An oblivious friend slurred from the side, "Audrey, you don't know, but Nora is allergic to fish."

"Oh, really?" Audrey replied in a flat tone.

After several rounds, everyone was tipsy. One flushed guy declared, "Ted, we all bet you'd stay single until 30. Didn't expect you to find the one so soon."

Another grinned foolishly. "Yeah, we thought you and Nora were so close that you'd end up together."

Audrey's face clouded over, but Ted laughed it off. "Us? Nah, we're just best buds. That's hilarious."

He cackled as if it were the punchline of a great joke. His friends piled on. "Pure platonic vibes all the way, ha!"

I joined in the laughter. "Ted and I? That would be absurd."

Ted came over, slinging an arm around my shoulders. He was plastered, his cheeks rosy and his eyes watery. Tilting his head, he asked, "You don't actually like me, do you?"

I searched his eyes for something, but there was nothing. To him, we were truly just friends.

I forced a grin. "As if."

"Good." He nodded, shaking my shoulder. "We're best pals forever."

Despite all the booze, I'd never felt so clear-headed. I echoed softly, "Best pals."

...

The next morning, I booked a direct flight home.

Before boarding, I took one last peek at my phone. Ted had posted a new update—a photo of him and Audrey, their hands laced together. No captions were needed.

It was an official announcement, flooded with congratulations from their friends. I stared for a moment, then yanked out the SIM card and tossed it into the trash.

Returning home proved smoother than I'd imagined. My parents picked me up at the airport, and with the holidays approaching, the streets were alive with twinkling lights, wreaths, and Bing Crosby crooning White Christmas.

It lacked Eldonfield's glitz, but the lingering scent of fireworks grounded me in a comforting way.

My mom was thrilled since I'd skipped three Christmases at home to spend them with Ted.

But her joy lasted only briefly before she slipped into nagging. "You're almost 30 now. When are you going to settle down? Our neighbor's daughter is a year younger, and her kid's already toddling around, all chubby and adorable. Even my younger coworkers are going on blind dates. Oh, and the guy next door is handsome. I'll introduce you."

She snuck glances at my expression while talking because I'd always hated blind dates.

My eyes had been fixated on Ted, leaving no room for anyone else. After our drunken slip-up blurred our boundaries, my focus had narrowed even further to him alone.

Alice's talk of marriage had always irritated me. But now, as I gazed at the whirling confetti from firecrackers outside the window, exhaustion washed over me.

Settling down didn't sound so bad after all.

"Okay," I replied.

"Don't fight it," Alice pressed on. "I know you like that Wiley boy, but... wait, what?"

My eyelashes drooped. "I said okay. Introduce us."

After dinner, my old app rang with a call from Ted. I'd switched to a new number, sharing it with only a couple of close friends, but I still logged into the old one occasionally to tie up loose ends before deleting it.

He sounded casual, as if nothing had happened. "Why is your phone not connecting?"

Before I could answer, he continued, "Anyway, I've got the holiday prep all sorted. Anything else you want? I'll have my assistant grab it."

His words triggered a memory: the year Mamie died. I'd gone home, but on Christmas Eve, I video-called him to wish him happy holidays.

It took ages for him to answer; the screen was dark at first, showing only a fading ember from his cigarette.

"Yeah?" he rasped.

As the screen adjusted to the light, I saw he was alone on the balcony, surrounded by scattered bottles and cigarette butts. Outside, the world was alive with lights and fireworks, but that joy seemed worlds away from him.

He sat there in the shadows, smoking in isolation, and my heart broke for him.

I smiled through it. "Merry Christmas early! Got a gift for me?"

He chuckled, and a transfer notification pinged on my phone. He had just sent me 100 thousand dollars, which blew my mind.

After a long pause, he murmured, "Nora, come back soon. I'm really..."

The wind scattered his words; I couldn't make out if it was "lonely" or "missing you".

Worried about him, I faked a work emergency and booked the next flight back to Eldonfield.

At 3 a.m., the city still pulsed with life, but Ted's place was pitch black. I banged on the door, breathless. "Ted, open up!"

I thought he was asleep, but he answered quickly, staring at me in stunned silence. "Y-You're back?"

I beamed. "I'm here to keep you company for the holidays."

He gaped, and as the awkwardness built, he suddenly pulled me into a crushing hug, as if trying to fuse us.

From then on, I'd always spend the holidays with him before heading home. It became our unspoken ritual. Yet this year, with Audrey by his side, I hadn't expected him to reach out.

I glanced out the window. "I'm already home."

Ted paused, caught off guard. After a moment, he hummed, trying to sound natural, "Oh, makes sense. It's been years since you spent the holidays with your family."

"Yep." I clutched my phone.

Silence stretched across the line, broken faintly by Audrey's voice in the background. "Ted, a little help here. The hot water is acting up."

"Coming," Ted replied.

"Gotta go," I said, my lips tightening.

"Yeah," he said flatly.

I hung up, and the screen dimmed.

I'd expected insomnia, but instead, I crashed hard. At 2 a.m., thirst woke me—the dry northern winter air was something I wasn't yet readjusted to after my long absence.

Heading downstairs for water, I was about to go back up when I heard faint rustling from the bathroom.

"A burglar!" My body tensed, my hair standing on end.

My heart pounding, I held my breath and tiptoed toward the stairs for my phone. But as I passed the bathroom, the door flew open.

In a panic, I grabbed a nearby umbrella and swung it wildly. He caught it, yanking me close and clamping a hand over my mouth.

That was when I realized the intruder was shirtless. My tank-exposed back pressed against his warm, verbena-scented chest, still damp from steam.

This guy was breaking in, not even dressed. Terrified he'd suffocate me, I bit down hard on his arm and thrashed wildly.

But he was too strong, holding firm. When I couldn't break free, I dissolved into tears, afraid he'd kill me first and then my parents.

Sobbing into his hand, I pleaded tremulously, "Mercy! My dad's cash is in the window cabinet—maybe two grand. If that's not enough, I can Venmo more, but I only have a few grand left. Take it and go; we'll pretend this never happened. I'm young. I haven't even been in love and haven't married. I don't want to die, please..."

A soft laugh escaped him, and then the living room lights flicked on.

Blinking against the brightness, I saw a young man standing before me, shirtless, with droplets tracing his toned abs down to his waist before pooling on the floor.

He stood at least 6'2", making me feel tiny in comparison.

My tone turned complex as I said, "Buddy, with a face like yours, you could make 30 to 50 grand a night in the city. Why resort to burgling us? We're broke."

His cherry-tinted lips curved into a faint arc, and I noticed his voice was melodic. "You are Alice's daughter, right? I'm the renter next door. My heater broke, so she let me use your shower. Sorry for the scare."

It clicked after a beat. Alice had mentioned the rental on the drive home.

We'd bought the adjacent beach cottages years ago; though cheap in our small town, they offered stunning ocean views from the balconies. With tourism growing, renters had started appearing.

Blushing furiously, I wished the ground would open and swallow me. "Sorry, I..."

He waved it off. "My bad. I got spooked too. Ow!"

On his arm was a bite mark, already starting to bleed. Overcome with guilt, I said, "Let me grab some iodine to clean that."