My December Darling: A Holiday Novella

I finish wrapping up with a patient’s chart when my phone vibrates in my pocket. Before I answer, I head to the nurse’s station that was recently decorated with red-and-white striped wrapping paper. In the process of returning the chart, I trip over a mini pine tree someone bought at the local grocery store but thankfully, none of the ornaments break.

“Hey, man,” Aiden says as soon as I pick up the call.

“What’s up?” I turn away from the counter.

“I need a favor.”

Someone who sounds a lot like Gabriela is panicking in the background, spouting off about family members causing trouble and a cake.

“Everything okay?”

“Not really, but I’m hoping it will be. Can you cover my shift tomorrow? Please.”

Fuck. The last thing I want to do after an all-nighter tonight is repeat it tomorrow, but Aiden would do the same for me, no questions asked, so I nod. “Sure.”

“Thanks. I’ll return the favor whenever you want.”

“Don’t worry about it. Do you need any help? Besides the obvious I mean.”

He sighs. “No, but I appreciate it. Gabriela and I just need to sort out a little issue.”

“Little?” Gabriela’s voice gets louder. “The bakery lost our cake order!”

I wince. “Sounds like you’ve got it all covered.”

“Wish me luck?”

“Forget luck. You need patience and a six-pack of beer ASAP.”

Two back-to-back night shifts is killing me. My exhaustion worsens from one hour to the next, so I take a much-needed break and head to the coffee vending machine. There are a few strategically placed throughout the hospital, but my favorite one happens to be located on the fourth floor near the NICU.

It’s quiet up here and far removed from the emergency room, so I can take a breather without worrying about a nurse coming to find me or someone yelling out codes in the background.

“Only a few more hours,” I remind myself as I check for any updates from the nurses before taking a quick glance at my unopened messages on my phone.

The text thread I share with my parents is hardly used throughout the year, unlike the one I was added to when Aiden’s family unofficially adopted me a few years back. That chat is full of love, jokes poking fun at each other, and too many videos sent by Aiden’s mother, covering a range of medical topics from the importance of gut health to cutting sugar from our diets.

Mom

Your father and I wanted to let you know that we won’t be home for Christmas this year.

Of course not. My parents are rarely at the house I grew up in. Whether they are pulling long hours at their competing law firms or traveling for a conference, they have spent a majority of my life outside of the house, so I’m used to their absence.

More often than not, I wish my parents were more like Aiden’s. They didn’t have a lot of money, but they made up for it with enough love to make their kids want to return home for the holidays.

Me

Where are you going?

I send the text without expecting a reply. Regardless of what they have planned, it’s clear that I’m not invited to be part of it.

Dragging my feet, I walk over to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Lake Aurora and sip my sad, watery excuse for black coffee. This town is similar to Lake Wisteria, where I currently rent a small apartment with Aiden, although the town square lacks the same distinct coastal charm since it was remodeled back in the nineties. While the houses were preserved, the main business area was renovated, replacing history with glass structures that lack warmth or character.

Thankfully, their expansion project included the very hospital Aiden and I work at, so while I can’t complain, I don’t mind criticizing them for wiping out over a century of history.

A frustrated huff has me turning around to find a woman dressed in Christmas-themed scrubs jabbing her finger against the latté button three times. Gingerbread men are scattered across the cotton scrub top while the bottoms are a bright but plain forest green. I swear I don’t mean to ogle, but her perfect ass shakes from side to side as she leans forward to read the tiny letters on the machine.

My nails dig into the Styrofoam cup as I chastise myself for checking out another employee like this.

Yet you can’t seem to take your eyes off her.

She stabs at the same broken latté button and curses in Spanish, seemingly unaware of my presence.

“You can only get black coffee with this one,” I offer out of guilt.

Her ponytail whips around her as she turns to face me with wide brown eyes.

“Catalina,” I say with a raspy voice.

