ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS

CHAPTER 3: The Texts

Marilyn's apartment was everything she'd ever wanted, a beautifully renovated one-bedroom in the West Village with exposed brick walls, hardwood floors, and a view of the city that made her feel like she was on top of the world.

Tonight, it felt empty.

She kicked off her heels and collapsed onto her couch, still thinking about Ronnie. About his easy smile and his calloused hands and the way he'd looked at her like she was a puzzle he wanted to solve.

Stop it, she told herself. He's not your type. He's not what you're looking for.

But what was she looking for?

Her phone buzzed. A text from Jeremy.

Jeremy: Marilyn, I'm so sorry I couldn't make it today. Something came up at work, a case that needed immediate attention. Can we reschedule? I promise I'll make it up to you.

She stared at the message for a long moment. Something came up. A case. It was a reasonable excuse, the kind of thing that happened when you dated a lawyer. But it felt hollow, somehow. Rehearsed.

She didn't respond.

Instead, she made herself a cup of tea, changed into her most comfortable pajamas, and settled onto the couch with a book. She'd been trying to finish it for three weeks, but her mind kept wandering. To work. To her family. To the date that never happened.

To Ronnie.

Her phone buzzed again.

Unknown: So I've been thinking.

She smiled despite herself.

Marilyn: That's dangerous.

Unknown: I know. But I couldn't help it. I was thinking about how you almost killed me.

Marilyn: I did not almost kill you.

Unknown: You came close. I'm still traumatized.

Marilyn: You seem to be handling it well.

Unknown: It's a brave face. Deep down, I'm shattered.

Marilyn: Dramatic much?

Unknown: I prefer 'theatrically inclined.'

She laughed out loud, the sound startling in the quiet apartment.

Marilyn: You're ridiculous.

Unknown: You're still texting me.

Marilyn: Against my better judgment.

Unknown: I'll take it.

She saved his number in her phone. Ronnie, she typed. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she added a motorcycle emoji.

They texted for hours. About everything. About nothing. About the time Ronnie had accidentally set his boss's car on fire ("It was a small fire. Barely a fire at all.") and the time Marilyn had accidentally locked herself out of a client's apartment during a showing ("I had to climb through a window. In a pencil skirt. It was not graceful.").

Ronnie: I would pay good money to see that.

Marilyn: You'll never see it. That's a story that dies with me.

Ronnie: Everything dies eventually. Even stories.

Marilyn: That's morbid.

Ronnie: That's life.

She paused, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. There was something about Ronnie, something that made her want to be honest with him. More honest than she was with most people.

Marilyn: Can I ask you something?

Ronnie: You just did.

Marilyn: Something else.

Ronnie: Shoot.

Marilyn: Why did you ask for my number?

There was a long pause. Long enough that Marilyn started to regret the question. Long enough that she started to wonder if she'd misread the situation entirely.

Then:

Ronnie: Because you're interesting.

Marilyn: That's it?

Ronnie: That's it.

Marilyn: Most men would say something about my looks.

Ronnie: Most men are idiots.

She smiled.

Marilyn: You're not like most men.

Ronnie: I'll take that as a compliment.

Marilyn: You should.

Ronnie: So what's your deal, crazy lady? Why are you single?

Marilyn: Who says I'm single?

Ronnie: The fact that you were waiting for a date alone in a coffee shop.

Marilyn: Touché.

Ronnie: So?

Marilyn: Maybe I'm just picky.

Ronnie: Nothing wrong with that.

Marilyn: What about you? Why are you single?

Ronnie: I'm not. I'm secretly married with six kids.

Marilyn: Really?

Ronnie: No. But I like that you believed me for a second.

Marilyn: I didn't.

Ronnie: You hesitated.

Marilyn: I did not.

Ronnie: You definitely did.

Marilyn: You're insufferable.

Ronnie: And yet here you are. Still texting me.

Marilyn: I'm starting to question my life choices.

Ronnie: That's the spirit.

They texted until midnight, when Marilyn's eyes started to droop and her phone kept slipping from her fingers.

Marilyn: I need to sleep.

Ronnie: Sweet dreams, crazy lady.

Marilyn: Goodnight, Ronnie.

She plugged her phone in and lay back against her pillows, her mind still buzzing with the conversation. She thought about Jeremy, who hadn't bothered to show up. She thought about Ronnie, who had stayed.

She thought about the fact that she'd smiled more in the past three hours than she had in the past three months.

And as she drifted off to sleep, she realized that something had shifted. Something had changed.

She just didn't know what it was yet.