Because Kate and Billy had grown up together, had so much history together, they stayed close friends—much to my dismay—after their breakup, after she and I got together, and after we were married.

Which all explains why I’m feeling frustration, disgust, jealousy, anger. Pick a negative emotion, and I’m feeling it at this moment.

“Why would she do that?” I demand.

Dee lifts a shoulder casually. “Because they were engaged. Because they thought they loved each other . . . enough. Because they settled. And also because she never met you—so she never realized what genuine passion and love are supposed to feel like.”

“I can’t believe she married him.” Again, my hand covers my heart.

Because it aches.

“If it makes you feel any better, they got divorced.”

I perk right up. “You should have started with that. It makes me feel hugely fucking better, by the way.”

Under her breath, she hisses, “Ass.” Then she explains. “Billy and Katie stuck it out for three years, then called it quits. He went out to LA and she threw herself into her work like never before. They don’t speak at all. When a marriage goes sour, it always leaves a bitter taste.”

My attention turns back to Kate as she speaks into the headset again. “Stop busting my balls, Saul. You and I both know the glory days of your technology division are behind you.”

I take a seat on the stiff couch and watch her. I could look at Kate all day and never get bored, but watching her work? Seeing her in her element?

It’s fascinating. A thing of true beauty.

She braces her hands on the desk, tapping her toe on the floor. “You’re quickly becoming a small fish in a very large ocean. Before long, a big bad shark is going to come along and chomp you into little pieces. But if you do the smart thing, sign with me and let me make this deal for you—I’ll be your own personal harpoon. And we’ll feast on shark fin soup together. What’s it gonna be, Mr. Anderson?”

Fucking Christ almighty.

Saul Anderson.

There’s a blast from the past.

The first client Kate and I tried to close. The one who basically sexually harassed her, and who I told to go screw a pooch. And now Kate has him on the ropes.

Even though this is some weird, fucked-up alternate reality, I’m so damn proud of her.

I don’t hear Anderson’s answer, but I don’t have to. The adorable hand-flapping, hip-shaking dance of joy she does around her desk says it all.

Though she’s smiling wide enough to pull a cheek muscle, she composes her voice. “That sounds perfect. I’ll have the papers overnighted to you. Excellent. Yes, to you as well—I think this will be a very happy New Year.”

She ends the call, and her dancing turns to jumping. Laughing.

And I laugh with her.

She picks up the phone and dials a new number. “Hi, Christopher. Oh . . . yes, Merry Christmas to you, too. It sounds like you’re having quite the party there.”

She pauses as Christopher responds.

I ask Dee sharply, “Who’s Christopher?”

“Relax, Hulk—he’s her boss. Nothing more. In fact, she has a less-than-zero social life.”

I consider that for a moment. “She doesn’t date? No boyfriend? No random hookups, no no-strings-attached fuck-buddy waiting in the wings?”

Delores shakes her head. “Kate was never a one-night-stand kind of girl. After Billy, she gave up on relationships altogether. Too much effort, very little payoff.”

I smile.

And Dee inquires, “That makes you happy, doesn’t it?”

I cannot tell a lie. “Yeah, it really does.”

She throws a pillow at my head.

Kate’s voice brings my eyes back to her. “I wanted to let you know that I just signed Saul Anderson. That’s right! Merry Christmas indeedy.”

Christopher responds, and a look of pure pride and joy washes over her face. “I’m thrilled to accept the vice president position. Yes. Absolutely—you can count on me, Chris. Okay, I will. Have a pleasant evening, as well.”

She hangs up and more dancing commences. Her boobs bounce in time with her hips, and the only thing that would make this show better is popcorn.

Well . . . and if her clothes spontaneously fell off.

Kate picks up the phone and tells her mother all about the big promotion. They only talk for a few minutes—Kate promises to come home soon to visit. Then she hangs up.

She takes a bottle of champagne out of her minifridge and pours a single glass. Then she kicks off her shoes and walks to the window, gazing out over the lights of the city.

I stand up so my view is unobstructed.

As Kate stands there, her joyous expression slowly falters. Turns . . . sad . . . awash with yearning. Lonely.

I think about all the different faces of Kate that I’ve seen. Passionate, hot and horny, sweet and tender, silly and smart-assy . . . nurturing, loving . . . motherly.

She’s a perfect wife. And she’s the most amazing mother.

But here, now, she didn’t get to be any of those things.

And that’s so fucking wrong.

Kate glances at her glass of champagne and whispers, “Merry Christmas, Kate.” Then she takes a sip.

“Hey, Dee?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember when I said I was happy that Kate wasn’t involved with anyone?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not happy about it anymore.”

Delores walks to me and takes my arm. “Then it’s time to go.”

* * *

We’re back in my office—my real office. The family portrait of me, Kate, and James sitting on my desk proves that this is my time, my reality—where Kate and I met, fell in love, spawned, and married.

And I sigh with blessed fucking relief.

I’m at my desk while Delores sits cross-legged in one of the chairs across from me.

“You were thinking about soul mates before. Remember? The truth is, soul mates are real: halves of the same coin. They can live without each other, go on to have successful, content existences. But they’ll never be as perfectly happy as they would’ve been, and could be, if they find their other half. That’s what you and Kate are like.”

I smile. “That sounds just about right to me.” I rub a hand down my face. “I want to go home, Dee. I want to hug my kid and kiss my wife and just . . . be with them. I want to look back and remember having this awesome night—with them.”

