Movies about being alone at Christmastime never really made sense to me.

Even in years when I was completely single, even in years when I was completely lonely—devastated, after Joseph had left me—I never really felt the sting of being lonely in the weeks leading up to Christmas.

There was so much around to be cheered up by, after all; there were beautiful trees, garlands, lights. The coldness of winter was still fresh enough that cozying up inside felt wonderful instead of how tedious the cold ended up feeling by February.

And New York City had been a wonder around this time of year. How could anyone have felt lonely?

But in the two weeks after Emmett had said goodbye to me, I felt it in such a strong way that I finally understood all of those sappy movies and books.

Maybe it was because I was in a small town, now. Rose Falls was equally beautiful—maybe even more beautiful than the city was right before Christmas. But that might have actually contributed to my feeling of loneliness and displacement.

Because Rose Falls before Christmas was the perfect time to be falling for someone. And I’d had a glimpse, a barely two-weeks-long hint at that feeling of a crush before it had all been hastily ripped away.

And I couldn’t argue with it. Emmett needed space, I understood it. For two weeks, I went to other coffee shops instead of Brew For You, I stayed away from places I thought he might frequent, and it worked: I didn’t see him for an entire two weeks.

I thought it would get easier, once he was out of sight and out of mind.

But each day that I went without seeing him I only missed him more.

He’d been one of the first people I’d met in Rose Falls, and now I didn’t want to know what it was like without him.

Stella had even found a date. It was Friday night, now—exactly sixteen days since I had seen Emmett, not that I was counting—but Stella had asked if I could take Anna for the night since she had a hot date. Of course I’d said yes. Lately, my days without Anna had been even doubly lonely than my ones with her, so I was actually relieved to have the extra night with her.

Now it was late afternoon, though, and I found myself with nothing to distract me from myself. I couldn’t even turn to work—all of my team had left the office early around four o’clock, preparing for their Christmas holidays. They all had big families and vacations and people to go be with. Even my own mother was off on a cruise in the Bahamas with friends—she’d saved up for months to go, but now I was on my own for the Christmas holiday.

I didn’t typically go out on nights that I had Anna, mostly for convenience’s sake. But as the minutes ticked by, I realized that I was going to need to do something, baby or no baby.

So I made sure she had plenty of milk, made sure she was comfortable, snuggled up, and brought along a big bag of toys, diapers, and snacks in the bottom of her stroller, and I just started walking. It was cold on my block, but the wind had died down; as the sun began to set over the horizon, the cold actually felt refreshing rather than oppressive.

It was a fairly long walk from my house up to the promenade, but I decided to make the trip. I had nothing but time, and I needed to fill it.

The Promenade would normally be fairly busy on a Friday night, but when I arrived, it was like stepping into the most beautiful kind of chaos. It had almost slipped my mind about how people acted when Christmas was so soon—of course people were out shopping, making last-minute preparations, readying themselves for the holiday.

I spent as much time as I could wandering the walkways, peering into storefronts, trying not to hit anyone with Anna’s stroller among the crowds. My eyes scanned past every dark-haired guy, briefly surging with adrenaline a few times when I thought I had spotted Emmett. But of course, none of them had been him.

For all I knew, he had left town. Maybe for Christmas, maybe forever.

At some point, I was just going to have to come to terms with the fact that he was no longer a part of my life, and never would be again.

I was fine before he’d showed up—happy enough on my own, taking care of work, and Anna, and living a life wanting, but not needing anything else.

But something had changed since moving to Rose Falls. I didn’t feel as strong on my own, anymore.

I didn’t know why it was so hard for me to let him go.

* * *

On my way home I stopped into Rose’s Mini-Mart. I hadn’t been there since the time with Emmett, but I needed to get a few things without succumbing to the crazy rush of the grocery stores downtown.

There was only one other customer there, a young woman leaving as I walked in. The college kid, Andy, was working up at the front counter, leaning back with his legs kicked up. He made brief eye contact, and I could have sworn he glared at me, but I just smiled politely and made my way down one of the few aisles.

I decided to try my hand at the Emmett method of making my own pasta sauce. I couldn’t remember exactly what he had done, but how hard could it be? I grabbed an onion, then stopped for a moment in front of the packets of fresh herbs. Had Emmett used basil or parsley? It couldn’t have been sage, could it? After standing there for far too long, I ended up getting all three, figuring that extra herbs couldn’t hurt. I also located the can of whole tomatoes but found pasta nowhere nearby in the aisle.

