“You’ve worked here for a while now, plus you’re a manager. You deserve that day off,” he told me. “It’s mostly cleanup anyway. Who’s going to come in and complain about a tree they bought from us?”

“You never know,” I said, and he just laughed.

Not that the day after Christmas is particularly difficult. No one really comes to the farm, save for the people eager to grab some deals on Christmas décor that Victoria marks down in her store. But they all show up early, filling the red barn quick, in search of a bargain. By ten in the morning the onslaught is gone, and we’re left with a mostly empty store and lot. We usually spend the rest of the day cleaning up, just as Charlie said.

Honestly, it’s kind of sad, spending your day at a Christmas tree farm the day after Christmas. It would always leave me feeling melancholy.

Maybe I should be glad I won’t be there.

Right now, though, the place is still hopping. We discount the trees the last couple of days to get rid of what we can. Most of the temporary lots set up around the Monterey peninsula are cleared out and gone. If you want a tree, you have to come out to the farm.

And they do come out, more so than usual this year. Feels like people are here just to hang out among the trees. Over the years, Victoria has created a few photogenic spots around the farm where people can pose for social media worthy photos. All we ask is they tag Sullivan Christmas Tree Farm in their posts, which they almost always do. That tends to bring in an influx of business, specifically teenagers who are constantly on the search of that perfect, Instagram story–worthy photo.

They also come for the free hot chocolate and candy canes, and today they’re handing out free cutout cookies decorated with sprinkles too. I’ve had more than my share this morning already.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket and I check it to see I have a text message from Amelia.

My entire body springs to life just seeing her name appear on my phone screen. It’s been too long, and I can’t wait to see her again. Hold her in my arms. Fuse my mouth to hers. She’s addictive. Intoxicating. I think about her and the word more floats through my brain.

More Amelia. That’s what I want.

All the time.

Amelia: What are you doing tonight?

I think about my usual ritual when it comes to Christmas Eve these last few years. I normally go home, take a long hot shower and collapse into bed, where I sleep like the dead for hours. It’s as if my body knows the holiday rush is over. I wake up late on Christmas morning, throw the presents I bought my family into the holiday gift bags I picked up from the Dollar Tree before I head over to Mom and Dad’s house and enjoy a delicious meal. Dad’s deep frying the turkey again this year and I’m looking forward to it. We’ll probably throw back a few beers too.