“You can do this,” I told him, squeezing his hands. “I’m right here. Even if they think you’re crazy, I know you’re not. And I’ve got your back, no matter what.”
He opened his mouth, and I was sure it was to make the big confession. But then his face reset to stone.
He regarded me coldly, his eyes like black ice. “I’m sending you home to San Francisco.”
My heart dropped at his declaration. “What? No, Hayato, you can’t do that. We had a deal —”
“Embarrassing me in front of my family wasn’t part of our deal,” he answered, his voice flat and mean. “So I’m calling it off.”
Then he turned to Norio before I could protest again. “May I use your car service to return her to the airport? I’ll send her home on my plane, then leave for Japan tomorrow when I get it back.”
My eyes filled with tears as he said that. “Don’t do this, Hayato. Please don’t do this!”
The sound of the bedroom door banging open tears me from that bitter memory. Krista comes charging in belly first.
“Hello-hello, dearest cousin! It’s a bright, beautiful morning!” She throws open the curtains to reveal a surprisingly sunny San Francisco day. “And I’ve decided that you’ve been moping long enough.”
I sit up in bed, all but hissing at the overly bright sun. What the heck, San Francisco? Usually, the human city excels at gray days.
“What do you mean long enough?” I grumble. “I haven’t even been here a day. You moped around the workshop for three days when you and Hugh broke up. Remember?”
“Oh yes, I do remember how Hugh and I made ourselves miserable for three whole days because we insisted on being so stubborn.” Krista tuts and turns off the clock radio right before Stephen Stills can ask what that sound is a second time. “That’s what happens when you deny true love.”
Don’t think I don’t notice that annoying “I know better now” superior note that has crept into her voice. It leaves me feeling pretty defensive as I remind her, “I didn’t deny true love. He did. He called everything off, put me on a plane, and told me to take my butt home.”
That’s exactly what happened. But by the time I’m done explaining what went down in Seattle, I’ve gone from feeling sanctimonious to completely dejected.
“I know, right?!” Krista sounds even more upbeat than before as she makes herself comfortable, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “I tell you, I’m going to have some kind of fun teasing him about that at your wedding.”
I shake my head at her. “What part of ‘called me a psycho and sent my butt home’ are you not getting? There’s not going to be a wedding. Whatever I had with Hayato…”
Heartbreak and regret take turns pummeling me as I realize the utter truth of my next words. “It’s over.”
“True love is never over,” Krista declares, rubbing her pregnant belly. “People just die without ever having claimed it. So sad! But you know, we’ll have to talk about all of that later. I came in here to ask you for a teensy weensy favor. I’m going to need you to take care of the panoply for the next few days…”
I groan. I mean, I genuinely appreciate Krista letting me stay here for the rest of the twelve days of Christmas, so that I wouldn’t have to go back to the workshop.
If the elves are at a 10 for cheerfulness most of the year, they crank their merriment up to 100 during this time. Kringles all over the city put on a ton of parties and events, and the other elves pretty much throw themselves into Bacchanoeling—eating, drinking, and getting merry in bed as much as possible during their twelve days off.
I’m pretty meh on Bacchanoeling, and I don’t like anything with a crowd. But I usually enjoy the huge New Year’s Eve show-and-tell at the workshop where we all take turns presenting the third dimension wonders we’ve found over the first seven days of Christmas. And I especially adore assisting Krista with her daily twelve days of Christmas panoply presentation. Not to stereotype, but elves truly love to help. Plus, when you have a gift like mine, it’s way more fun to hang out with someone who has a talent for matchmaking.
But after what happened with Hayato, I don’t think I can take hanging out with all those crazy cheerful elves.
And as for the panoply, “Trust me, I’m not a good fit to take over that project for you. Humans come expecting a cheerful matchmaker who will hook them up with their one true love. Not a heartbroken elf who will tell them ‘hey sorry, but one of the people you hold dear in your heart… they’re about to die.’”