Ugly Sweater Weather

"I, ah, no. Lock and I are going to get going. Let you guys and Dasher get used to each other," I said, knowing I should confront him, be an adult and ask what I had done wrong, ask for him to accept my apology because no matter what it was, I was genuinely sorry to have ever upset him in any way. But I couldn't seem to find the courage to bring it up, not when he couldn't even seem to look at me.

So I helped him clean up.

Then I got Lock on his leash, grabbed my purse, and we made our way to the door.

"Hey, Dea," Crosby called as we got into the hall, making me turn back to find him leaning in the doorway, forearm resting on the door jamb.

"Yeah?" I asked, heart skipping, hoping he was going to tell me what I did, give me the chance to make it right.

"I'm done," he said, shaking his head, eyes looking sadder than I'd ever seen them.

"Done?" I repeated, brows furrowing as my mind raced, trying to make those words make sense. But I came up with nothing. "Done with what?"

"Trying to convince you," he told me, shrugging a shoulder casually even though nothing about his face seemed casual to me right then.

"Convince me? Of what?" I asked, feeling like the floor was opening up under my feet, and I was going to fall, get buried. "What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything, Dea. And maybe I should have taken that as a sign months or a year ago instead of creating this grand plan in my head of doing the Twelve Days of Christmas."

"The Twelve Days of Christmas was my plan. Remember? With my mom," I clarified, taking a step away from confusion and toward concern.

"Yeah, Dea, I remember that part. And I remembered that your plans falling through gave me what I thought would be a golden opportunity."

"To do what? Have Christmas fun with me? We've done that. I've had fun. Haven't you?"

"We always have fun. But that wasn't what I was going for this time. It wasn't enough this time," he said, sighing, closing his eyes for a long second, like he was trying to find some inner strength to keep going.

"What was your plan then?" I asked, watching as his eyes fluttered open.

"To get you to see what I've known pretty much all along. That we're friends, sure, but that there's always been the potential for so much more than that. But the past ten dates haven't gotten me any closer to convincing you of that, I don't think."

"Wait," I said, all my thoughts swirling around, most of them refusing to slow down fast enough for me to grab onto them. "Is that why you were weird at the shelter? Because you hadn't convinced me that—"

"I was off at the shelter because I saw you fall in love with a dog in point-two seconds. I've been standing in front of you for years. And you've never even gotten close to feeling that way toward me."

"Crosby, Dasher is a dog. It's... it's different," I insisted, my stomach wobbling, petrified I was losing something, someone, so important to me.

"Maybe," he agreed, eyes sad, and everything in me wanted to reach out, to wrap my arms around him, but the words he was saying were making it clear he wanted boundaries. "Still," he went on, "I'm done."

"No," I objected, heart cracking right down the middle. "No, we can't be done. You're too important to me," I told him, hearing the crack in my voice even as I felt the sting of tears in my eyes.

"I'm not saying we can't be friends, Dea. I'm just saying maybe we need some space. And that I'm not going to try to convince you of anything anymore. I think I've made my feelings clear by now. And I'm pretty sure you've done the same. Goodnight."

And with that, he pushed off the door jamb, closed, and locked the door, leaving me and Lock in the hallway feeling like I'd just gone through the worst break-up of my life, like all the love I had for him was bleeding out, like all that space leftover made room for nothing but grief to slip in.

A loud choked whimper escaped me, echoing back to me in the empty hallway, startling me enough to remember where I was, that I couldn't have the epic breakdown I felt coming in a public place.

Lock jogged alongside me as we made our way out of the building, onto the street, hailing a cab because I was feeling too shitty to walk or wait for an Uber.

I had to admit, I'd lived in the city for years without the right of passage that was a complete meltdown in the back of a cab.