Page 102 of Don't Be in Love

Don’t Spend Christmas Alone — Adelaide

Christmas morning, I woke to Kurt pawing at my balcony door, snow refilling the sidewalks, and the jarring realization that everything that had happened last night was not a dream. It was indeed real. Terribly real.

Finding Dorian at my apartment door. Letting him in. Going on the London Eye. Running back in the rain. Taking cover in a telephone booth. Touching him. Kissing him. Whispering his name. Feeling his hand leave mine as he dropped me at home, no lingering words. No declarations of lo—

Stop. Stop, stop, stop.

“Kurt, stop!” I shouted, the bell on his collar ringing through my brain.

I looked up and he was sitting politely, snow collecting on his white coat on the balcony. His pink nose tilted innocently as I noticed a tiny note tied to his collar.

“Ugh. Fine, I’m coming.” I threw the duvet off and swung my legs over. Catching myself in the mirror, I remembered I had put Dorian’s UK flag shirt on in my drowsy state last night.

Oh. My. God. I scrambled for a sweatshirt—one that’d mask the smell of his cologne—before opening the balcony door. A cold breeze and a few snowflakes tumbled in, along with Kurt who squeezed through the crack. He meowed his thank you.

“Hello, Kurt,” I sighed as if I was greeting the coworker who refused to save any donuts for the rest of the office.

He ran straight for my closet far away from the balcony to the pile of blankets folded on the floor. He nuzzled in until his tail twisted like a whip and curled around him.

“Now that you’re sitting still …” I walked around my bed and crouched in front of the closet, untying the note from his collar.

It was short in sweeping cursive:

Happy Christmas from Maureen & Kurt.

I exhaled. Looked like we were both riding solo today.

Spend the holidays like Maureen?Dorian had said. There was nothing wrong with being alone. I thrived on being alone. But after spending the night with him … I wasn’t alone now. Dorian Thoughts occupied every corner of my mind.

Iris and Dotty extended an invite, of course, but I felt intrusive, interrupting their conversations with their nieces and nephews and not having gifts to bring along.

Grabbing a pen from my nightstand, I scribble on the back of the note:

Tea? — Adelaide

I tied the message back onto Kurt and gripped the blanket he rested on, sliding it across the hardwood floor, down the hall, and out the front door.

“Go!” I cheered. He yelled at me in protest as I shut the door.

I raced to my room, threw on a semi-respectable sweater that made me look semi-responsible, switching the Christmas tree on before I was back at the door, answering the knock

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you have plans already?” I paused in the doorway, taking in Maureen’s black dress pants, burgundy blouse, and matching cardigan, pearls dangling from her ears.The ends of her short white hair were flipped in like a blooming flower.

“No, I just like to dress up for the holidays,” she responded curtly. She shoved a pile of envelopes into my hand before walking through the foyer with a tray of cookies covered in plastic wrap.

I closed the door before I realized the envelopes were my mail from downstairs.

Pretty sure it was illegal to collect someone else’s mail, but I guess we were passed that since we had unwritten shared custody of Kurt. She fed him and I housed him. Now she got to deliver my mail.

“Where are you originally from?” I asked. I had never heard her talk long enough to realize she wasn’t British.

“New York,” she answered, finding her way into my kitchen without any help. I trotted in behind Kurt where she sat at our small circular table already unwrapping the plastic to reveal shortbread cookies sided in red and green sprinkles.

“Oh, I have a friend from New York! His name is Mart—”

“I haven’t been to New York in thirty years so the chance of me knowing your friend is about as likely as Kurt being my mother reincarnated.”

Alright then.