12 Days of Mistletoe

3. Bonnie

THREE

bonnie

“Maybe you should move?” says my rule-loving sister.

“Meg!” The girl is stressing me out. “This is my home. I love Cherry Plum. It’s nice and quiet. It’s near the senior center. Besides, any place that would allow a dog would charge me an insane fee. Noel is clean and sweet. She’s quiet and she’s never once had an accident.”

“But this guy sounds serious. He’s going to get you evicted. Better to leave on your own terms than be kicked out. Or talk to Mrs. Elliot about Noel. She’s a service animal. There has to be an exception.”

My heart rate peaks a little with her words, with that unknown future. I run a hand down No-No’s back. She might be right. But then my anxiety tells me with full force that she might be wrong too. What if there isn’t an exception. Then, I’ve outed us and we’d be forced to move. “That’s not the answer.” I clear my throat and change the subject. “When are you and Kal coming home for Christmas?”

“Didn’t Mom tell you? We aren’t coming until New Year’s Eve this year. We’re staying here, in Hawaii, with Alana.”

I groan. “You’re staying with Kal’s mom? But she gets you every day.”

“But never on Christmas. We’ve come home the last two. With Mom and Dad in Georgia?—”

“Wait.” I sit up. “Mom and Dad are going to Georgia? I thought they were waiting.”

“Bonnie, when was the last time you talked to Mom? They’re going. Tomorrow .”

Mom might have mentioned something. Something about needing to be with Nana and Papa, my dad’s parents, for the holidays.

But—alone on Christmas? I’ve never been alone on Christmas before.

I’ve got Noel. And of course, there’s E.J. Eaton and his jolly threats. He’d just love to get us both kicked out of our home by Christmas.

Alone and homeless on Christmas.

I’ve been anxious about the unknown most of my life. I don’t have social anxiety. I have situational anxiety. Anxiety of the unknown. When I face a problem head-on, I truly handle it pretty well. It’s the anticipation of the unknown that’s always given me issues. Noel, breathing exercises, and my little pink pills help though. Mostly Noel.

There’s a reason I do what I do for Canine Compassion for free. Noel has changed my life. She’s given me back my life. I just want that for others.

See? All very noble. E.J. Eaton of A4 cannot say the same—I am certain.

“Bonnie?”

“I’m here. I just didn’t realize I’d be alone on Christmas. ”

“Maybe you should come see me and Kal.” My worry-wart sister sounds a little anxious herself.

I can’t afford that though. I have three jobs as is, all so I can survive and devote the rest of my time to the nonprofit. If I can help a little girl get her Noel now—instead of waiting twenty-three years—it’s worth it.

A small tap on my door stops me from dashing my sister’s hopes to bits. It’s not that I don’t want to go stay with her and Kal in paradise, but it’s not financially feasible right now. Surely, my sensible sister will understand that.

“That’s my door, Meg. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay. Think about it, all right?”

“About moving or visiting you?” I already know the answer.

“Both! Love you, Bon.”

Another tap.

“Love you,” I say before hitting the end button on my phone. “Noel, kennel.”

With the command, my red-headed, mini goldendoodle hops up from my lap and quietly trots off to my bedroom, where her kennel sits with an open-door policy. There is never a reason to close the door. She is that good of a girl. So, take that, Mr. E.J. Eaton!

I pull in a breath and count to five, exhaling with seven counts, letting go of the stress that wants to linger in my shoulders and neck. I peek out the peephole on my apartment door, giving myself all the information I can before opening it up.

I am staring at a broad chest with shoulders that could be boulders. My eyes drag up to a clean-shaven jaw and deliciously thick eyebrows. Mr. Christmas-Came-Early’s dark hair swoops to the side, and he runs one hand through it while he waits for me to open the door.

I do. Because why would I leave my early Christmas gift waiting on the doorstep? That’s rude. That, and there is a very good possibility he is a figment of my imagination. I haven’t had a man knock on this door in quite some time. My anxious ways and attachment to my pup seems to run them off. Still, I open up, and Mr. Dreamy doesn’t disappear. Nope, instead, the bluest eyes I’ve ever beheld take hold of me.

Whew . Somebody turn on the air conditioning. It may be December, but it’s getting warm in here.

“Miss Miller?”

My brows cinch. Why wouldn’t my Christmas gift just refer to me as Bonnie? I’m pretty sure we should be on a first-name basis.

I swallow and remind myself to smile. “Yes. That’s me.”

He holds out a stern hand. It’s not a sweet gesture. That hand does not say Merry Christmas, Bonnie, you’ll never be alone. Not if I can help it .

And then he opens his mouth. “E.J. Eaton.”