Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
“Right,” I said, still surprised by everything he was telling me. “I just don’t know if he’d care at all to see me. I mean, he barely knows me.”
It was a lie.
On one hand, I really didn’t know Rome all that well. But I sure as hell knew him better than Justin realized.
“We always get fresh baked cinnamon rolls from this Swiss bakery in downtown Denver,” Justin said. “My dad said he isn’t even going to bother with them this year. Listen, you don’t have to hang out with my dad, or anything. But you could bring him those cinnamon rolls, maybe? Make him feel like he’s not completely depressed and alone on that night?”
“I could,” I said.
“I would owe you, big time,” Justin said. “I have more frequent flier miles than I know what to do with, so I’ll book you a trip to Hawaii, or something.”
I puffed out a laugh. “You don’t have to repay me that much. Just get me some beers when you’re back in town.”
He laughed. “Fine, fine,” he said, sighing. “I really am just worried about him, Case. And you guys got along great at the tree lot.”
“Of course,” I said. “I like your dad. Quite a lot, actually.”
Justin snorted. “Hey, you should just date him. That’ll solve everyone’s problems, right?”
I swore I would have melted into a fucking puddle of molten lava if I hadn’t been walking outside in the cold.
“Justin, don’t joke about that shit—”
“What?” he said, on one of his riffs, now. “You’d finally get a boyfriend, he’d get a new chapter in life, and I’d get to stop worrying about my poor, lonely father. What? It would be a total win-win situation if you dated my dad.”
He was giggling about it on the other end of the phone, amusing himself while I felt like I was going to explode.
“Quit it,” I said. “Did you take magic mushrooms over there in Vegas, or something? You’re nuts.”
“You’ve always needed to loosen up a little,” he protested. “Come on. It’s not like I’m some prude.”
“I’m not a prude, either,” I said. “But you’d never speak to me again if I dated your dad, and you know it.”
“I’m just kidding, man. Also, just because I’m a tech bro with a fancy haircut now doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly become uptight. I’m a hippie at heart, always and forever. Anything goes.”
“Right, right.”
“Not that my dad would ever actually date you, in reality—”
“Excuse me?” I interjected. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Justin laughed again. “Offended much, Case?”
“Shut up.”
“You’ll see, if you hang out with him a little bit on Christmas. He’s so old school. He’d probably think I’d freak out if he even gave you a glance. I don’t give a damn what he does, as long as he’s happy.”
If only you knew, I thought.
“I know you want him to be happy,” I reassured him.
“He did say he was looking at dating apps a few months ago. I don’t know. I’m sure he’ll find someone soon.”
I pulled in a long breath of cold air as I rounded the corner onto my quiet street. “I’ll give him cinnamon rolls and a little bit of company on Christmas night. Text me the name of the bakery.”
“You’re a godsend, Case.”
“It’ll be fun for me, too. No big deal.”
Maybe it would actually turn out to be true. Maybe it would be nice to have a bookend for my memories with Rome that wasn’t laced with so much heartache.
I could be a friend to him. Not some failed hookup.
All I had to do was show up, give him some cinnamon rolls, and remind him that he wasn’t alone.
I could control my desires for one night, on Christmas.
Easy.
10
ROME
I had the day plotted out perfectly. I knew I was going to have to fill my time this Christmas, keeping myself busy so that I wouldn’t dwell on the fact that Justin was away, I was on my own, and I had no plans with any other family.
The plan went great, until it didn’t.
The early hours of the day were easy, with making my own Christmas roast, lighting candles around the house, and calling up distant relatives to wish them well. During the afternoon, I stayed busy outside while the roast was in the oven, finally shoveling the bunches of snow that had fallen over the last couple of days, and clearing out my front path and sidewalk. Dinner was amazing, and I ate even better than I usually did when my son was around.
It was nighttime when everything all went haywire.
I drank too much wine, and then made the mistake of switching to whiskey. The problem wasn’t that it felt bad—the problem was that it felt too good, sinking into the warm embrace of tipsiness then drunkenness as seven-thirty rolled around.
When the carolers came down my street, a creeping sense of loneliness seeped in and quickly took hold of the evening.