Eggnog & Evergreen

08 • Home (or What's Become of It)

"So." Nik's raspy voice breaks the silent night (kill me). "Do you want to talk about it?"

"This nightmare? No thanks, I'm already living it." I exhale a steamy cloud of breath again.

"I meant whatever has clearly got you so worked up," Nik corrects me.

"Don't do that," I say, holding up a hand to just stop him from speaking.

"Do what?"

"Pretend to know me," I frown, creasing my brows. "As anything other than the girl you're stuck in a sleigh with."

"I'm hardly stuck," he grins. "And you're hardly a girl."

The way he says it -I know he means well. But well means nothing to me.

"Your charm won't work on me," I tell him. "Don't bother trying."

"I wasn't trying," Nik says flatly. I'm thankful that my whole face is rosy red or else he might have seen me flush with embarrassment. "But good to know."

Arduous conversation is something I never had to deal with while dating Preston. He lived to crush an awkward moment. I find myself breathing in sync with the bells jangling on Trotter's collar.

"First time home in a while?" Nik finally asks.

"Let me guess, the heels gave it away? Or was it my coat? Or the fact that I don't blend in with everything else around here?" My words bite just like the wind.

"Your mother told me." He frowns.

"Oh," I sigh. "Sorry. It's just-"

"Your first time home in a while." Nik finishes my thought for me.

I steal a glance at him and note the smile on his face. Really, he's quite handsome for a woodlander. I don't completely loathe his beard even.

"When did you move here?" I blurt out.

"Who says I moved here?" Nik asks.

"Please. Growing up, I knew everyone in the whole square mile of this town," I remind him. "You can take the girl out of her hometown, but the hometown will forever be stuck in the girl's brain."

"Ha-Ha."

My ears perk at his sultry, deep laugh.

No, Noe! Stop.

"I moved here in January," Nik tells me.

"Then congratulations for almost making it one full year," I tease. I fight a smile lurking from the depths of my soul.

Do NOT let him melt your icy core, Noe!

"It's not so bad. Some great scenery around here," he says.

"Got that right."

I stretch into the pile of blankets in the sleigh, letting my head fall backwards. One thing I did miss about this place: The stars at night.

"Bet you're not used to seeing a night sky like this," Nik says, looking up with me.

"They have stars in New York," I huff.

"But they don't make them like this," Nik counters, perceptively.

Nik unscrews the cap on a thermos that magically materialized from nowhere. He pours out what looks like soupy, creamy eggs.

I watch the stars twinkling and going about their own business, just enjoying themselves.

"They remind me of Christmas lights, this time of year."

"And you had to ruin it," I rebuke.

"What?" Nik asks, incredulous. "You have a thing against Christmas lights in New York? Let me guess -Something I can't ask about since I'm just a chauffeur."

"Rude," I bite back. I cross my arms over my chest. "But true."

We pass through the town's square park and cross over Main Street. Everything is just as I remember it. Though, admittedly I've never seen it from a reindeer-drawn sleigh before.

As predicted and as promised, the first thing that comes into view when we pull onto my street is the towering pine. It's so illuminated, it's creating the illusion of a sunny sky.

"This is you, city girl," Nik says, as we stop at the end of my driveway.

"Please stop. Not even going to ask how you knew where I lived."

I hop down from the sleigh, ignoring Nik's outstretched hand.

He pulls my duffle bag from the sleigh and holds the strap out to me.

"Thanks," I say, taking it.

"Well," Nik says, tucking his thumbs into his jean pockets again. "Merry Christmas?"

I can tell he's almost asking a question, rather than delivering a jovial wish.

"Sure. That."

For one solid, momentarily lapse in judgment second, I think Nik shifts forward. I relish in the awkward moment before spinning on my now-ruined heels and making my way to the door.

I watch from the top step of my parents' front porch (decked with holly garland and dangling cinnamon sticks). Nik climbs back into the sleigh and gives a soft tug on Trotter's reins. I faintly hear a soft click-click sound.

The sleigh's silhouette shrinks smaller and smaller.

Now that I am rid of my unwanted muscly, five o'clock-shadowed, pine smelling lumberjack, it's onto the truly daunting task.

My fingers fumble on the cold steel doorknob before twisting it open.

...

My parents must be nestled, all snug in their beds, because there's no way anyone is awake in this house. It's so quiet you can almost hear the Mouse King and his minions scurrying along the floorboards.

I creep through my childhood home, noting what's changed and, more so, what's not. I spot my hand-crocheted stocking hanging from the bronze snowflake holder. The Christmas tree lights were left on, and they cast a warm glow over the tree's domain.

Gifts are stacked high.

Potpourri globes occupy the center coffee table.

A just-snuffed candle's clove spice lingers in the air.

So this is home, or what's become of it.

Even beneath all the holiday glitz and glamour (if you can call it that), it still smells the same. It's like I stepped inside and was consequently enveloped by comfort, shrouded in a safe space. Maybe Deja was right. This is exactly what I didn't know I needed.

The grandfather clock in the corner reveals the time. 2:02 AM. This is what happens when you travel by sleigh. Time gets away.

After removing my boots and laying my coat on the chintz chair beside the crackling fire, I tiptoe down the hallway. It's a familiar route, and unsurprisingly nothing has changed. The only new addition is a life-size nutcracker sentry outside the bathroom door.

I stop just short of my room when my phone vibrates in my back pocket.