“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you,” I say. “But what was I supposed to think? Mia said you took her out.”

“Do you not trust me?”

“Don’t take it personally,” I say. “I don’t trust anyone.”

He puts his head in his hands, gives another frustrated sigh.

“Well, what about you, huh?” I say, stepping backward, putting distance between us. As I do, the goddamn sleigh bells jingle. “You haven’t reached out to me at all. You didn’t ask me about Kevin. You were just as quick to dismiss me. Did you ever stop to consider that maybe I’m dealing with shit? Serious shit. So I don’t know where you get off assuming everything is about you and then telling me I’m the one after attention.”

He doesn’t say anything. Santa ho-ho-hos behind me.

“Did you ever stop to think about my life, how I grew up? All those creeps that my mom brought around. You have no idea what I’ve been through, the things I’m dealing with. And, yeah, I’m confident. I know my worth. I know how I present myself. But I’m not fucking invulnerable. So I’m sorry. I know I messed up. But it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because I care so much, it terrifies me.”

“Merrrrryy Christmas,” Santa thunders. “Have you been naughty? Or have you been nice?”

“Yeah,” Ian says. “You’re right. I don’t know what you’ve been through. But I’m not a mind reader, Rory.”

“Oh, wow. News to me.”

He steps toward me. The bells chime.

“What was I supposed to think? First, you disappear. Then I find out you’re hooking up with guys at bars. You don’t tell me anything, not about how you’re feeling. How am I supposed to know if you refuse to tell me?”

Guess he’s got me there.

“Because . . .” I assumed there would be a sentence to follow, but I don’t appear to have one on deck.

“Because why? Why can’t you tell me?”

While my brain is scrambling, the rest of me goes ahead without it. “Because I’m falling in love with you and I’m a fucking monster!”

I’ve done it now.

“Have you been naughty? Or have you been nice?” Santa asks. “Ho-ho-ho!”

I take a deep breath and look down at my hands. I’ve got something underneath my fingernails. I think it might be Mia’s scalp.

“What?” Ian comes toward me.

The sleigh bells are going, or maybe what I’m actually hearing is the harbinger of death arriving to put me out of my misery.

“What did you say?”

“I said . . . something very eloquent and charming that made you want to be with me.”

“I do. I thought I made that clear,” he says. He’s in front of me now. “But I can’t keep going back and forth.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Even if you change your mind. You have to talk to me. You have to tell me. You can’t disappear. You can’t hide things from me. It’s not fair.”