The Man I Met On Christmas

Chapter 2

Serene Dawson's Point Of View.

The smell of slightly burnt garlic butter filled my tiny kitchen as I poked the chicken with the wooden spatula.

I had the radio on low, an old Christmas station that kept playing “Last Christmas” on repeat, and I was humming along badly while I stirred the spaghetti with one hand and reached for the salt with the other.

The kitchen was warm, lit by soft yellow light from the bulb I had been meaning to replace for months. It flickered other minute, one could feel that it was warning me about it's untimely death plan.

Well, each and every thing in this apartment was like that. Old, tired, on the edge of giving up, kinda like me. Though tonight I was making dinner out of actual food, instead of instant ramen, so that felt like winning.

I wore an old oversized Northwestern hoodie, leggings with a hole in the left knee and fuzzy socks with little reindeer on them. My blonde hair was twisted up in a messy knot held together by a pencil.

I was exhausted, after a long day of sending out seventy three job applications and getting maybe four replies that were not automated. Lucky me.

Before I could sink too deep into that thought, the front door burst open without a knock.

“Babe! I come bearing wine and emotional support!” Monica shouted, while kicking the door shut behind her with one boot. She had a bottle of two buck Chuck in one hand and a bag of garlic bread in the other.

“You are late, food is almost ready.” I said as I grinned over my shoulder.

“I am exactly on time for the drama portion of the evening,” She said, while dropping her faux fur coat on the couch and kicking off her boots. She padded into the kitchen in mismatched socks, one had pineapples, and the other had avocados and hip bumped me out of the way so she could steal a spoonful of my special sauce.

“Woman, marry me. Forget men. This sauce is my soulmate.” She mumbled, before moaning with her eyes closed.

I laughed, swatting her with the wooden spoon and said, “Shut up.”

“That’s rude. I am offended. My boyfriend told me I should be respected and handled gently.” She huffed, placing her hands on her hips and turning her head to the side with a dramatic glare.

"Just a second earlier, you were asking me to marry you." I said slowly, dragging out every word as I walked to the counter. “..and your boyfriend? Isn't he the one who asked to borrow your foundation because he ‘wanted to see how it looked on his skin."

“Excuse you! Skincare is for everyone!” She snapped, straightening immediately, and pointing a finger at me.

“He used your lipstick too.” I said, as I raised my eyebrows towards her. She paused, then shrugged.

“Okay yes, but red suits him.” She said casually, while waving her hand. I burst out laughing, and leaned against the counter for support.

“Fine, laugh all you want. Love comes in different forms. Mine is expressive,” She said before sticking her tongue out at me like a child, then hopped onto the kitchen slab, swinging her legs.

I plated the chicken, added the spaghetti with the sauce, and placed two bowls on the table while Monica poured the wine into two glasses.

“To better days,” She toasted, while clinking her avocado sock against my reindeer one. We drank. The wine tasted like slightly fancy grape juice, but it warmed me anyway. I rarely felt it anymore.

Halfway through dinner, my phone rang on the counter, loud and insistent. I glanced at the screen, it was an unknown number.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Serene Dawson?” A professional voice came through from the other side of the phone. “This is Elaine Carter from Winters & Associates.”

“Yes. This is Serene. Serene Dawson” I replied while my heart skipped a beat in nervousness. Monica paused mid bite and stared at me.

“Great,” Elaine said, in a warm welcoming tone. "This is to inform you that your application for the secretary position has been accepted. We would like you to start tomorrow morning, eight sharp. Can you make that?” My hand froze around the fork.

“I -tomorrow?” I asked, stupidly and grabbed the counter to stay upright.

“Yes,” She confirmed, and my heart stopped, literally stopped, stunned to the core. Monica could not help but bounced on her toes, with hands over her mouth.

“Serene?” Elaine prompted, gently. “Are you still there?”

“Yes!” I yelped. “Yes, I am here. I -I can start tomorrow. Absolutely. Thank you so much."

“Wonderful. I will email you the paperwork tonight." Elaine chuckled, and ended the call. I stared at the phone for a moment, and then screamed while throwing myself at Monica.

“I got the job," I yelled, while jumping up and down. “Tomorrow, at 8 AM.”

"Oh my god, congratulations and celebrations." Monica yelled excitedly and hugged me so hard that we almost fell over. We danced around the kitchen like idiots.

"I did not even go to the main interview,” I said, puzzled. “I filled out the form. That’s it.”

"Babe," Monica said, pulling back from the hug, holding me by the shoulders and grinning. “This is the best news. You’ are gonna kill it.”

“Monica, fudge the -what did you do?” I asked, while narrowing my eyes at her. She stiffened and looked everywhere except at me.

She pressed her lips together, then sighed heavily and rubbed her forehead as she said, "Okay, fine but please, don't be mad at me."

“What. Did. You. Do?” I asked again, while my stomach dropped in fear.

“I might have asked my dad to put in a word,” She said in a rush, wincing like she expected me to scream at her. “You were so stressed, and I hate seeing you like this, and Dad golfs with one of the senior partners at Winters, and I just mentioned you. That’s all. I swear.”

“You got your father involved in my job hunt?” I asked, as I pressed my fingertips against my forehead.

“I know you wanted to do it on your own, and I am sorry, but you are brilliant, and you deserve this, and sometimes the world is stupid, and you need a tiny push—” She rushed on, words tumbling over each other.

“Mia,” I cut her off in the mid-sentence, before reaching out and hugging her hard. Tears started to blur my vision, in gratitude.

“Thank you,” I whispered into her hair. “Thank you, I mean it. I am so grateful. You saved me.”

“Oh thank God. I was ready to duck, you know.” She said, and we laughed through fresh tears.

“I won’t let you down. Or your dad. I am going to work my ass off.” I promised, with a determined tone, nodding once as if sealing the promise to myself too.

“You better,” She said, pulling back and wiping her own eyes. “This is Caleb Winters we are talking about.”

“Caleb Winters?” I repeated as I froze. I felt like someone had struck me hard, across the face.

“Yeah. The Caleb Winters, youngest partner in the firm’s history, sexy as sin and twice as ruthless." She said, while letting out a low whistle, clearly impressed with her own description.

I had not looked at the job listing that closely. I mean, I did, but there are a million Winters in Chicago, and I never thought, or dreamed of meeting with him.

“Serene? Babe, what’s wrong?” Monica asked, in concern. Her eyebrows rose as she searched for my expression like she could pull the truth out of me if she stared hard enough.

"I am just, happy." I lied, and tried to force a smile on my face while memories slammed into me.

Caleb Winters.

He was the boy who used to trace constellations on my back with his fingertips, who promised me forever under a sky full of stars when we were nineteen, and I left him at the altar.