Her nose scrunches at the sound of her full name. “What are you doing here, Lucas?”

“Luke,” I emphasize with a smile before motioning toward my scrubs. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“I thought Aiden was supposed to be working tonight.”

“He was, but something came up. I think he mentioned an issue with the wedding cake?”

Her lips form an O.

“What are you doing here?” My gaze flickers over her scrubs. The cheery holiday pattern fabric isn’t one I’d associate with her, but then again, my preference for basic dark-colored scrubs isn’t reflective of my personality either. The only holiday cheer I’m spreading lately is a request for every patient to get the flu shot, so who am I to talk?

Catalina fiddles with the plastic clip of her ID badge, which is shaped and painted to resemble a snowman. “I’m filling in for someone who went on leave.”

“For how long?”

“A month.”

My surprise must be written across my face because she asks, “What?”

“I’m surprised is all.”

“Why?”

“I thought you were popping in for the dress fitting and heading back to wherever you were needed next.” Her hanging out here for a whole month is practically unheard of.

According to Aiden, Catalina was a travel nurse long before they started dating, which was one of the reasons it took him a while to determine he liked her more as a friend than a girlfriend.

She rocks back on her sneakers. “Between all the costs of the holidays and the wedding, it made more sense to stay put and get a job here.”

I nod. “Got it. And how’s it going living with your parents again?”

“About as pleasant as appendicitis.”

“Pre- or post-op?”

“Is postmortem an option?”

I choke on a laugh. “Sounds wonderful.”

“Tell me about it. Did I mention my mom is your biggest hype woman?”

I hide my wince. At first, it was nice to be acknowledged by Mrs. Martinez, but there is such a thing as killing someone with kindness, and I’m practically suffocating from hers.

I rub the back of my neck. “I assumed she was a fan of mine.”

“Have you met someone who isn’t?”

Yeah. You.

I wasn’t born in Lake Wisteria, but I’ve lived here for the last year, so I’ve heard quite a bit about Catalina’s…personality. I’m not put off by it in the slightest though.

If anything, I find her constantly pushing people away to be entertaining, given who her mother and sister are.

She interrupts my thoughts by asking, “Which button do I press?”

“Bottom left.”

She tries again, but it doesn’t work.

“Here. Let me try.” I bang against the side of the machine, earning an amused huff from her.

“What?” I look down and find her smiling. It’s small, but my heart trips over itself for a moment.

She shakes her head. “Men.”

“That’s a sexist statement. Perhaps I should report you to HR for inappropriate workplace behavior.”

“I’m sure they’ll recognize your name when I place a complaint about you for checking out my ass.”

“I… You…”

Her head tilts.

“How did you even see me?” My question comes out as a hiss.

“I could feel it.”

“Hm.” I cross my arms, earning a quick look from her that leaves her cheeks a bit flushed.

She clears her throat and returns her attention to the machine. “I was just pointing out that your first solution was to bang on the machine, so you’re not doing your gender any favors here.”

Oh.

The machine’s menu screen glitches before prompting to pay again, earning a curse from Catalina. “It stole my money.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.” I’ve struggled with the same issue on a few occasions, which maintenance has yet to fix as well.

Before Catalina has a chance to tap her card against the machine, I pull mine out.

“What are you doing?” She reaches for my arm. Her fingers graze my bicep, sending a lick of heat over my skin.

The machine reads my chip with a beep.

“No!” Her nails dig into my skin.

“Should I add unsolicited groping to your report?”

She lets me go in a rush before glaring.

I tuck my card back in my wallet while the machine whirs to life. “Relax. It’s a cup of coffee. Not dinner and a movie.”

“Thank you.” She sighs as coffee starts filling the Styrofoam cup.

“Least I could do after what I said at lunch the other day.”

And just like that, her body language changes. It’s subtle, but obvious to anyone who cares enough to pay attention.