I came around the front again, nodding at Andy. “Hi.”

He didn’t respond.

“I just wanted to ask where you keep the pasta?” I said.

He got up wordlessly, a scowl on his face as he brushed past me down the aisle on the far right. He gestured down at one of the lower shelves, pushed his hair back off his face.

“Hah,” I said, “Opposite side of the store from the pasta sauce?”

“You want to do it differently, you open your own store,” he said before hurrying back up to the front, presumably to kick his feet back up and keep watching whatever movie he had on the ancient TV.

Clearly he had some kind of chip on his shoulder, but I wasn’t going to bother him about it.

After getting the pasta, some more sweet potato puree for Anna, and a bottle of gin, I headed back up to the front counter, approaching Andy with caution.

When I put my stuff on the counter, he sighed audibly, standing up and starting to punch things in on the register.

“Dude,” I said, pausing. “I’m sorry, but what is the deal? Are you okay? Did something happen?”

He shot his eyes up at me, his stare laser-sharp.

“These aren’t exactly great customer service practices,” I said, incredulous. “I’m just saying. You seem pissed off that I even came into your store.”

“Bingo,” Andy said, looking back down at my items and ringing them up.

I lifted an eyebrow at him. “Wow. Okay then. Might I ask why you’re so upset that I dared come here and give you business?”

“You broke your promise,” he said.

“What?”

“I told you, last time you came in here,” he said. “Don’t hurt Emmett.”

I puffed out a laugh. “I didn’t hurt Emmett.”

He shrugged, unrelenting. “Is that right?” he asked.

“Yeah, it is,” I said. Anna started to whine. I swore she could already sense confrontation, even at her young age, and it broke my heart that I would be exposing her to even the slightest bit of it. I reached into her toy bag, pulling out her favorite monkey, and leaned over, giving it to her in her stroller. She took it, seeming irritated, but not yet on the verge of total meltdown.

“Listen,” I said to Andy, my voice softer. “I don’t know what Emmett told you, but things are just… complicated. You’re still young, but one day you’ll realize that sometimes things don’t work out between people, for complicated reasons.”

He rolled his eyes. “You can cut the condescending bullshit. I’m young, whatever, but that doesn’t mean I’m an idiot. You hurt Emmett, that’s as simple as it gets.”

I felt a streak of anger roll through me. “Listen, you don’t know what you’re talking about, Andy.”

“Don’t I?”

“Emmett is the one who wanted to stop seeing me. He is almost definitely happier without me in his life.”

“Yeah?” Andy said, raising his voice. He looked down at Anna, sensing that she was about to be upset, and thank God he had the decency to quiet his voice to a hushed tone. “If he’s so happy, then why the fuck has he been in here every other night getting more alcohol, more junk food, and like fifty boxes of Junior Mints? Like, literally, dude, I’ve had to order two more cases of the damn candies the past two weeks because he is clearing us out. I’ve seen him in the same clothes, like, three times. It’s not healthy, for fuck’s sake.”

Shit. Was that true? I had known Emmett seemed disappointed when he’d said goodbye to me, but I would have assumed that by now, I’d be old history to him. I pictured him going back to his usual ways, hooking up with all kinds of people, forgetting about me as soon as he could.

His apparent descent into disheveled gluttony might not have been because of me, though. He could be upset about anything.

“I’m sorry to hear that he isn’t doing well,” I said, “but that doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with me.”

Andy let out a bitter laugh. “You know better than that,” he said.

“He was upset about career stuff the last time I saw him,” I said, trying to stay as vague as possible. I started loading the rest of my groceries onto the counter. “It’s probably just about that.”

He shook his head. “Well, not even his stupid new graphic design project is keeping him happy, so I’m thinking you’re probably wrong about that.”

I paused, meeting his eyes. “What project?”

Andy stared at me blankly, the you’re-a-fucking-idiot look back in his eyes. “I don’t know, Ryan, why don’t you go ask him yourself and find out.”

He rang up the rest of my groceries, bagged everything up, tossing it around like he didn’t care if any of it broke. When he was finished, he reached behind the counter, pulling out a bag of oranges and stuffing it into one of my grocery bags.

“And here, while you’re at it, bring these tangerines to him, too. On the house. I haven’t seen him get a single fruit or vegetable in the last two weeks. I wouldn’t be surprised if he already has scurvy.”

