ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS: A Second Chance

The office was too quiet it’s Sunday. Sophia Benson sat at her desk, staring at the computer screen. Her eyes hurt. She’d been reading the same paragraph for ten minutes and the words weren’t making sense anymore. Three hundred words. That’s all she needed. Just enough to make a rich tech guy who’d harassed six women sound like he deserved another chance. She hated this part of her job. But she was really good at it. Her fingers moved across the keyboard. She knew exactly what to write. She’d done this a hundred times before. Make the bad thing, sound less bad. “I recognize my behavior made people uncomfortable.” Not “I harassed my employees.” “I’m committed to personal growth and change.” Not “I got caught and now I’m sorry.” The words came easily. Too easy. After five years doing crisis PR in Los Angeles, Sophia could write these statements in her sleep. She’d turned cheating athletes into family men. Made corrupt politicians look misunderstood. Helped awful celebrities seem humble and kind. All it took was finding the right words and putting them in the right order. Her phone buzzed. A text from her boss, Linda. How’s the Morrison statement coming? Sophia looked at what she’d written. Almost done. Sending by 6. You’re a lifesaver. Enjoy your weekend. Sophia almost laughed. Right. She looked around her office. Big windows showing all of downtown LA. An expensive desk. Awards on the wall in expensive frames. Everything was gray and white and chrome. Clean. Professional. Cold. She couldn’t remember the last time she actually enjoyed a weekend. Her stomach made a noise. She’d forgotten to eat lunch. Again. There was a protein bar somewhere on her desk. She found it under a pile of folders and ate it while she finished typing. The Morrison statement was good. Maybe too good. It made him sound sorry without actually admitting he did anything wrong. It showed he was taking action by going to therapy. It suggested he was the real victim here. Sophia read it one more time. Perfect. She hit send. 6:15 pm. The sun was going down. From up here, LA looked pretty. Like someone had put a filter on it to hide all the ugly parts. Sophia stood up and her back cracked. She’d been sitting for five hours straight. She grabbed her coat and purse, turned off the lights, and locked her office. The whole building was empty. Nobody worked on Sundays except her. And Alex, the security guard downstairs. “Have a good night, Ms. Benson.” “You too, Alex.” Her car was alone in the parking garage. A black sedan. Nothing fancy. She’d paid it off last year. One less bill to worry about. The drive home took twenty minutes. She lived in a nice area. The kind with families and dogs and kids riding bikes. Sophia kept her eyes on the road. Her apartment building was new. Expensive. The kind of place with a doorman and a gym nobody used. She parked and took the elevator to the eighth floor. Apartment 8C. She unlocked the door and stepped inside. Everything was exactly how she’d left it that morning. The gray couch. The glass coffee table. White walls with nothing on them. No pictures. No plants. The only thing on her dining table was her work laptop. Sophia dropped her purse and opened the fridge. Half a chicken from three days ago. Spinach that might be going bad. Almond milk. She wasn’t hungry anyway. She poured a glass of wine and sat on the couch. The TV remote was right there. She could turn on a show. Or read one of the books on her shelf that she’d never opened. Or call someone. She did none of those things. She just sat there in the dark, drinking wine, looking out the window at the city lights. Her phone buzzed again. She almost ignored it. But she never ignored her phone. That’s how you missed important things. It was Maya. Her little sister. Did you get the invitation? Sophia’s stomach dropped. She knew exactly what invitation Maya meant. It had come three days ago. She’d left it on the kitchen counter and hadn’t looked at it since. The wedding invite. Yeah, I got it, she wrote back. Three dots popped up. Maya is typing. And? And what? Are you coming? Sophia closed her eyes. She’d been avoiding this. Thinking about it. And making a decision. Going home meant facing things she’d spent seven years running from. Her family. Her past. The town where everyone knew what her father did. The place where she used to be happy before everything fell apart. The place where Dante Mario was probably still. Her phone rang. Maya wasn’t going to let her get away with texting. Sophia answered. “Hey.” “Don’t hear me. Are you coming to my wedding or not?” “Maya, I’m really busy right now. Work is insane and I’ve got this big project in January.” “It’s my wedding, Soph. My wedding. You’re my sister. You’re supposed to be my maid of honor.” Sophia rubbed her forehead. A headache was starting. “I know. I just don’t know if I can get away.” “You haven’t been home in three years. Mom misses you. Grandma asks about you every time I talk to her.” “I’ve been busy.” “You’re always busy.” Maya’s voice got quieter. “I know coming home is hard. I know things with Dad are weird. But Soph, it’s my wedding. I need you there.” Sophia felt the tightness in her chest that showed up whenever anyone mentioned home. Or family. Or anything that required actual feelings. “How long do I need to stay?” “The wedding is on Christmas Eve. Come a few days before? Help me with stuff? It’ll be fun. Like old times.” Fun. Sophia couldn’t remember what fun felt like. “I don’t know.” “Three days. That’s all I’m asking. Get here on December twenty-first. You can leave the day after Christmas if you want. Please, Soph.” Three days. Sophia could survive three days, go to the wedding. Smile. Play the good sister. Leave. “Okay.” “Okay? Really? You mean it?” “I mean it. I’ll be there.” “Oh my god. Thank you. Thank you so much.” Maya’s voice went up. “I have to tell Jake. And Mom. She’s going to cry. You know how she gets.” Sophia did know. Her mom cried at commercials. “I’m really happy you’re coming,” Maya said. “It means everything. I love you.” “Love you too.” They hung up. Sophia sat there wondering what she’d just agreed to. Christmas at the lodge. Three days with her family. Three days of questions about her life and her job and why she was still single at twenty-five. Three days of maybe running into people she used to know. Three days of possibly seeing him. She finished her wine in one long drink. Tomorrow she’d book a flight. Tonight she’d just sit here and try not to think about it. But she was already thinking about it. About going home. About the lodge covered in Christmas lights. About her grandmother’s cooking and her mother’s hugs and Maya’s excited wedding planning. About brown eyes and a smile that used to make her believe in forever. Sophia got up and walked to her bedroom. She should eat something real. Instead, she got into bed fully dressed and stared at the ceiling. In three weeks she’d be home. Back to the place she’d spent seven years avoiding. Back to everything she’d left behind. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep. She couldn’t. Because in three weeks, she might see Dante Mario again. And she had no idea what she’d say to him. No idea if he’d even want to talk to her. No idea if she could handle seeing him happy without her. Three weeks. That’s all the time she had to prepare. It would never be enough.