The first thing I see when I wake up is the pencil and its broken tip that has smeared lead all over my sheets. The second thing I spot is the blank scrap of paper next to it.

My room is bathed in early light and a fresh snowdrift rests on my outside windowsill, blocking half the view of our yard. It must have snowed another four inches last night. I get my texting out of the way early. I lie on my side, in bed, under a fur blanket, and bring my phone to my face.

I hammer away Merry Christmas to Jayden and Jules and Deja. I even send holiday emojis to Stella and Dani. They return it with three red wine emojis. Smh. Aunt Holly and Uncle Hank both text me, even though they will be here in less than an hour for Christmas brunch.

A coffee and fresh toast aroma drifts into my room and it makes my stomach grumble.

"Merry Christmas, darling." My mom plants a kiss on my cheek as I enter the kitchen.

"Happy Christmas morning!" My dad shouts from the foyer.

"Merry Christmas mom and dad," I tell them. "And something smells great."

"That'll be the French toast bake in the oven. I'm whipping up the mascarpone now," she says, standing over the mixer. The sweet aroma fills the entire kitchen when she flips it on.

I pour myself a large cup of coffee and sit at the breakfast bar where I have a grand view of the Christmas tree and the modest pile of presents beneath it. Then I see the other Christmas present –the one Preston gifted me last night.

At this point, I'm thinking nothing and everything is a sign from the Christmas gods. Maybe I should just choose myself and decline both Preston's and Nik's advances. Be the strong heroine that only exists in self-romance movies and indie books.

I believe in second chances and everything, but at the end of the day, well, Preston did dump me. And I believe in timing and chance meetings and sexy lumberjacks with hearts of gold, but at the end of the day –I do live in New York.

I scamper down the hallway with my hair in a messy bun, my mug of coffee in one hand and a spoonful of orange mascarpone in the other.

In the past, before my short-lived albeit fervent anti-Christmas campaign this season, I used to spend days preparing the perfect holiday outfit. My favorite Christmas sweater to lounge in with leggings. A maroon dress with major vintage vibes I wore to mass with Preston last year. This sequined jumpsuit that hugged me in all the right places at my Christmas work party. You get it.

I'm a bit lazy today, as everyone should be on Christmas morning. I brush out what's left of my curls from last night, until my hair is nice and beach-wavy. I pull on black leggings, but the nice thick-knit kind that are kind of more like pants, and a deep plum sweater. I finish my outfit with black boots before staring at myself in the mirror.

So, this is Christmas.

...

Aunt Holly and Uncle Hank arrive right on time. They bring specks of snow inside with them and the cold air lingers on their clothes as I hug them. I'm reminded of the dinner party my mom threw. I find myself turning to look at the door, wondering if a certain someone else is going to waltz through any minute.

We have our feast of a Christmas brunch and I revel in the mimosa. I start clearing the plates when my phone buzzes in my back pocket.

Incoming Call

Preston

I click it to voicemail. He doesn't leave one but quickly sends a text.

Merry Christmas my Noe :)

I smile at his old school emoticon and send a text back.

Merry Xmas to you! Can't talk @ brunch

I am carrying a plate of cookies and pizzelles to the coffee table when the doorbell rings and I hear my mom shout at me to answer.

I walk over to the door, platter in hand, wondering if it's Preston or Nik showing up to surprise me. I swing the door open and the first thing I see is Stella's glossy dark hair.

"Hi girly! Merry Christmas morning, Noe," Stella says, walking in and hugging me. She shakes the snow out of her coat's hood. "Frigging arctic out there."

"Merry Christmas to you, Stella Rae. What are you doing? Why aren't you home opening gifts?" I ask, stepping back.

"Please. Do you know what time it is? Logan was up ass crack of 6 AM, digging through his gifts," Stella groans, eyes rolling. I see she does seem extra tired thanks to the dark circles under her eyes.

"Why are you here?" I ask again, laughing.

"Had to drop this off," she says, holding up a brown bag. "It's your mom's homemade maple syrup from Bristowe's. Must have scooped it up last night when we all said goodbye."

"Ah, gotcha."

I carry it over to the bench in the foyer and Stella pulls me down to sit. I balance the cookie tray in my lap.

"So," she urges, eager.

"So?" I ask, blasé.

"Have you made any type of decision?" Stella hangs her head sideways.

"No. I just –It all seems so insane, you know?" I blurt out.

"Insane?" She questions. She bites into a chocolate chip anise pizzelle from my plate.

"Part of me, a slightly begrudging part, can't forget that Preston dumped me 10 days ago! He was ready to give up on our whole future, abandon it all," I admit.

"Mhmm," Stella nods in agreement. I can tell she's waiting on the edge of the weathered bench.

"And if he hadn't –dumped me –then I wouldn't have come home. Wouldn't have reconnected with you again! We definitely wouldn't be having this conversation–"

"—You wouldn't have met Nik," Stella finishes for me.

I nod in confirmation, swiping my hair over my shoulder. It's starting to get hot in my parents' foyer.

"It just makes me wonder if all this had a reason. Maybe. Sounds silly." I frown.

"Not silly at all, girl." Stella shakes her head.

"Then the other part of me thinks just 10 days ago I was praying and hoping for an engagement ring from this man, who is great and who I do love." I'm not talking myself into it, really. I do love Preston still; I'm just wondering if that's really enough.

"I get it, 100%. It's like, how can that much change in so little time." Stella nods.

"Exactly," I sigh right in the foyer, staring at the old window. Cool wind creeps in through the gaps between the glass and windowsill.

"Still waiting on a cosmic Christmas sign, huh?" Stella asks.

"I wouldn't say no to one."