It was nearly eight when Abby pulled into the parking lot of Nic’s apartment complex. She was about to open the door when Abby turned the engine off. She turned to her. Her face was in shadows, preventing her from reading her eyes.

“So…”

Nic nodded. “Yeah. Here we are.”

“Well, I can’t thank you enough for going with me. You made the whole situation with Holly bearable. And, of course, made me realize that she was never the one for me. So, thank you for that.”

“Thank you for giving me a real Christmas. I’ll remember it always.”

Abby reached a hand over and touched her arm. “My mother loved having you there. She’ll be crushed when we break up.”

Nic smiled at that. “I really liked your mother. Maybe you should wait a few months before you tell her. That way you can just say we grew apart or something. Or tell her we realized it was just lust and not love.”

Abby squeezed her arm then released her. “I hope you find someone someday, Nic. Someone you can let in. You’re too nice—good—of a person to be alone.”

“Thanks. Maybe I will.”

She opened the door finally, getting out. From the backseat, she took her backpack, then waited while Abby popped the back door. She took out her larger bag and set it on the sidewalk. Abby closed the hatch, then walked over to her. They said nothing as Abby’s arms went around her shoulders. She drew Abby close, relishing this last hug. Then, after a lingering kiss on her cheek, Abby pulled away. Their eyes met for a brief second, and Abby looked like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. She went back to her car, but before she got inside, she turned back to her.

“Goodbye, Nic. Take care of yourself.”

She nodded. “Goodbye.”

She stood there long after the taillights disappeared into the night. With a heavy sigh, she picked up her bags and headed to the stairs. Once inside her apartment, she flipped the lights on. It was as she’d left it—empty and quiet.

She stood there, looking around for a long moment, listening to the quiet, then she opened her bag. She carefully unwrapped the snow globe. She shook it, watching the tiny snowflakes cover the gingerbread house. When the snow settled, she shook it again, then set it down, reaching inside her bag once more. This time she pulled out the red stocking. Nicole. She smiled as she stared at it, then put it on the bar beside the snow globe. She pulled out a barstool, sitting down and resting her chin in her palm, her gaze going between the globe and the stocking. She was shocked to feel tears in her eyes, even more surprised when they ran down her cheeks.

She couldn’t ever remember feeling lonelier than she did at that very moment.

Chapter Thirty-nine