Santa’s Mistletoe Playbook

Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

DANICA

C hristmas Day

Danica stared at the ceiling, listening to Bryson’s truck back out of the garage and motor down the road. He must have to work on Christmas, if that was where he was heading. She grabbed her phone and bought airfare back to Phoenix. She booked the next flight out of Anchorage.

She showered and dried her hair, then dressed in warm clothes. She gathered her belongings from the bathroom and dumped them into her bag.

Dragging her bags down the stairs, she remembered to reserve an Uber and hoped she wouldn’t get the same driver from a week ago. Danica left a handwritten note, saying she needed time to think and had gone home.

They’d each said hurtful things. The heaviest thing that weighed on her: did she love Bryson enough to join AA when deep down she was certain she wasn’t an alcoholic? Bryson viewed her intolerance as a medical problem and insisted she needed help. Her thoughts were a chaotic mess, and she needed solitary time to untangle them.

When the Uber showed up and she and her bags were loaded, she checked her phone. Bryson hadn’t called or texted to wish her a Merry Christmas. Her face crumpled.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” asked the driver, talking into the rearview mirror.

“Yes. Just sad to be leaving,” she lied. By sheer force of will, she pushed back her tears.

The car pulled up to the departure curb, and the driver unloaded her bags.

“Thank you.” She tipped him, then briskly rolled them inside the automatic double doors.

Once she’d checked in and gone through security, Danica found an isolated seat and took out her phone. Still no word from Bryson. This must mean we’re over. Danica fought back more tears.

“Excuse me, but are you flying to Phoenix, by chance?” an older woman’s voice inquired from two seats away.

Danica glanced at the silver-haired, handsome woman. “Yes, I am.”

“I heard there’s bad weather in Seattle, so I hope we can make our connection. I must get down to see my husband. He’s had a heart attack.”

Danica’s hand flew to her chest. “Oh goodness, I’m so sorry. Where is he?”

“They placed him at a hospice in Phoenix. I’m worried I won’t get there in time if we encounter delays.” She dabbed a tissue at her eyes.

“I’ll check the status of our flights.” Danica tapped her phone, then pointed. “It says our flight to Seattle is on time, and so is the flight from Seattle to Phoenix. You’ll get there,” she assured her.

The woman nodded. “Do you live here in Alaska?”

“I live in Scottsdale. I came up here with my boyfriend because he’s filling in for another doctor at Mercy Hospital in Anchorage.” She failed at trying to sound upbeat.

The woman glanced around. “Is he with you?”

“No.” Danica’s chest ached at her new reality. “He has another week to go.”

“Why are you going back early?” she asked.

Danica hesitated. How should she respond to that? With honesty or make something up so the woman would leave her alone? “We—had a disagreement. I’m going home to sort things out. I really messed things up.” Her voice wavered.

“Sorry to hear that. Relationships are hard sometimes.”

Danica nodded, her brow furrowing. “I don’t think I’m the one for him. I’m his second choice. He had a fiancé before me.”

The woman’s brows lifted in a quizzical expression.

Danica saw no reason to hold back. She told her the entire sordid story of the chaos she’d caused. Starting with her strip club escapade, she recounted ditching the Prius and bumping into Bryson’s sworn enemy—who’d stolen his first fiancée. She finished by saying she hadn’t wanted to come to Alaska in the first place.

The woman listened intently until Danica finished. Then, she asked, “Has it occurred to you that you aren’t the only one at fault?”

Danica shook her head. “Of course, it was all my fault.”

“I beg to differ. From what you’ve told me, your boyfriend talked you into coming up here when you didn’t want to. Despite his knowing how much it meant to you to have a special holiday in a place of your choosing.”

“Yes, but I was taught relationships were all about compromise, that you should do this for the one you love.”

“Do you think the reason you drank was your way of rebelling? To get back at him for pressuring you into what he wanted rather than what you wanted?”

Danica shrugged. “But he did this for work, as a favor to a doctor friend.”

“True, but he didn’t have to, right? The point I’m getting at is this. He seems to blame you for all of it—including bumping into the one person he had problems with years ago. He owns that. You don’t.”

Danica steadied her gaze. “Never thought of it like that. I’m so used to being the one that messes up, I naturally thought my going to Devin’s house was my fault, too.” She thought for a minute. “I think you’re right. I drank because subconsciously I think I wanted to get back at him.”

“What has he done to help you with your alcohol intolerance?”

Danica thought for a moment. “Other than reminding me not to drink at every social function we go to, not much. It’s all on me. I’m the one who promises not to drink again.”

“That’s it?”

“Oh, and he advised me to join Alcoholics Anonymous.”

“Honey, your alcohol intolerance is a medical issue. You must understand what alcohol does to you, physically and mentally. I’m not sure AA is your answer, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt to get counseling and see a doctor. Get some blood work done.”

“Well…Bryson gave me an ultimatum,” Danica said slowly.

“Or what? Did he come right out and say it was over?”

“He didn’t come right out and say it. Only that this third time might be a deal breaker.”

“Every relationship has problems, but that doesn’t mean it’s over.” The woman sat back in her chair. “If there’s anything I’ve learned in fifty years of marriage, it’s that lack of communication messes things up quicker than anything.” She leaned over and patted Danica’s arm. “If I were you, I wouldn’t get on this flight. I’d go back to have a talk with your guy.”

Danica bent to give the woman a quick hug. “I’ll pray you make it in time. I know he’ll wait for you to get there.” Her heart broke for this person. She couldn’t begin to imagine the agony of trying to reach someone in a situation like this.

An announcement to board came over the loudspeaker, and Danica glanced at her phone. Still no word from Bryson. She texted him.

Is it too late to save our relationship?