Delores grins and she almost looks proud of me. “First you have to wake up, Drew.”

And she snaps her fingers.

chapter

6

I jolt violently awake at my desk, nailing my shin on the drawer in the process. “Goddamn it!”

I rub my leg and check the time. Seven thirty. Though it feels like a lot longer, only an hour and a half has passed since I arrived at the office.

I still have time.

I rattle off a quick email, canceling my conference with Media Solutions and attaching a PDF of my proposal. I tell them, in a professional sounding way, that they can take it or leave it, and if they leave it—it’s their loss.

Then I grab my stuff and sprint through the city.

I walk through my sister’s apartment door twenty minutes later, brushing snowflakes off my shoulders from the storm that just started. I head right for the family room—and see everyone there, just like I knew they would be.

A dark-haired little blur runs toward me. “Daddy!”

Laughing, I scoop him up and hug James until he squeaks. He leans back and gifts me with a faultless smile. “I knew you’d come.”

A lump clogs my throat.

I push past it to tell him, “And I’m so happy that you knew that. I love you, buddy. More than anything else in the whole world.”

He giggles. “I know.”

I keep him in my arms as Alexandra comes to greet me. “It’s about time.”

“Sorry I’m late.” And I hug her just a little longer than usual. “I don’t think I’ve told you lately, but you’re the best sister ever, Lexi.”

She ruffles my hair. “How sweet are you?”

From across the room, Mackenzie raises her shot glass of apple cider. “Glad you could make it, Uncle Drew.”

“Glad to be here, sweetheart! You and I need to talk—I owe you. I’ll explain later.”

My sister insists, “No ponies, or farm animals of any kind!”

And the whole room laughs.

I pass Delores and shock the shit out of her by kissing her on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Dee.”

She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Are you drunk?”

I chuckle. “Kind of feels like it.”

Then I spot Kate. And every fiber of my being hums with devotion and relief.

She eyes me warily. Stiffly. Still annoyed.

I set James on his feet. “You want to kick Uncle Matthew’s and Uncle Steven’s asses in Ping-Pong?”

“Definitely!”

I jerk my head to the table. “Go set it up. I’m going to talk to your mom a sec.”

I walk up to Kate and guide her to a corner of the room, out of the others’ earshot.

“Did your meeting finish up early?” she asks in a steely voice.

Can’t really blame her.

“I canceled the meeting.”

Her big, gorgeous brown eyes look surprised. And hopeful. “Why?”

“Because being here with you is more important than any deal. I never should’ve scheduled work on Christmas Eve. I never should’ve left the apartment when you were upset about it. I won’t do it again. I’m sorry.”

Kate gazes into my eyes, reading my sincerity. Then she smiles. With so much love, it makes my knees tremble.

“I forgive you.”

I pull her to me and kiss her deeply. Tenderly. Stroking her cheek with my thumb.

Then Kate looks up into my face. “Are you okay? You seem different.”

“I had this really screwed-up dream. I’ll tell you about it later.” Then I think of something else. “Hey—what do you think of going to Bumfuck, Ohio, for New Year’s Eve?”

She smiles even brighter. “I would love that.”

I wink. “Then so will I.”

* * *

Later, after we tuck James into bed and he’s out cold, Kate and I spend two hours putting together a shiny blue bicycle and an eight-foot-wide kid’s trampoline with enclosure that will take up residence in the formal dining room.

At least that room will finally have a frigging purpose.

When we’re finished, just after midnight, we sit back on the couch and gaze at the fruits of our labor. The twinkling lights of the tree reflect magically off the big red bows and the green reindeer wrapping paper. Behind the tree, outside the large picture window, delicate snowflakes cascade down from the dark sky—it’s a picture straight out of a goddamn Hallmark holiday special.

Kate’s eyes settle on me. Adoringly. “We make a pretty good team.”

I rub her shoulder. “We really do.”

It’s something I’ll never forget again.

I get up and head to the kitchen. When I come back, there’s two wineglasses and a bottle of Chateau Petrus 2002 in my hands. I uncork the bottle, letting it breathe for less time than I should, and pour a generous glass for each of us.

Kate takes the wine with a smile, and I raise my glass.

“Merry Christmas, Kate.”

She taps my glass with a clink. “Merry Christmas, Drew.”

We sip, then I lean in for a wine-flavored kiss.

Delicious.

Next, I stand up and mess with the stereo. The sound of Michael Bublé singing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” fills the room, low enough not to wake James. I take her glass and set it on the table.

Then I hold out my hand to my amazing wife. “May I have this dance, Mrs. Evans?”

Her warm hand slides into mine. “There’s nothing I’d rather do, Mr. Evans.” Then—because Kate is the perfect woman—she adds, “Well, maybe there’s one thing—but I’m sure we’ll get to that later.”

I chuckle deeply. My arms wrap around her, holding her against me, her head resting against my chest. And in the light of the Christmas tree, we sway in time to the music.

Was it all just a dream?

Honestly? I don’t fucking know. But I’m grateful it happened. Because even someone as brilliant as me needs a refresher once in a while about what’s really important. The moments that matter. And the people we can’t and don’t want to imagine living without.

As I dance with the love of my life on Christmas Eve, I swear I hear the soft ring of a bell. And if you believe what that legend says, then somewhere, an angel has gotten her wings.