I’m not sure what happened. Of all the reactions I thought Juliette may have, the one she gives me isn’t on it. I don’t take anything down. Once she storms into the kitchen to make her coffee, I dress and leave. I take the time to make the holiday special for her and this is the thanks I get? Women like romantic gestures. At least I think they do. Juliette has proven she’s not like most women.

That’s one of the many things I love about her. Now I’m seeing it can also backfire.

I give Juliette a day to calm down. I’m sure since she worked all day yesterday and now today, she’s had plenty of time. Once I finish my last-minute shopping, I’ll call her. Christmas is only five days away, and I haven’t purchased a thing. If I don’t hit the store soon, there won’t be anything left except Tupperware and cans of tuna.

Truth be told, I hate shopping. The only time I enjoy myself is when I’m with Courtney or Abby. Dress shopping with Juliette was fun, too. By myself, though? No, thanks. I’m more of a get in and get out kind of guy when it comes to shopping. I prefer a list. Christmas shopping is the worst, though. I wander from store to store clueless.

This time is different though. A few months ago while with Courtney, she eyed up a necklace. The only problem is I can’t recall which store. There are only about six jewelry stores at the mall. This should be easy. Insert eye roll, right?

The mall is packed. It’s the Wednesday before Christmas. I should expect nothing less. Everyone is rushing around hoping to find the perfect last-minute gifts. I’m not the only one who procrastinated.

I find a parking spot near the end of the lot. It’s freezing outside—around twenty degrees—so I shove my hands in my pockets and jog to the entrance. When I step through the doors, the holiday music blasts in my ears, people race back and forth around me. The smell of pine consumes me, and I pass a warm fireplace. It’s electric but still adds to the holiday spirit. How can someone not love this?

Juliette doesn’t, and I’m determined to change that. Even after she kicked me out.

“I’ll Be Home for Christmas” by Michael Buble plays as I walk into the first store. I swerve out as fast as I went in, needing only a glance at their display to realize this isn’t the store. I zigzag through the crowds into four more stores. Finally, at the last store, I find it.

The necklace is under the glass, a light shining on it. A woman cradles a child, a set of diamonds surrounding them as though they are protecting the mother and child bond. As I grab the attention of the store clerk, a bracelet catches my eye. This piece is different, a charm bracelet filled with racing symbols—checkered flags, a set of keys, a race car, and tires. I think back to when we went go-karting and the story she told me about her dad. Would she like this? Is this a good idea? We’re on shaky ground right now. I don’t want a simple gift to push her over the edge.

No. I’ll wrap this in plain paper. It’s not a Christmas gift. She’ll like the bracelet. I pay for both items—a hefty five hundred and thirty dollar price tag later—and make my way to the food court. I didn’t eat lunch, and it’s nearing six. I need to eat something even if it’s Burger King. It’s not the juicy burger I’d order at Cardinal Cafe, but it’ll do.

I scarf down my meal, toss out my bag, and make my way to the exit. Once home, I’ll call Juliette, and maybe Courtney. I have to decide about Jeff’s offer, and she may have some solid advice.

I pass Santa’s shop, glancing over hoping Juliette is there. I’d much rather talk to her in person than call her. But what if she’s not ready to talk? Yes, the phone will be better.

I tighten my grip on my shopping bags, step out the door, and crash right into the person walking in.

“Juliette!” She rubs her shoulder and reaches down to pick up my bag.

“Landon, sorry. I didn’t see you. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. How about you?”

She smiles. “Perfect.” She reaches the bag out toward me. “Here’s your bag from Lawrence Jewelers.” She words the store name like a question. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea.

“Thanks.” I take it from her. “I thought I should finish up my…” What do I say here?

“It’s okay. You can say Christmas around me.” I’m warmed by her touch when she places her hand on my arm. “I kind of overreacted yesterday. I’m sorry.”

“No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that without your permission.” I know that. With her Christmas story from when her parents divorced, I should have known better.

“You were being spontaneous, sweet, and romantic. I’m an idiot for not appreciating that.”

“You’re not an idiot.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

“I am, and that’s final. Will you forgive me?” Her hand hasn’t left my arm, and my eyes haven’t left hers. She doesn’t have a reason for me to need to forgive her. But we could go back and forth all day.

“Fine. I’ll forgive you.”

I know all is forgiven when her lips touch mine, and I almost drop my bag out of my hand again. This woman can keep her lips plastered on me all day.

“I have to go work for Santa now, but I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

I like the way she makes it sound, and I wish I could steal her away from the jolly old man for the night.

Juliette would be the best Christmas present ever.