Let It Snow: Three Holiday Romances

Gee, thanks, I wanted to say. But I held my tongue.
“You’ve got this . . . light about you,” he said, turning red. “You make people feel special, like maybe
there’s a light in them, too. But then if you never call them, or if you, you know, kiss some asshole behind
their back . . . ”
My vision blurred, and not just because Nathan was suddenly saying things that instead of being rude
were dangerously close to sweet. I stared at the floor.
“It’s just cruel, Addie. It’s really cold.” He gestured at a bag of Doggy de Lites by my boot. “Pass me
that, will you?”
I bent down and picked it up.
“I don’t mean to be cold,” I said awkwardly. I handed him the Doggy de Lites. “And I’m not trying to
make  excuses.”  I  swallowed,  surprised  by  how  much  I  needed  to  say  this  to  someone  who  was  Jeb’s
friend and not mine. “But sometimes I need someone to shine a little light on me, too.”
The muscles of Nathan’s face didn’t move. He let my comment hover between us, just long enough for
regret to start pressing in.
Then he grunted. “Jeb’s not exactly the most demonstrative guy,” he acknowledged.
“You think?”
“But get a grip. When it comes to you, he’s totally whupped.”
“Was whupped,” I said. “Not anymore.” I felt a tear, and then another, make its way down my cheek,
and I felt like a fool. “Yeah. I’m going now.”
“Hey, Addie,” Nathan said.
I turned.
“If we get another teacup pig, I’ll call you.”
I looked past his acne and his Star Trek shirt and saw just plain Nathan, who, as it turned out, wasn’t
always annoying, either.

---

“Thanks,” I said.

---

Chapter Thirteen
A
s soon as I was ten feet away from the pet store, I fished out the pilfered receipt. On the “item” line,
Nathan had scrawled, pig. Where the credit-card info was printed, it said, Constance Billingsley.
I swiped away my tears with the back of my hand and took a steadying breath. Then I sent a psychic
message to Gabriel: Don’t worry, little guy. I’ll get you to Tegan, where you belong.
First, I called Christina.
“Where are you?” she said. “Your break ended five minutes ago.”
“About  that,”  I  said.  “I’m  having  a  bit  of  an  emergency,  and  before  you  ask,  no,  this  is  not  an  Addie
moment. This particular emergency is about Tegan. I have to do something for her.”
“What do you have to do?”
“Uh,  something  important.  Something  life-or-death,  although  don’t  worry,  no  one’s  actually  going  to
die.” I paused. “Except me, if I don’t get it done.”
“Addie,” Christina said. Her tone that suggested I pulled this kind of crap all the time, which I did not.
“Christina, I’m not fooling around, and I’m not being dramatic just to be dramatic. I swear.”
“Well, Joyce just clocked in,” she said grudgingly, “so I suppose the two of us can cover things.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’ll be back in the quickest jiffy possible.” I started to hang up, but
Christina’s tinny voice said, “Wait—hold on!”
I raised the phone back to my ear, antsy to be on my way. “What?”
“Your friend with the dreads is here.”
“Brenna? Ugh. Not my friend.” I had a horrible thought. “She’s not with anyone, is she?”
“She’s not with Jeb, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Thank God. Then why are you telling me?”
“Just thought you’d be interested. Oh, and your dad came by. He said to tell you he took the Explorer.”
“He . . . what?!” My gaze flew to the north end of the parking lot. There was a rectangle of smushed
snow where I’d parked the Explorer. “Why? Why in the world did he take my car?”
“Your car?”
“His car, whatever. What was he thinking?”
“No idea. Why, do you need it for your thing?”
“Yes, I need it for my thing. And now I have no clue how I’m going to—” I broke off, because ranting to
Christina wouldn’t help.
“Never mind, I’ll figure it out,” I said. “Bye.”
I hit the end button, then called my voice mail.
“You have three new messages,” the recording said.
Three? I thought. I’d only heard my phone ring once—although I guess things got kind of loud when the
Doggy de Lites came crashing down.
“Addie, it’s Dad,” Dad said on message number one.
“Yes, Dad, I know,” I said under my breath.
“I rode into town with Phil, because your mom needs some groceries. I’m taking the Explorer, so don’t
worry if you look out and see that it’s gone. I’ll swing by to pick you up at two.”
“Nooooo!” I cried.
“Next  message,”  my  phone  informed  me.  I  bit  my  lip,  praying  that  it  was  Dad  saying,  “Ha-ha,  just
kidding. I didn’t take the Explorer; I just moved it. Ha-ha!”

---

It wasn’t Dad. It was Tegan.
“Hola, Addikins!” she said. “Do you have Gabriel? Do ya, do ya, do ya? I cannot wait to see him. I
found a heat lamp down in the basement—remember that year my dad was trying to grow those tomatoes?
—and I set it up so Gabriel will stay warm in his little bed. Oh, and while I was down there, I found my
old American Girl stuff, including a Barcalounger that is just the right size for him. And a backpack with a
star on it, though I’m not sure he’ll need a backpack. But you never know, right? Okay, um, call me. Call
me as soon as you can. The snowplow is two streets over, so if I don’t hear from you, I’ll just head on
over to Starbucks, ’kay? Bye!”
My stomach sank all the way to my toes, and I stood there dumbly as my voice mail announced the final
message. It was Tegan again. “Oh, and Addie?” she said. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Well, that made me feel better.
I  shut  my  phone,  cursing  myself  for  not  going  to  Pet  World  at  the  crack  of  nine  like  I’d  planned.  But
rather than whimper pathetically, I had to deal with it. The old me would have stood here feeling sorry for
myself  until  I  got  frostbite  and  my  toes  fell  off,  and  good  luck  finding  strappy  heels  to  wear  on  New
Year’s Eve then, buster. Not that I had anywhere to go wearing strappy heels. But whatever.
The new me, however, was not a whimperer.
So. Where could I get a last-minute pig-rescue car?

---

Chapter Fourteen
C
hristina? Not an option. She got dropped off this morning by her boyfriend, per usual. Joyce, the barista
whose shift just started, was also without car. Joyce walked to work no matter what the weather was like
and wore one of those personal pedometers to measure how many steps she took.
Hmm,  hmm,  hmm.  Not  Dorrie  and  not  Tegan,  because  (a)  their  street  was  still  being  plowed
(hopefully), and (b) no way was I going to tell them why I needed said car.
Not Brenna, heaven forbid. If I asked her to take me to the south end of town, she’d drive north just to
spite me. And she’d blast her reggae-emo-fusion crap, which sounded like drugged-out ghouls.
Which  left  only  one  person.  One  evil,  charming,  too-handsome-for-his-own-good  person.  I  kicked  a
whump of snow, because he was the last person in the world I ever wanted to call, ever ever ever.