Page 70 of A Love Like Christmas Time
“No fire. But there’s a snowstorm approaching.”
Finally, she lets go of me—only to grab my blanket and pull it off me.
“And?” She paces around the room, wringing her hands.
“And if you want to make it back home today, we need to leavenow. And even that’s probably already cutting it close.”
“Wait, what?”
“Get up, Lauren.” She sounds exasperated. Then a pillow hits the side of my head.
“Rude,” I mumble but get up. My bed is the last thing standing in the bedroom, so Nic took the couch in the living room to sleep. This afternoon, movers will come and dispose of anything that’s left in this flat.
“Come on, hurry.” Nic throws a t-shirt, jeans, and a sweater at me that I pull on without even questioning her.
“How do you even know about the snowstorm?”
“Henry called me,” she says over her shoulder as she rummages in my handbag. “Here, charge your phone as we carryall the boxes down. We have to leave in thirty minutes at the latest. Chop chop.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, muffled by the sweatshirt I’m pulling over my head. This early, I am functioning on autopilot.
No wonder. I haven’t even had a coffee yet.
One after the other, we grab the boxes and carry them down to my Jeep. I guess the good thing about being woken at the crack of dawn is that we don’t need to wait for the elevator. Nobody is awake to call it while we’re in my apartment or shove boxes into my car, using our Tetris skills from childhood.
Breaking down the back seats of my car requires a bit of a fight, but it doesn’t throw us back too much time-wise. By the time my neighbors wake up, we are carrying the last set of boxes to the elevator.
“Can you remind Joel to come over to get the charity auction clothes before two?” I ask Nic as we step into the metal monstrosity. “Everything that’s in the apartment after four will be thrown away. And that would be a shame.”
“I’ll shoot him a message as soon as we’re in the car,” she assures me with a nod.
The elevator doors open, and she storms out, ready to leave L.A. and get back home. But I stay in my spot, suddenly frozen in place. It just hit me with the force of an avalanche.
This is the last time I will be seeing this exact view, probably ever.
The tacky grey-marbled lobby. Sven, the night concierge, sits at the reception in his faded red sweatshirt, playing Mario Kart, as he always does when he’s on night shift.
The faded stickers on the elevator walls. A drawing of two hearts next to the button for the eleventh floor.
“Are you coming?” Nic asks, confused, and my eyes shoot to hers.
“Yes.” I take a deep breath and square my shoulders. “I’ll be right there.”
My heels click loudly on the marble floor as I cross the lobby for the last time.
“Bye, Sven!” I call out cheerily. “All the best.”
He lifts his hand for a lazy wave without even looking up from his console. I don’t think he even realizes that the numerous trips Nic, and I made past him mean that I’m moving out.
One time he told me he never adjusts his sleeping schedule for the night shift, since it’s so infrequent. So, he just stays awake for 36 hours. Today must be one of those days.
Still. I have to admit. It stings that he couldn’t even bother to say ‘goodbye.’ I guess that’s this city for you.
“Come on.” Nic nudges me with her box, and we slip through the side door to the parking garage. The last boxes fit into my trunk like missing puzzle pieces, and finally, we climb into our seats, Nic behind the wheel and me playing passenger princess.
After a quick stop at a coffee drive-through, I’m in better spirits. Finally! A gingerbread latte that I didn’t have to stir my own syrup into. I groan when the flavor hits my tongue.
“This is divine.” The artificial sweetness simply hits differently than my organic syrup.
