12 Days of Mistletoe

20. Bonnie

TWENTY

bonnie

A December breeze hits just before I zip my jacket, making its way over every nook and cranny of my exposed skin. I bundle my winter coat, zipping it closed, but it’s too late. I’m freezing. Espresso Yourself, with their piping coffee and muffins straight from the oven, is only one block away though. I can make it.

I shiver and Elliot peers over at me.

“Cold?”

“I’m okay.”

“You can use my gloves.” He holds one out to me, the other already on his hand.

“I’m fine. Really. It’s just one block.”

Elliot clears his throat, his eyes back on the sidewalk in front of us. “Bonnie, can I apologize now ?” He glances over at me. “I mean, again. Like I should have before.”

“No need.” I blow out a slow and steady breath, a trail of cold smoke leaving my mouth.

“Please, I want to.” His steps slow and he lifts a hand to my elbow. “I was rude and thoughtless. And despite the way I’ve represented myself to you the past six months, I’m not normally either of those things.”

“Elliot—”

“I know that Noel is much more than a pet.” He peers down at my goldendoodle padding along in between us. “Clearly, I don’t understand it completely. Not the way you do. But I do know it. My words were quick and judgmental. I didn’t mean them to be. But they were. I hope you can forgive me.” He clears his throat. “ Again .”

I nibble on my bottom lip, pausing in front of the coffee house doors. A man walks outside and warm, bitter, and mouthwatering smells waft out from inside the little café. My Arctic body fills with warmth and I’m not sure if it’s the coffee house or Elliot’s words.

I blink and swallow down the trepidation that I’m suddenly feeling. “Thank you. I may have overreacted a little.” I swallow, and before he can apologize again, I add, “You’re forgiven.”

“Should we go in before you freeze to death?” His hand lifts, the back of his fingers brushing over the apple of my cheek.

Another shiver runs through me and I’m thankful for the excuse of the weather to blame it on. I nod, but I don’t say anything.

No one has made my stomach flutter in years. And I’m afraid that Elliot just did. Again .

We walk up to the counter, my order already in my head. There’s only ten dollars on that card and one drink is going to be at least five. With tax, one of us will have to spare a few dimes at the least.

“Why don’t you have an actual girlfriend?” I ask, digging into my pocket. I’m certain I had a dollar or two in there .

“Oh. Uh, well I did for two years, but it didn’t work out.”

That’s right, his mother and his gran mentioned someone else. “Two years is a long time.”

I press my lips together. I’ve never dated anyone that long. I have dated. Not in a while. But never someone for so long. I mean, senior year of high school I went to prom and a few more dances with Cody Wilde. I dated some in college. That’s where I met Joey. Three months and one little anxiety attack over my rental falling through and Joey decided we were done. He didn’t care that I was about to be homeless—I was “too much” for him. So, I left school without a boyfriend or a degree.

“Who broke things off?” I ask for the sake of research—a girlfriend would know these things about her boyfriend. Right? “I’ll take a decaf blend, medium.”

The guy behind the counter taps my order into his iPad and looks at Elliot.

Elliot clears his throat, his eyes darting from me to the guy waiting to take his order. He gives his attention to the Espresso Yourself employee first. “Chai latte, large.” And then back to me. “It was mutual.”

I wait for the employee to add in Elliot’s order. “So, she broke things off with you?”

“That isn’t what I said. Are you sure that you and Bill aren’t blood-related?”

I snicker. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to figure out what you meant.” I peer over at him, lifting one brow.

Elliot offers up his gran’s gift card and when our order is three dollars more, I search my pockets again.

“I know I have a dollar in here somewhere.”

“I got the large,” Elliot tells me, a hand on my arm stopping my frantic search. “I’ve got it. ”

I watch him pay the man, wondering if I’m allowed to let my fake boyfriend buy me things.

By the time our transaction is complete, our order is ready.

Side by side, we walk to one of the empty tables for two. I sit across from Elliot Eaton, a stranger no more. I have spent the last two days with this man—talking, learning, and with the insistence of his gran, a little kissing too. So, I push the question. “So, what really happened?”

“Don’t you want to ask me my favorite Christmas song? Something a little less intense.”

“Nope. I’m pretty sure your girlfriend would know all about…” I wait, and Elliot doesn’t disappoint.

“Jess,” he says, reminding me of her name.

“So, when did Jess break your heart?”

He sighs. “She didn’t break my heart. Not exactly. It was a mutual breakup and it was ten months ago.”

“Ten months? So, does that mean it’s dead and buried or still fresh?” I honestly don’t know. Thankfully, a month after Joey broke my heart, I got Noel. She healed me right up and it’s possible I never thought of Joey again—until this minute.

He shakes his head, his eyes buried in his latte. “Geez, Bonnie, have you never been through a breakup?”

I sit up a little straighter, sip from my coffee, and give him honesty—because I refuse to be ashamed. “Not really. Once, sort of.”

“Oh.” He follows my lead and adjusts in his seat. “Well, our breakup really did feel mutual at the time. We had a friend ask us about a wedding date once. She assumed we were engaged. We weren’t. When we talked about it later, I realized I didn’t want to ask the question and she realized she didn’t want to say yes. I’d always wanted a home and family and Jess didn’t.”

“Huh.” I set both elbows on the table in front of me and watch Elliot’s face, waiting for any other clues he might offer. “Maybe you did have the first-ever mutual breakup.”

“Yeah, except that four months ago, Jess announced her engagement to her high school boyfriend and I didn’t take it very well.”

