes, you are a sorry man,” she said, making him frown. And that made her snicker.

* * *

After a brunch that involved several glasses of champagne she’d switched from snickering to giggling.

“I drank too much,” she realized as he drove her home.

“Maybe a little,” he said.

“Why did you let me drink so much champagne?” She groaned. “I’m going to have the mother of all headaches later.”

“Well, we can fix that,” he said. “You just need some water, and lucky for you I’ve got Perrier.”

She eyed him. “You thought of everything, didn’t you?”

“And then some,” he replied with a smile.

She shivered, but not because of what his smile did to her. She’d gotten chilled on the sleigh ride, that was the problem.

“How about I build you a fire?” he offered as they pulled up in front of the house that used to be theirs.