A Mate For Christmas

"Merry Christmas, my love. I cannot wait to see you." Evie read her own text message again as she stood outside Café de Flore in Paris. Her breath came out in white clouds. Snowflakes landed on her phone screen, melting instantly. All around her, couples walked hand in hand, laughing and kissing under the twinkling Christmas lights that adorned every building. She had sent that message three hours ago. Dave still had not replied. Evie pulled her thin coat tighter. She should have bought a warmer one, but she had spent all her savings on this surprise trip. Five months of eating instant noodles. Five months of working double shifts at the diner. All so she could fly to Paris and surprise Dave for Christmas. Because he had sounded so sad on their last phone call. So lonely. He was in Paris for a six month work assignment, and he had told her how much he missed her. How he wished she could be there with him. So Evie had done something crazy. Something spontaneous. Something the old Evie would never have done. She had bought a plane ticket. Through the frosted window of the café, Evie could see the warm golden glow inside. Christmas garlands hung from the ceiling. A small tree sparkled in the corner, covered in red and gold ornaments. People sat at small tables, drinking hot chocolate and wine, their faces flushed with happiness. Evie pushed open the door. Bells jingled above her head. The warm air hit her face, along with the smell of cinnamon and roasted chestnuts. A Christmas song played softly from speakers, something French that she did not understand but sounded beautiful anyway. She scanned the crowded café, looking for Dave's familiar face. Her heart was beating so fast. Would he be surprised? Would he be happy? Then she saw him. Dave sat at a corner table, partially hidden behind a large Christmas tree. His back was to her, but she would recognize his brown hair anywhere. That blue sweater she had bought him last Christmas. Evie smiled and started walking toward him, pulling her small suitcase behind her. She was already imagining his face when he saw her. Already planning what she would say. Then Dave leaned back in his chair, and Evie saw that he was not alone. A woman sat across from him. She had long blonde hair and perfect red lips. Her clothes looked expensive. Designer. Everything Evie could never afford. The woman was laughing at something Dave had said. She reached across the table and put her hand on his. Evie stopped walking. Her suitcase bumped into a chair behind her. An old man said something in French, probably telling her to be careful. Evie barely heard him. She was watching Dave lift the woman's hand to his lips and kiss it. It was such a small gesture. Such a simple thing. But Evie felt like she had been punched in the stomach. All the air left her lungs. The woman stood up. She walked around the table. And then, right there in the middle of the café, with Christmas music playing and snow falling outside, she sat on Dave's lap. He pulled her close. His hands went around her waist, pulling her against him in a way that was not friendly. Not innocent. The woman whispered something in his ear. Dave threw back his head and laughed. Then he kissed her. Not a friendly peck. A real kiss. Deep and passionate and intimate. Evie's phone slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. Several people turned to look at her. The woman at the counter asked if she was okay. Evie could not answer. Could not move. Could not breathe. She just stood there, watching the man she loved kiss another woman under the mistletoe someone had hung above their table. The kiss went on forever. Or maybe it was only seconds. Evie could not tell. Time had stopped making sense. When they finally broke apart, the blonde woman giggled. She said something that made Dave smile. That same smile he used to give Evie. That smile she thought was special. Just for her. But it was not special at all. It was just a smile. One he gave to any pretty girl who sat in his lap. Evie's throat burned. Her eyes stung. But she refused to cry. Not here. Not in front of all these happy people celebrating Christmas with the people they loved. She bent down and picked up her phone with shaking hands. The screen had cracked. Of course it had. That felt about right. She should leave. Should walk out before Dave saw her. Before this got any worse. But she could not move. Some part of her needed to see this. Needed to know for sure that it was real. Dave's phone buzzed on the table. He picked it up, still holding the blonde woman with his other arm. He looked at the screen and frowned. Evie knew what he was seeing. Her text from three hours ago. Merry Christmas, my love. I cannot wait to see you. Dave's eyes flickered up. He scanned the café like he was looking for someone. His eyes found Evie. For one second, everything froze. His face went pale. His mouth opened. The blonde woman noticed him staring and turned to see what he was looking at. Evie stood there in her cheap coat, with her cracked phone and her little suitcase, and watched three years of her life crumble to nothing. Dave stood up so fast the blonde woman almost fell off his lap. He said something to her quickly, his eyes never leaving Evie's face. Evie finally found her voice. "I should have called first." Her voice came out steady. Calm. She was proud of that. Even though inside, everything