An Ex for Christmas (Love Unexpectedly 5)

I laugh and punch his shoulder, the doubt receding slightly at his teasing.

He glances over. “You tell yours?”

“Absolutely not,” I say, turning on the radio. Only a couple more days of Christmas music left—gotta get my fill. “My parents already harbor the secret dream that you and I will fall in love and make babies. I don’t want to fuel the fire.”

The words slip out jokingly (although it’s true, my parents really do wish that), but the second they’re out there, they echo between us awkwardly, and I’d give anything to take them back.

Adding insult to injury, Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You” comes on the radio, and though I’ve never thought about it, the song’s actually pretty romantic.

So now I’ve mentioned the words “love” and “babies” against the soundtrack of “I just want you for my own.” The song has never felt more poignant…or more true.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the realization rips through me. Mark is what I want for Christmas.

And not just for Christmas, not just right now. The thought of not being with him feels wrong, even though every sign has pointed to us not belonging together.

Our signs are all wrong. I’m a Gemini, he’s a Virgo. Nightmare.

He’s not a former love come to find me before Christmas, he’s a new love.

There have been no signs, no signals, and my grandma always said that when something is right, the universe will let you know it. It’ll point you right to it, no questions, no hesitations.

None of that’s been even remotely true with Mark, and yet…

What if I’m in love with him anyway? What if I’m wonderfully, uncontrollably, irreversibly in love with my best friend?

I let out a choked little giggle and he gives me an alarmed look.

Mariah keeps singing. “I just want you for my own…more than you could ever know….”

Wrong, Mariah. He could know. I could tell him. I should tell him. He’s my best friend, I tell him everything, how can I not tell him…

Mark lifts his hand to wave at someone out his window, slowing the car as we approach the parking lot allotted for parade parking.

Even with the windows rolled up, I can hear the enthusiasm outside. A live band plays “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.”

And someone must be handing out bells, because all the kids have them, waving them around in messy, joyous cacophony.

Mark’s truck has all but rolled to a stop as we wait for the crowds of people to move so we can pull into a spot, and someone thumps cheerfully on the hood and waves.

It’s Jack Chance, the first ex-boyfriend I sought out in my whole weird ex list thing. He’s got his arm around a pretty blonde I don’t recognize, and looks happy and relaxed.

“Every year, I forget how popular this damn thing is,” Mark says as a volunteer ushers him into an available parking spot behind the arts and crafts store.

I nod, unable to bring myself to speak. I need to. I need to tell him, but with every second, it feels like the moment is slipping away.

He turns off the ignition and gives me a curious look. “What’s up with you?”

Oh, nothing. Just crazy over-the-moon in love with you, and not at all sure you feel anything more than passing horniness for me.

I have to tell him.

But I can’t. Because all I can think is that if this is one-sided, I’ll lose him.

Mariah’s “All I Want for Christmas” ends.

A commercial plays.

Moment over.