Catalina stares at the quarter-filled coffee cup, most likely willing the machine to go faster, but unfortunately, it always takes its sweet time. She even wraps her hand around the cup as if she plans on bolting the moment it lets out the final drop.

For some reason, I’m not ready for the conversation to come to an end. Now that I come to think of it, this might be the longest amount of time we’ve spent talking without her finding a way to escape the conversation, so maybe that’s why I don’t want her to run away.

“I’m sure your sister is happy you’re here,” I say to break the unbearable silence. I’m not the kind of person who enjoys them because it reminds me of too many days spent alone, wishing for someone to keep me company since my parents were too busy to do so themselves.

“Mm,” she replies, not giving me much to work with.

Little does she know, I was an only child who had three imaginary friends while growing up, so I know plenty about keeping a conversation going.

“I’m shocked to see you wearing something other than black,” I joke.

She turns to face me again, this time with a frown. She gives my outfit a bored once-over, although I catch her lingering on my arms for a little longer than necessary.

Okay. Clearly, she might dislike me as a person, but my body is a different story.

Catalina looks me in the eyes. “You’re one to talk when you’re dressed like the grim reaper.”

“There are way too many bodily fluids in an ER to be dressed in anything but navy or black.”

Her lips twitch, the edges threatening to curl at the corners, but she covers it up by clamping her mouth shut.

Getting that kind of rare reaction out of her makes me wish to do it again, but before I take advantage of the opportunity, she stuns me by speaking.

“Not going to lie. You seemed like the type of guy who would wear his white coat everywhere he goes.”

“I take personal offense to that statement.”

“Good,” she replies dryly, and I swear this girl makes me want to laugh without purposefully trying to.

“For your information, I prefer to keep my dry-cleaning bills down to a minimum.”

“Is this your casual way of telling me you’re broke?”

“I prefer the term fiscally conservative.” My comment earns the best kind of laugh.

My eyes widen. “Did you just…”

“No.”

“Whoa. I didn’t think your internal software was capable of such a sound. Are you malfunctioning? Is there a 1-800 number I can call to get you help?”

She tries to glare, but it lacks the usual punch, given her eyes are sparkling with amusement. “Are you always this⁠—”

“Charming?”

“Annoying. Seriously, it’s like three a.m. Can you just not be like this right now?”

“Three a.m.? The night is still young then.”

“Speak for yourself.” On cue, she yawns, and damn if I don’t find the way her face scrunches up to be cute.

Fuck. I think my best friend’s ex-girlfriend is cute? That can be problematic, but then again, he is about to marry her sister, so who is he to judge? Aiden might even be a bit relieved given the couple of worried conversations I’ve overheard him having with Gabriela about Catalina, although I’m not sure the woman standing in front of me would share the same sentiment.

The machine chirps behind her. She grabs the Styrofoam cup, and her eyes close as she takes a sip. Instantly, her nose twitches and her forehead wrinkles with distaste.

“Tastes like shit, doesn’t it?”

“God. That’s awful.” She coughs.

“Stick around long enough and you’ll get used to it.”

“Yeah, no. Not going to happen.” She stares at her cup like it is laced with poison.

Honestly, given the distinct aftertaste, it might very well be.

I toss my empty cup in the trash. “Trust me when I say this is the best machine in the whole place.”

“Really?”

“Yup. I’ve tested them all multiple times.”

“Have you thought to put in a maintenance request?”

“Yeah, but no one has done anything about it, so I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

Her mouth opens, but my phone buzzes with a new message before she has a chance to speak.

“I’ve gotta go,” I say with a hint of reluctance.

“See you around.” She lifts her cup. “And thanks for the shittiest coffee I’ve ever had.”

“I owe you a better one.”

She turns toward the direction of the NICU, but not before I see the small smile tugging at her lips.

Tonight, I didn’t only make Catalina Martinez laugh, but smile twice, and I’ll be damned because I’m already looking forward to when I can do it again.