was screaming. Dave started walking toward her. The blonde woman grabbed his arm, confused. He shook her off. "Evie," Dave said. He reached for her. "Evie, wait. This is not what it looks like." Evie laughed. It sounded wrong. Broken. "Really? Because it looks like you are spending Christmas with your girlfriend. And I am not your girlfriend anymore, am I Dave?" People were staring now. The woman at the counter looked concerned. An older couple at the next table whispered to each other. "Can we talk outside?" Dave asked. His face was red. Embarrassed. Not sorry. Just embarrassed that he got caught. "There is nothing to talk about," Evie said. She gripped the handle of her suitcase so tight her knuckles went white. "I just flew eight hours to surprise you. I spent every penny I had. I thought you missed me. I thought you loved me." "I do love you," Dave said, but his eyes flickered back to the blonde woman. "It is complicated." "It seems pretty simple to me," Evie said. Her voice was getting louder. She could not stop it. Three years of being the perfect girlfriend, the understanding girlfriend, the girlfriend who never complained, was exploding out of her. "You are a liar. And a cheat. And I am an i***t for believing anything you ever said." "You are making a scene," Dave hissed. He grabbed her arm. Not gently. His fingers dug into her skin. "Let us go outside and talk like adults." "Let go of me," Evie said. "Not until you calm down." Dave pulled her toward the door. Evie stumbled, her suitcase falling over. "You are being dramatic. So I kissed someone. We have been apart for six months. What did you expect?" "I expected you to love me!" Evie's voice broke. Finally, the tears came. Hot and angry and humiliating. "I expected you to be faithful!" "You expected too much," Dave said coldly. They were outside now, in the snow. Away from the warm café and the Christmas lights. His true face was showing now. Mean. Selfish. How had she never seen it before? "You always expect too much, Evie. You are so needy. So clingy. Honestly, Isabelle is a relief. She does not need constant attention and validation." Each word was like a knife. Evie felt them cutting into her, destroying every good memory she had of their relationship. "Three years," Evie whispered. "I gave you three years." "And I am grateful," Dave said, but he did not sound grateful. He sounded annoyed. Like she was an inconvenience. "But come on, Evie. Did you really think this was forever? Look at you. Look at me. We were never going to work long term." "What does that mean?" "It means you are a waitress from nowhere, and I am going places. My family has connections. I am going to be somebody. And you..." He looked her up and down with disgust. "You are just going to be ordinary." Evie slapped him. She did not plan it. Her hand just moved on its own. The c***k of skin on skin was loud in the quiet street. Dave touched his face, shocked. Then his expression twisted into rage. "You little—" He raised his hand. Evie flinched, closing her eyes. Waiting for the blow. It never came. Evie opened her eyes. A man stood between her and Dave. A very tall man with black hair and the strangest golden eyes Evie had ever seen. The man had caught Dave's wrist in mid air. He held it easily, like Dave weighed nothing. "I do not think you want to do that," the stranger said. His voice was calm. But there was something underneath it. Something dangerous. Dave tried to pull his arm free. He could not. The stranger's grip was iron. "This is none of your business," Dave said. "Let go of me." "I am making it my business," the stranger said. His golden eyes flickered to Evie. Just for a second. But in that second, Evie felt something shift in the air. Something electric. Something impossible to name. The stranger looked back at Dave. "Apologize to her. Now." "I do not have to—" The stranger squeezed. Dave cried out in pain and fell to his knees in the snow. "I am sorry!" he gasped. "I am sorry, Evie! Please!" The stranger let go. Dave scrambled backward, clutching his wrist. He looked terrified. "Leave," the stranger said quietly. "And if I ever see you near her again, I will do much worse than hurt your wrist." Dave ran. Actually ran, slipping in the snow, back toward the café. Back to Isabelle. Evie stood frozen. She was shaking. From cold or shock or heartbreak, she could not tell. The stranger turned to face her fully. He was beautiful. That was the first thought that cut through her fog of pain. Tall and broad shouldered, with a face that looked carved from stone. But his eyes were what held her. Those golden eyes that seemed to glow in the streetlight. "Are you alright?" he asked gently. Evie opened her mouth. Nothing came out. Then, all at once, everything hit her. The betrayal. The cruelty. The fact that she was alone in Paris on Christmas Eve with nowhere to go and no money to get home. She burst into tears. Not pretty crying. Ugly, gasping sobs that shook her whole body. The stranger hesitated. Then, slowly, he stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. Evie should have pulled away. Should have been scared of this strange man. But she was so tired. So broken. And his arms were warm and strong and safe. "Shh," the stranger murmured. "You are safe now. I promise. You are safe." Evie cried into his chest while snow fell around them and somewhere in the distance, church bells rang out for Christmas.