"Belle Jordan?" A young man's voice echoed with a crack in it.

Belle stood from her desk by the window, which overlooked the Capitol Building as the door opened. Perhaps it was orders from her old military base or she was still in this habit, but she straightened her spine. "Yeah, who's this?"

Again a boy's voice squeaked. "I'm from FTL. I have a letter to deliver."

Civilians didn't stand at attention for delivery people. She forced herself to sit and fixed her long, brown braid behind her head. "Come in."

A boy, no more than eighteen years old in a bright yellow shirt appeared. The tension in her spine dissipated as the messenger held out a package and an electronic box. "I need you to sign here."

She scribbled her name and then stared at the letter. It was white, and the calligraphy was tasteful. The date December 23rd echoed in her brain. Someone knew she worked late. It might be some new lobbyist business party that doubled as training for the just-out-of-the-military group she was hired with. It was not like she had anymore friends who would send her wedding new invitations. She shook the letter. It certainly looked like an invitation.

She glanced at her desk and pushed the contract with the US Marines and Century Arms to the side as she opened the white linen envelope. A moment later, white confetti in the shape of butterflies spilled onto her mahogany desk. She unfolded the crisp linen invitation from wrapping paper and read, Victoria Morgan and Colt Collins cordially invite you to their Christmas Eve wedding in Miami.

Again. This was the second invitation, not that she had responded to the first. Belle covered her lips and sat. She'd never go to this. Her heart beat a mile a minute. Her ex-fiancé and the mother of his child were not exactly her favorite people.

She dropped the invitation but then noticed a second sheet of paper in the envelope. She tucked the paper in to hide it and picked up the contract. She needed to finish and get her work in the mail and over to the Pentagon. She picked up her pen, signed the last of the pages and, and dropped the papers in the 'to be copied' stack for her secretary in the morning.

She had earned another bonus. The night sky still had the whiteness of this morning's snow flurry. The postcards of Washington, DC at Christmas could be snapped from her office, not that she'd ever care.

It was time to go home. She sighed. No one else was still here on the floor. As she stood, she peeked at the second piece of paper that had come with the invitation. She blinked. It was Colt's handwriting.

Her heart had a pang. Her father had loved the idea of her and Colt. So had her stepmother. They had said they finally had a daughter because she intended to get married and wear a white dress.

Clothes did not make her feminine.

She closed her eyes and hoped the zap in her heartbeat stopped. They had never been proud of her, ever, and they certainly weren't now. Her father had said he couldn't wait to dance with his daughter at her wedding. A piece of her hair fell in front of her eyes. As she gazed at the letter, she tucked the wayward strand behind her ear.

Belle,

Please come to the wedding. We were always friends first. You saved my life in the desert and kept me alive. Victoria wants you here too. We both want you to be happy. We included an airplane ticket. Please come.

Colt

She rubbed her throat and then dropped the letter. There was no way she'd go. This was insane. Ex fiancées did not go to the new fiancée's wedding. Victoria and she hardly even knew each other. All she knew about Colt's new bride was that Colt had thought the other woman dead the entire time he had dated her.

She fumbled through her desk and found her pocketbook. At the door, she wrapped herself in her scarf, warm woolen jacket, and thick hat. Four years of dating one guy had left her utterly alone this winter.

She closed her office door, strode through the empty office with gray cubicles, and locked the department front door. She'd return in eight short hours. Christmas Eve was for other people who cared.

On the empty street, the brightest light on the horizon was still the Capitol Building. She wrapped her scarf tighter and quickened her steps to get to her apartment faster. The cold air numbed her nose, but she trekked forward. She'd be home soon.

People's cheers from the local bars she passed were loud with ‘Merry Christmas.' She hugged her waist and rushed. Then her new stepmother's smiling face flashed on her caller ID.

She answered, "Hello?"

"Darling, your father and I are heading out for the holidays on that Mediterranean cruise we told you about earlier this year. He's very sorry to miss you for the holidays again."

"I remember." Of course. Her stepmother had never asked, 'Why don't you drop everything and join us when we book the cruise?' Not that she'd go. She straightened her shoulders. "Have fun with my dad."

Sophie's perky voice echoed through the phone. "What will you do this holiday?"

Find a way to not think about Colt anymore. She would never say that, and instead she rolled her eyes. She was the one who'd paid her father's debts so her stepmother could spend his retirement earnings. "Work. It's what I enjoy."

Her stepmother's voice, which had once soothed her said, "Baby, there is more to life than work. We hoped one day you'd learn to relax and enjoy the small moments."

Clearly they lived on another planet. Belle pressed her lips together. "It's okay, Sophie. Have fun with Dad."

Sophie mumbled something else, but Belle's phone began to ding with multiple text messages. She hung up on her stepmother and read her texts.

‘Saw you pass. Come into Andrew's Pub.'

‘Belle, we want to see you.'

None of the former crew of her favorite Marines were in the service anymore. They all planned to fly out tomorrow, for Colt's wedding.

She gazed up at her dark window. All that waited for her at home was the internet and some movie she picked out.

She pursed her lips. Perhaps one drink with her old crew wouldn't be the end of the world. She'd tell everyone to have a good time.

