Page 12 of Holly Jolly Christmas

My chest tightened in a way that was half-panic, half-hope, and entirely overwhelming.

By one a.m., I was back in my office, reorganizing browser tabs I’d already organized twice.

By two, I’d opened a blank document and started listing conversation strategies like I was prepping for a product launch:

Ask about her favorite Christmas movie

Ask about floral arch mechanics? (No, too odd)

Compliment her work (but don’t make it sound like a Yelp review)

Tell her she made your house feel brighter (too romantic?)

Don’t run away mid-sentence

Make eye contact for more than five seconds

Try smiling. Like, a normal amount (not the serial killer kind)

I glared at the list, my voice flat as I read the last item aloud. “Try smiling. Like a normal amount. Not the serial killer kind.”

Jesus Christ.

I deleted it. Then immediately re-created it and added:

Bring something (NOT flowers—coffee?)