“Oh,” I mutter, unsure what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t really know what happened. I just felt… small . Like I wasn’t enough for her. It’s not that she didn’t want those things. She didn’t want them with me.” He folds his hands together. “That’s more than you asked for, isn’t it?”

I shake my head. “That’s exactly what I asked for. I’m sorry you felt that way.”

His brows pinch and he lifts both shoulders. “It’s more confusing than anything. I don’t love Jess. I thought I did at one time. And maybe on a smaller level I did. But we didn’t want the same things. She didn’t get along with my family. There were other things, too, but most of all, even if I ever did love her once, I don’t anymore.” He shrugs both shoulders, letting them fall. For the first time since I met Elliot, the six-foot-four, broad-shouldered, Jolly Green Giant, he does look small. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. You must think I’m pathetic.”

I grunt, and though I mean to smack his hand, I simply lay mine over his. “That’s not true. It’s a testament to your character that you’re willing to share so much.”

His eyes flick down, and I’m not sure he believes me. “What about you? Really no breakups ever.”

“One. But I’m not sure he counts. Joey Saunders. College. We dated. Held hands. Did a little kissing—though your gran would want to give him pointers. And then one not-so-pretty anxiety attack later, he decided we were not right for each other.”

“Ouch, sorry.”

“Believe me. We weren’t right for each other.”

“What about since college? What about your relationships since Joey?”

I lick my lips and swallow past my dry throat, giving Noel’s head a pat. “There haven’t been any.”

“None? I don’t believe you,” he says. “You’re telling me?—”

“Bonnie?” A female voice breaks into whatever Elliot was about to say.

I peer up at my name, recognizing that tone. “Mrs. Jones. Hi.”

“I thought maybe that was you. But Noel gave you away.”

My pup lays at my feet; no one in the coffee shop has even noticed her. Service animals don’t need someone to admit or not admit them; if trained correctly, they’ll stick to their owner like glue and never cause a fuss.

“Of course she did.” A tittering laugh falls from my lips.

Brooke Jones’ eyes drop to my hand—for some reason, it’s still covering Elliot’s. “Who is this?”

“Oh.” I swallow and peer at Elliot. Are we acting for the world or just his family? I don’t remember anymore. “This is my… Elliot . It’s Elliot.”

Elliot gives the woman a small grin and wave.

“Right.” I shake my head. My mother would balk at my impoliteness. “Elliot, this is Brooke Jones.”

Brooke holds out a hand .

Elliot lifts his palm to hers, and with the movement, I stuff both my hands into my lap, wedging them between my thighs.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Elliot nods.

“You look familiar,” Brooke says. “Elliot what?”

And then, for some reason, I decide to offer up Elliot’s name—as if the man can’t do it himself. “Elliot Ee…” But with the rise of my nerves, Elliot’s name does not fall from my lips. Nope, instead, it falls directly out of my head. “I know it,” I say.

Brooke’s brows raise as if she’s waiting for me to prove as much.

“I do. I know it because we’re dating. I kissed him. And I know his last name,” I say like the blubbering idiot I am.

What is it about playing pretend that turns me into a loony person?

“Okay then,” Brooke says, her sweet feminine tone even higher than before.

“It’s Eaton,” Elliot finishes for me, and bless him, with his words, Brooke looks back at him. She’s no longer staring at me.

Brooke’s eyes narrow. “Wait. Eaton? I think you teach my daughter.”

Elliot’s head swivels from Brooke back to me. “Wait. Abigail Jones? Fourth grade, brown hair, red glasses?”

“Yes,” Brooke and I say together.

“What a fun surprise. I had no idea you were dating anyone, Bonnie. And Mr. Eaton of all people.” She smiles. “It is Eaton, right?” She winks at me and I’d like to crawl under this tiny coffee house table.

“Abigail’s the girl you’re helping?” Elliot says.

“She is.” I blink from Elliot to Brooke once more .

“And we appreciate it so much. I could not believe when Sarah called and said you found a donor who specifically wanted to pay for Abby’s dog.” She shakes her head and tears fill her eyes. “I don’t know how you did it.”

I swallow “Actually, with Elliot’s help.”

“You two are a great pair.” She lifts her to-go cup to her chest, her fingers splayed around the coffee sleeve. “I need to go, but I’ll talk to you soon?”

“Sure,” I say. “Tell Abby hello for me.”

I watch Brooke walk out the door, ignoring the fact that Elliot is watching me.

“Abigail Jones?” he says, a little breathless. “You’re helping my student.”

“Technically you’re helping your student.”

“I had no idea you were helping Abigail. You know, once, last year, she had a panic attack in her homeroom class. I’d taught the kids breathing techniques in health the week before and when one of her classmates mentioned it to the teacher, the office called me down. I sat with her for the next hour until her mom picked her up. I didn’t remember Mrs. Jones’ face because I was too focused on Abigail.” He shakes his head again as if in disbelief. “You’re helping Abigail.”

“Her friends call her Abby. I’m guessing she’d consider you a friend.”

Elliot breathes out a laugh. “Can I see what you do down there? I mean, at the nonprofit?”

I sip from my coffee, my nerves rising for no real reason. “Sure.”

“You’re full of surprises, Bon Bon .”

I give him the smallest glare with my nickname—the one I am only okay with my senior citizen friends using. “ Oh, yeah. I’m shocking people all over the Western United States.”

“No really. You’re helping Abby. And you’re single. Consider me shocked.”

“Wait—now you believe me. I thought you didn’t.”

“After that glowing performance, Elliot Eee , I am now a believer. Unless you’re attempting to save your dog, you are a terrible liar.”