“Why don’t you worry about your own love life instead of mine?” I said. “Don’t you have some college fling you should be focusing on?”

Andy scowled, but a distinct pink blush rose to his cheeks.

“Aww, love is in the air, isn’t it? Do you have a crush on someone, Andy?”

He rolled his eyes. “Shut up. Don’t worry about what I have going on. This is about you. And how you’re going over to Emmett’s house.”

I shook my head, reaching in to pull the tangerines back out of the bag. “I appreciate the gesture, Andy, but I’m not going to his house.”

Andy’s hand came down on mine, hard, preventing me from removing the tangerines. He had a vice grip on him—he was thin, pale, and wispy looking, but the kid had a fierce strength to him when he was pissed off.

“Take the fucking tangerines to him,” he said.

I grimaced. “Stop swearing around my baby,” I said. I knew she couldn’t understand it, but I couldn’t help preparing for the inevitable day when she would.

For the first time, Andy relented, his face softening as he let go of my hand. “Sorry,” he said. “When my grandma’s not around to enforce the swear jar, I go a little nuts with it.” He gestured toward a huge plastic jar on the back table behind the counter which was already half-full of coins. “She says even sailors have more decorum than I do.”

I couldn’t help but crack a smile, tension draining from my body.

“Go to Emmett’s house,” Andy said, more quietly this time. “Somebody needs to check on him, and it isn’t going to be me. I don’t need a weepy thirty-two-year-old in my life, but I have a feeling you do.”

I sighed, wondering how honest to be with Andy. “I’m not going there,” I finally said. “I don’t even know what the hell he’s doing. For… for all I know he could be… with someone. I can’t drop in unannounced.”

Andy laughed, genuinely this time, like I’d said something hilarious. “Doing something?” he said, his voice rising an octave. “Trust me, Ry Guy, he’s not doing anything. He was in here an hour ago, buying our biggest bag of sugar. I guarantee you he’s eating it raw, by the ladleful, in front of the TV by now.”

“Don’t call me Ry Guy,” I said. I picked up my grocery bags and loaded them into the bottom compartment of Anna’s stroller. “And thank you, Andy.”

“Don’t thank me, Ry Guy,” he said as he held open the front door for me, allowing me to go through with the stroller. “Just go talk to your boyfriend.”

I shook my head as I stepped out into the cold night air and the door shut behind me. I started walking, worrying my bottom lip, thinking about everything that Andy had told me. Him calling Emmett my “boyfriend” was just the cherry on top. I hated myself for it, but hearing him referred to that way sent a thrill through me—though just as soon, I willed those good feelings away.

I didn’t deserve to feel happy about something that was literally never going to happen. Andy was just fanciful, romantic, and young.

The kid was nuts, obviously, but he certainly didn’t seem like the lying type. Was Emmett really doing a new graphic design project? Was his drinking and junk food eating really because of me?

After a few more blocks, I came up on the street that would lead to Emmett’s house. I paused for a moment, waiting at the corner, looking down at the huge trees that lined the sidewalks.

I could have done it. I could have turned the corner, made my way over, and done what Andy had said.

I kept walking straight, forgetting the idea of going down Emmett’s street. Andy was only twenty years old, and he really didn’t understand. Emmett had said he didn’t want to see me, and I had to respect that. I had to let him be a thing of the past.

But as I was walking, something floated into my mind, something that I’d completely forgotten up until this minute, but that stopped me in my tracks completely.

“I’m not the kind of person anyone would fight for.”

It was a comment Emmett had made, offhand, pretending to be half-joking. But I had seen the look in his eyes when he said it.

Emmett didn’t believe that he was the kind of person that someone would fight for.

My heart lurched, and I stopped walking, the white clouds of my breath hard and fast in front of my face.

Could I fight for Emmett? Would he even want me to?

It seemed absurd—we’d never even had a relationship, hadn’t even known each other that long, and typically I would say that it was completely silly to even entertain the idea of fighting for something so ephemeral.

But I had felt a connection to Emmett that I couldn’t explain, and I knew he had felt it too. It didn’t make sense, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t real.

I turned Anna’s stroller around and started back up the street toward his.

I would do it. I would deliver the damn tangerines. If I tried and failed, if Emmett slammed the door in my face, I would never bother him again. But I had to at least show him that he was worth fighting for, that I would fight to make sure he was happy, with or without me.