She clutched her phone in her hand and decided to pop in without a message.

---

A rock version of "Silent Night" that someone must have attempted during karaoke clung in the air. Someone's feet stomped from the stage as Belle walked past. Then she saw Emily Fletcher, her perky best friend, as she sat with three other former Marines. All four of them had flights in the morning to Miami. All of them were off to wish Colt well.

"Someone order me a Guinness."

Em sucked in her breath. "Belle, we thought you were avoiding us."

Next time she'd start slower, and she'd never again date a guy she needed to fix. She never should have asked Colt out years ago.

She sat on the bar stool and faked a smile. "How could I ignore the texts that offered to buy me a free beer?"

The intake of breath rang in her ears. Then Em said, "Come with us to Miami."

No. Belle lifted her head and waved at the bartender. "I don't do Christmas."

She ordered the drink and turned to her friends. "I'll be fine here."

"You'll be alone."

Another voice piped in from behind Emily's. "Belle, you were both our friends."

James Harrington handed the bartender money as he slipped the beer in front of Belle.

She licked her lips. "We're both still your friends. It's just that he's marrying someone else."

"Belle, we all knew he loved and lost his Victoria," James said. "He called out her name countless times in the sandbox."

Belle's entire body froze. It was true. At night, when Colt slept, he had called out for Victoria. He had never said her name. She had lived with that for years, and had only thought she helped his broken heart.

Perhaps it was time to be an adult. If she wanted to be sure that she could live without Colt, then she should see this through to the end. A plan came to her. The plane ticket for the wedding was in her pocketbook. Miami was warm, sunny, and perhaps with friends nearby, she could be a better person. She chugged her beer.

"You, Em, and the others will have my back if I go with you?"

"Of course." James patted her on the back and took the seat next to her.

She lifted her glass as she sucked in her breath. "Even if I break down into tears and need someone to get me a tissue?"

"You never cry, Belle. You're still a Marine and wouldn't break down like that."

Belle stopped and stared at herself in the mirror behind the bar. Her frizzy brown hair and plain Jane face would make someone like Colt choose someone else. Perhaps her stepmother was right that she was too masculine.

She hid her chin, which trembled with another gulp. She'd never wanted to be a pretty face with nothing in between her ears. She swallowed. "I will try not to cry. I don't hate him, and I don't want anyone who doesn't love me back. I should go to this wedding and make my peace."

"This is last minute. Are you sure?"

She took a deep breath and gulped her beer. "Maybe it will be healthy for me. Cleansing almost, so I can let go."

Now her glass was empty. If she intended to catch the eight in the morning flight, she needed to pack her bags.

Em placed her hand on Belle's shoulder as she stood from her barstool. "What aren't you telling me, Belle?"

"I'm going home to pack. My flight is early."

"You had already had a ticket."

"Yeah. I'll see everyone later."

She hugged all her friends and then rushed from the building. A few minutes later, she climbed the steps to her apartment and realized she still didn't have any pictures on the wall.

Anyone who came here would assume she was a drifter or newly out of the Marines. In reality, she just hadn't had the time or motivation to shop.

Home and decorating could wait. She went to her closet and tugged out her folded duffel. Then she froze and stared through the park and back toward the Capitol Building. It illuminated her bedroom, and she didn't need to turn on the lights.

Change needed to happen. She hugged her stomach and shook on her feet. "I loved Colt. He loved Victoria. Please make the pain stop, okay? I don't want to become numb and I feel sad. Why wasn’t I enough? What did I do to make you hate me this much? I always tried to do the right thing, so why punish me?"

Praying wasn’t her thing. Action was and her father always said ‘God helps those who help themselves.’ If she let Colt go, then she’d be open to whatever or whoever was next. Or she’d get a cat from the shelter. She blinked, wiped her eyes, and picked up her bag.

A second later, she grabbed her hairbrush and accessories. Then she went to her nightstand and took her mother's picture, which had been thrown down but was otherwise intact. Belle had never gone anywhere without her mother and wouldn't start now. Finally she went to the closet and picked up her small supply of civilian summer outfits.

Now she was packed. She rifled through the pocketbook but couldn't find that invitation. Somewhere she must have lost it. She shrugged. At least she had the plane ticket. Done, she stormed to the door.

"God, you and I both know that I will never be the bride or girlish, but please help me stay strong. I have to be happy for everyone else."

Dawn peeked through the air. She hadn't slept at all. Perhaps on the plane she'd close her eyes and not have a rush of heart palpitations every few minutes.

She unlocked the front door, and her nerves stood on edge. Nothing stirred outside. She rubbed her temples and told herself she'd be fine.

She'd never be sweet or the kind or the girl that a guy threw everything away for. She straightened her spine. She took care of herself. She was always fine with anything that was thrown in her way. She used a phone app and called a car to pick her up.

As she turned off the lights, she continued her conversation with God. "I'm too closed off to ever truly fall in love. We both know that."

She locked the door behind her and ran down the stairs as fast as she could. Miami was warm, and the wedding invitation for tomorrow meant she'd be too busy to worry about herself or feel sorry that she was no longer the bride. She pocketed her phone. Everything was perfect.