Kissmas Wishes (Love In All Seasons 3)

I wash my hair and stand in the shower until the water turns cold. When I step out of it, I wrap a plush towel around my body. Part of me hopes that Filson is still in my bedroom waiting to say something. Anything, but he's not there.

The bed has been made. His shoes are gone. The house is quiet and empty.

Tying on my bathrobe, I slide my feet into my slippers and go downstairs to the kitchen, preheating the oven for my forgotten gingerbread.

I hear a noise on the roof, and I peek my head outside the curtains. Filson has a ladder propped against the house and he’s putting up Christmas lights. It should make me smile. Christmas was always Granny's favorite time of year and in turn, it became mine, but right now I can't smile,

Yes, Filson is doing something nice for me, but I don't want nice right now. I want to love and be loved but it doesn't seem like he's in a place to offer it.

Needing a distraction, I call Annabelle and invite her over. “I don’t know, babe. I have so much Christmas shopping to do,” she says.

“Where are you shopping?”

She snorts. “A glorious place called Amazon dot com.”

I smile, putting on the tea kettle. “Bring your laptop. We can watch Christmas movies while you shop.”

“I’m not rewatching A Prince for Christmas,” she warns. “You made me watch that four times last year.”

“There’s a cute new one on Netflix. Just come over.”

Annabelle opens my front door without a knock. She takes one look at me rolling out a pie crust as the gingerbread bakes and knows something is wrong.

“You only bake when things have gone to shit. What happened?”

I swallow, lifting the rolled crust from the counter and setting it over the pie pan. “Did you see Filson outside?”

She nods. “I assume you hired him as a handyman to get this house some curb appeal.”

“Something like that,” I say, not wanting to tell her that only an hour ago I lost my virginity. It feels sacred — like something that is Filson’s and mine alone.

“How’d you even talk him into it? Isn’t he working like twenty-four-seven on that house on Peacock Lane?”

“I don’t know anything about that,” I say, miffed that my best friend might know more about Filson than I do.

She shrugs, pulling off her coat. “He just mentioned it when he was in the bank last week.”

I frown. “Why was he in the bank?”

Annabelle gives me a look that says I sound crazy. “Um, maybe to deposit a check?” She laughs. “Why do you care about him? He’s the town Grinch and you’re the town Mary Lou Who.”

“I am not.” I turn from her and take the gingerbread from the oven. I blink back tears because whatever good girl reputation I’ve had for my entire life is out the window.

And not because I slept with Filson, but because I have poorly managed my money to such a degree that I’m going to lose everything.

Annabelle’s hand is on my back. “Hey, sweetie, don’t cry. It’s okay.”

I wipe my tears, facing her. “Is it though? Because I won’t even have a place to live when the bank takes my house.”

She shakes her head adamantly. “No, you’re gonna sell it and make enough to get an apartment while you look for a job.”

I swallow. “I have to tell Jody and Isaiah. They deserve the truth so they can look for new jobs.”

Annabelle nods in agreement. “Yeah, you do. But not tonight.” She takes a bottle of wine from her tote bag. “Tonight is all about girl time. Okay?”

I nod, scooping the filling for the chicken pot pie into the crust before placing it in the oven. Annabelle takes two wine glasses from the cabinet and fills them both.

We put on a Christmas movie and I give my opinions on the presents Annabelle picks out for her sister-in-law, her father, her nieces and nephews, and grandma. She has so much family to shop for; so many people in her life, that it brings fresh tears to my eyes.

“Oh, Maple, don’t cry over the movie,” she says, handing me a tissue.

But I’m not crying for the happily ever after that the actor and actress seem to magically find at Christmas.

I’m crying over the fact I don’t have anyone to celebrate the holidays with. And sure, Annabelle says I can join her, but I don’t want to crash another family’s celebration.

“Hey, I forgot to ask,” she says, eyes bright, clearly trying to cheer me up. “Weren’t you going out with Asher today?”

I roll my eyes ready to launch into that catastrophe just as there is a knock on my front door.

It’s Filson.

“Finished the lights,” he says. “If you wanna take a look,”

I slip on my cozy boots and walk outside to the sidewalk to take it in.