Robyn Neeley - Christmas Dinner

“I think we should take a break.”

Just then the door flew open and her family burst out. She glanced around in horror. All of the guests had congregated in the foyer. Many of them holding plastic champagne glasses.

Her father slapped Brad proudly on the back. “Congratulations, son. Welcome to the family.”

Her mom came over and hugged her. “Let me see. Let me see.” She grabbed Amanda’s hand. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Dear, where is your ring?”

Humiliated, Amanda rushed into the house and up the stairs to her room.

It had only gotten worse from there. The news that Brad had bought an engagement ring but then changed his mind and dumped her on Christmas Eve had spread like wildfire. Daily errands were torture; the whispers and glances of pity were just too painful. She needed a fresh start. A month later, she landed the job in Wilmington and didn’t look back.

But while her relationship had ended that night two Christmas Eves ago, a new one began. Quinn started dating Mark, and they eloped in Las Vegas six months later. They were now about to have a baby. The fact that Quinn was now Brad’s sister-in-law was difficult for Amanda to swallow. There was no clean break. Her family tried to be supportive and encouraged her to come home this Christmas. She’d thought she was finally ready to do it. Until now.

She knew it was a mistake earlier this year to accept Brad’s friend request on Facebook. This proved her theory that one should never friend her ex-boyfriend until both were happily married—and even then, one should reconsider.

“Thanks a lot, Alex,” she mumbled, annoyed at her brother for sending the text in the first place. Was he trying to give her a heads-up? He could have called to break the news.

“I’ll have another, please.” Amanda waved her empty wine glass and glanced up at the mounted television. Their explosive local story had made national news. “I really need to get out of this town,” she muttered.

“Excuse me?” The bartender picked up her glass. He was wearing a Santa hat.

“Oh, nothing.” She pointed at his head, changing the subject. “Do they make you wear that?”

“Nah, I just like to get into the Christmas spirit.” He grabbed a bottle of wine, refilling her glass.

“Christmas spirit,” she echoed dryly. She remembered that feeling. It was only two years ago that it was her favorite time of year—two heartbreaking years. “Thanks.”

She took a long gulp and went back to brooding over Brad’s status update. What if she ran into him and his fiancée this weekend? Oh, God. What if she knew her?

“Hey, Santa, think you could bring me a boyfriend to take home this weekend?” she asked sarcastically. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of a man in a suit. She knew its owner immediately.

“Why, Ace, are you taking resumes?”

She spun around and shook her head. Tate had taken the empty seat next to her. Her knees briefly touched his. “What the—where did you come from? Are you following me now?” She drank her wine. “I hate you,” she mumbled.

“I’ll take that as a no .” He pointed to her fresh glass. “I see you’re celebrating. Mind if I join you?”

She pushed off her seat. “Sorry, I was just leaving.” Her legs wobbled, and she felt a little tipsy. When had she become such a lightweight? She sat down to regain her equilibrium. “On second thought, I was here first.”

The bartender came over. “Sir, can I get you anything?”

“A stocking full of coal would be appropriate,” Amanda interjected sweetly. She glared at Tate and raised her finger directly at a group of women on the other side of the bar who were looking their way. She suspected they were gushing over Tate. Most women did.

“See that cougar in the tight sequined silver top and black hooker stilettos? I’m sure she’s one of your fans. I’d bet my paycheck she’d love to have the great Tate Ryan make her night.”

Tate nodded to the woman and pulled Amanda’s arm down. She felt his hand linger.

“I think I’ll pass.” He signaled the bartender and said, “Hey, buddy, could I get a Manhattan?” Then he turned back to Amanda. “Okay, talk to me, Mandy. Why so glum?”

“Don’t call me that. My brother calls me Mandy, and I’m angry with him right now, too.” She stood once again and reached for her purse, determined this time to get away from her co-anchor. “I think I’ll get a table—for one. Merry Christmas, Tate,” she said flatly.

She walked over to the dining area and scanned the room for an empty table. There was one near the window. She plopped down in a chair.

Tate sauntered over.

“Oh, no. No, no.” She raised her hand in protest. “You are not sitting here.”

“Look, you can’t still be angry with me for what happened earlier.”

“Why can’t I?”

“Ace, you know I didn’t sabotage you.” He pulled out a chair and took a seat.

Amanda sighed. “I know.”

“Listen, let’s order some dinner. My treat. I’m starving, and I’ll bet you are, too. We’ll eat, and you can tell me why you’re here drowning your sorrows because this can’t all be my fault. Start from the beginning. I’m a great listener.” He scrolled through his iPhone. “Was it really that bad of a day?” he asked, glancing up.

“You can’t be serious. You did not just ask me that.”

Tate shrugged. “It’s one story. There will be others.”

“Not like this one.”

“You really believe that?”

Amanda shrugged. “I don’t know what I think anymore. Let’s just order. Will you promise to leave me alone after we eat?”

“Deal. Okay, where to begin? All right, why do you hate me? No. Wait.” Tate jerked his hand up in the air in a halt. “Don’t answer that. Let’s start with a softball question. Why do you hate the holidays?” He grabbed the other menu on the table.

“I don’t hate the holidays.”

Tate smirked. “Amanda, you pretty much tell anyone who wishes you a Merry Christmas to go to hell.”

“That’s not true.”

“Not to mention I had to twist your arm for you to do the kick-off story on this year’s toy drive.”

“That hardly makes me a scrooge. I agreed to it, didn’t I?”

He pointed at the window. “Speaking of toys, did you see that huge Santa and sleigh on the flatbed truck in the parking lot? It’s filled with all kinds of fun things. What do you think they’re doing with all those toys?”

Amanda followed his gaze out the window. In the darkness, she could just make out a life-size Santa and sleigh. God, she hated sleighs.

She could also see Tate’s reflection in the glass. The man certainly knew how to wear a suit. Why did he have to be so incredibly good looking? His eyes met hers, causing her cheeks to warm. She glanced away and reached for the breadbasket. “Does it really matter?”

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood.” He flipped his menu to the other side.

She sighed. He was right. It was common knowledge around the station that she wasn’t a big fan of the holidays.

“You’re right. I do get somewhat uptight this time of year,” she admitted. “I was planning on going home tomorrow, but now I don’t know—”

Tate looked up and interrupted. “You’re not going home for Christmas? Why?”

“I don’t know what to do. My mother will kill me if I don’t. My older sister’s about to have a baby.”

“Everything okay?”

“With her, yes. It’s just I received some unsettling news about my ghost from Christmas past.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” She slid back in her chair and took a drink. “It’s just hard to be single during the holidays, I guess.”