Under the Mistletoe

I stare out at the crashing waves of the empty beach, each swell breaking against the shore like a heartbeat, rhythmic, and relentless. The moon hangs high above, a radiant orb casting a silvery glow that dances on the water's surface, creating a shimmering path that seems to beckon me closer. The cool breeze brushes against my skin, playfully teasing my shoulder-length blonde hair, a gentle reminder of the warmth of summer nights long past. Tonight, I stand alone, but I am not truly alone. I can almost hear my mother's laughter mingling with the sound of the surf, a sweet melody that echoes in my heart. I had done it—I finally finished my accounting and business degree, something I had dreamed of achieving since I was a child. At 26 years old, it feels like a monumental victory, yet as I stand here, a bittersweet weight settles in my chest. My mind drifts to thoughts of her, and a wave of longing washes over me. She would have been beaming with pride, her eyes sparkling like the stars above. Tears threaten to spill, but I fight them back, stubbornly blinking them away. God, I miss her. It’s hard to believe it’s been three years since she left this world, three years of birthdays and moments I wished I could share with her. I close my eyes for a moment, letting the memories flood in—her encouraging words, the way she always believed in me, even when I doubted myself. Sighing, I raise my drink to my lips, the glass cool in my hand. I take a small sip, grimacing at the sharp taste of the alcohol that burns my throat. I’m not much of a drinker, but tonight feels different; it feels like a celebration, a toast to all the hard work and sleepless nights that led me here. Still, it feels hollow without her to share it with. I take another sip, trying to drown out the ache in my heart. Hearing the chime of the doorbell, my eyes drift over to the entrance of the beach bar café. A familiar warmth spreads through me as I take in the tacky Christmas decorations—twinkling lights and gaudy ornaments that seem to sparkle with holiday cheer. A small smile tugs at my lips. I love everything about Christmas: the scent of pine, the sound of carols, the way everything feels a little more magical. But then, my smile falters at the thought of returning home to my father. Christmas was never celebrated in our house, not in any real way. It was only when Jennifer wanted to impress some big shots that the decorations would go up, and the façade of family cheer would come to life. I shudder at the thought of being back in that stifling environment, especially with the family business, Holms Enterprise, teetering on the brink of bankruptcy. All thanks to Dad, who had inexplicably put Adaline in charge. She didn’t have the slightest clue about running a business—unless her mother’s scheming played a part in it. The embezzlement attempts had failed spectacularly, and I could only watch as the walls of our legacy crumbled around us. I’m jolted from my thoughts by a deep voice cutting through the café’s hum. My eyes are drawn to a tall figure—he must be at least 6 foot 3, with brown hair that curls just above his shoulders, and light stubble gracing his strong jaw. His bright brown eyes meet mine, and he offers a small, polite smile that sends a jolt of warmth through me. He’s gorgeous, in an unkempt, effortlessly charming way that makes my heart race. “Sorry, did you say something?” I stammer, my awkwardness catching up with me as a blush spreads across my cheeks. He chuckles, a low, rich sound that makes me feel both flustered and oddly at ease. “I was just asking if this spot was taken.” He gestures to the chair next to me. I shake my head, feeling my heart flutter. “No, no—you can have it. I was just about to leave anyway. Once I’ve finished this,” I say, lifting my half-full drink as if it’s a valid excuse. His brow arches slightly, but he doesn’t push the point. Instead, his gaze drifts toward the ocean, where the waves lap gently at the shore, reflecting the moonlight like scattered diamonds. I feel a flutter of disappointment at the thought of him not sitting down, but then I find myself sneaking glances at him, curiosity piquing my interest. What could someone so striking be doing in this small seaside town? And why on earth was he talking to me? Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but I feel a surge of courage as I turn toward him. “What brings you to this quiet part of town?” I ask, my curiosity bubbling over. His smile is genuine, his eyes sparkling with warmth. “Just a small getaway before the madness of the Christmas rush begins.” A genuine smile breaks across my face at his words. “As much as I love Christmas, I do hate the crowds.” He nods in agreement, a glimmer of understanding in his gaze. “How rude of me, what is your name? And what are you doing here, alone?” he asks, taking a sip of his drink, his attention fully on me. “May. But im actually here celebrating. I just got my degree in business and accounting.” I can feel the pride swelling in my chest as I say it, the hard work and late nights flooding back to me. “So, I guess this is a small holiday of celebration before I head back home. Then comes the big job of applying for positions in that field and working part-time at a small café.” A fond smile creeps onto my face at the thought of returning to Buttercakes Bread. The little café is my haven, and Jeff, the owner, is more like a granddad to me than just a boss. He’s always been there with a warm hug and a slice of pie whenever I needed it most. He nods along, genuinely interested, his eyes never leaving mine. It sends a flutter of excitement through my stomach. “I wish you luck in your job hunting,” he says earnestly. “Thanks!” I reply, feeling a rush of gratitude. “What about you? What do you do?” I watch him hesitate for a moment, a flicker of something—suspicion, maybe?—clouding his bright eyes, but it’s gone before I can pin it down. “I own a small business up north,” he finally says, his voice steady. When he doesn’t elaborate, I feel an awkward tension creeping in. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” I stammer, a bit embarrassed. He gives me a strange look, his brow furrowing. “You don’t know who I am,” he states, half-questioning, half-stating. I frown at him, genuinely puzzled. “Sorry, am I meant to?” He studies me for a few more seconds, as if weighing something invisible before shaking his head, a smile breaking across his face. “No, I guess not. Just… not everyone recognizes me, I suppose.” I give a short laugh, shaking my head at his cryptic comment. “That’s a little weird to say. Sorry if you’re some celebrity, but I honestly don’t know who you are.” He laughs again, the sound deep and gruff, sending a delightful shiver through my body. Butterflies swirl in my stomach, and goosebumps prick my skin, making me acutely aware of how close we’re sitting. “I’m not a celebrity,” he assures me, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “But you’re pretty interesting yourself. How about we head to the small club a few blocks away?” My heart races at the suggestion. I’ve never been one for clubbing—loud music, crowded dance floors, and the chaos of it all usually overwhelm me. But sitting here with him, feeling the easy chemistry we’ve developed, makes me reconsider. Maybe it’s time to step out of my comfort zone, even just for a night. “Sure,” I reply, surprising myself with my eagerness. “Why not? I could use a change of scenery.” He raises an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. “Great! Let’s see what the night has in store for us.” As we both stand, I feel a flutter of excitement mixed with apprehension. I take one last glance at the ocean, the waves still crashing rhythmically against the shore, then turning back to him. He offers me his arm, and I take it, feeling a rush of warmth at the simple gesture.