Cars lined the highway. They had all slowed to a halt in the icy conditions. I stared anxiously at the clock. I couldn’t afford to be late. My boss would be furious, and I couldn’t risk pissing him off even more. I needed this paycheck.

As my car trudged along on the slow-moving highway, I heard an anxiety-inducing rattle shake the dashboard. The heater had stopped working months ago, but I didn’t have enough money to get it fixed. I didn’t even want to think what the rattling was or how much that would cost. My breath came out in white puffs as I leaned forward over my wheel urging the cars ahead of me to move. I looked at the clock again.

My car squealed into the parking lot, my tires losing traction for a heart-racing moment before they gripped the asphalt again. I pulled into a free spot in front of the enormous tan colored office building with only three minutes to spare. Large, floor to ceiling windows dominated the east side of the building. The low pink-hued morning sun reflected off the shiny glazed paneling. Quickly, I closed my creaky car door and crossed my arms tightly across my chest. The wind was biting, and I felt my eyes sting as I watched a flurry of snow dance around the lot and hurried toward the building with its sidewalk still not shoveled from the weekend snow. Above the grand entrance were the overlapping letters T and C in large gold lettering. I opened the heavy door and shuffled inside, stomping off the snow that had collected on the base of my boots.

When the elevator arrived on the 5th floor, I was momentarily stunned by the intense color change. All morning, my eyes had become accustomed to the gray-scale color scheme of the world. The sky was clouded and dark, the building and parking lot muted. It hadn’t even been a week since Thanksgiving, but already the lobby of the floor looked like Santa’s workshop. Wreaths adorned every wall. Lights of every color were strung up on the sterile office walls. Stockings hung down from the front desk in vivid greens and reds and tinsel wrapped the legs of the chairs in reception.

On Monday, “Winter Wonderland” had been playing softly from the speakers when I first walked in. I had almost bolted from the door, it had been Dad’s favorite song, and now I was starting to wish I had. I wasn’t sure if I could get myself into the festive spirit. I was convinced I was turning into the office Grinch.

On my first day, when I walked to the front desk, a smiling woman with pretty pink lips and a snowflake-patterned sweater raised her eyes to mine expectantly.

“Hi, my name’s Shae Reynolds. I’m from the temp agency. Sorry, I’m late.”

“Oh perfect! I’m Tiff!” she said enthusiastically. I could instantly tell we would get along. “I’m so glad Mr. Carver decided to get some extra help. He runs himself into the ground this time of year.” A memory stirred at the name Carver, but I couldn’t think why and it was momentarily forgotten while Tiff bustled around to welcome and get me settled.

It was apparent that the law firm did very well for itself. The main offices were decorated with floor to ceiling panels of frosted glass. Lovely, plush leather armchairs surrounded the dark wooden tables in the conference rooms. The rest of the office comprised of standard cubicles all equipped with sleek Apple computers and shiny glass tables. Most of which were occupied; men in expensive suits, some with their leather shoes propped up on their desks and their shirt sleeves rolled up to their elbows.

Thankfully, the over-the-top holiday décor didn’t extend past the front desk, and the color scheme returned to gray, white, and black. I breathed a small sigh of relief.

As Tiff led me past large offices and rows of cubicles, she briefly introduced me to a few of the other employees and pointed out the location of the staffroom, bathroom, and copy room. Her heels were so high, and she walked quickly, I was impressed she didn’t stumble on the thick carpeting.

“Oh! What did you think of the decorations?”

“Hmm?” I said, still trying to take everything in.

“I just love Christmas! Don’t you, Shae?”

I nodded absently. I was still sizing the place up and trying to think of where I’d heard the name Carver. College maybe? Some classmate? Thinking back perhaps it was my brain trying to protect me.

So far, I’d been met with smiles. Tiff, apart from her love for Christmas, seemed friendly and sociable. How was she supposed to know that I hated this particular season now?

I’d been sad to leave my low-paying job at the bookshop, but this place felt adult and important. I was starting to think about the possibility of getting Liv a nice Christmas present and felt hope that the luxuriousness of the company promised a certain amount of financial security to what had become a very tight year.

Finally, we reached an office that was bigger than the rest. The door had a placard that read “Thomas Carver” in portentous silver lettering.

In an instant, I remembered why I knew the name Carver.

Before I had time to panic, Tiff wrinkled her nose at me the way a mother does before giving her child a treat and pushed on the large glass door. Inside, with the back of his office chair facing the door, all I could see was the back of a man’s head with dark brown hair that was longer and slightly wavy at the top. It’s probably just a coincidence, I told myself. It’s a very common name. Meanwhile, my heart was already racing, bracing myself for when he would turn around.

“Mr. Carver?” said Tiff sweetly.

The chair swiveled and my breath caught in my throat.

Staring at me from above the collar of his stiff white shirt, were the perfect gray eyes of Tommy Carver: the boy from two tables down who’d stolen my teenage heart.