Mistletoe

Untitled Part 1

SUMMARY:  A Christmas-themed fanfic that accompanies "Broken & Beautiful."

NOTES:  This short story was written back in December of 2022. I had intended to make this Chapter 13 of "Broken & Beautiful," but I wanted to release it in time for Christmas.

TIMELINE:  After the Chapter 12 of "Broken & Beautiful."

~*~*~*~

It's Christmas night, and the restaurant is packed. I don't know what it's like on the second floor, but there is not a single table on the first floor that isn't filled to capacity. I don't know why Howard insisted on playing instrumental Christmas music in the background, because it can barely be heard over the din. And I have never been so glad that I'm not a member of the wait staff. If they're not racing about like chickens with their heads cut off, they're forced to deal with cranky guests who haven't been touched by the holiday spirit.

Then again, who am I to talk? I'm really no better than them. Granted, I haven't snapped at anyone. But there is definitely a cloud constantly hanging over my head. There's a storm brewing, and I fear that the slightest thing could set off "Hurricane Lilah."

Despite his best efforts, Jake never could convince Simone to go to the Cape without him. Goodness forbid a 37-year-old should attend a Christmas party by herself, just this once. Apparently, she needs Jake to sit in a corner and get drunk while she "makes nice," with people she doesn't like because they have "connections." Never mind the fact that Jake hates the Cape with a passion. Never mind the fact that he'd rather celebrate Christmas with me, the woman who loves him. Nope! It's all about Simone. Well, I say screw her! Screw Simone and her pretentious friends in their fancy house in the Cape.

Well, the joke's on her. The weather took a turn for the worse, which mean that neither she nor Jake can get out of the city. The problem is: Jake is stuck in a car with Simone because traffic is backed up. So even though he's still in NYC, we still won't spend Christmas together. And although the snow has stopped falling, that doesn't mean that the temperature has improved. The one thing I can thank Simone for is the fact that she had the presence of mind to make sure that there were a few blankets in the car, just in case.

"If you scrub at that bar top any harder, you're going to start a fire."

I look over at Sam, the older gentleman who's covering for Jake, but I don't stop what I'm doing. "Sorry, Sam. I just can't seem to get this sticky stuff off of here," I lie. The truth is: when I'm stressed or just plain angry, I clean. After that argument with Jake in the basement, I took my anger out on every cobweb and dust mite imaginable. I usually keep my home neat and tidy, but I've never seen it look so clean.

"Mm-hmm."

I glance at him again. He's observing me as he polishes a glass. What's this guy's problem? Can't I attack an imaginary spill in peace?

"Holiday stress getting to you?"

"You could say that," I respond, moving on to another spot.

"Were you able to spend time with family for the holidays?"

I know he means well; that he's just making small talk. He's a nice guy, but he's really pushing my buttons. I remain polite as I respond "I don't have family."

Not in the traditional sense, anyway. True, John and Maggie Kincaid adopted me. They did right by me when I was a kid. They raised me. Fed me. Clothed me. Taught me right from wrong. Saw to it that I received a good education and a normal upbringing. And there was a time when I thought they loved me. Then I went through my rebellious stage, and they eventually wrote me off. We haven't spoken in years, in spite of my best efforts to reach out to them.