Page 24 of Love Letters to Christmas

It’s your favorite mailroom guy, Brian! And he would never, ever, do anything wrong.

Brian

“Morale is at an all-time high, I can confirm.” I beam, innocently, at my boss while he peers at me through the computer in my office, which has been conveniently left void of decorations directly behind my camera. “Productivity is also at an all-time high.”

“Is it now?” Liam asks, narrowing his eyes in a way I hope is normal and not accusatory.

I cut my attention to my other screen, where I have a check box hanging out right beside the task Call Liam . It’s gonna be so dopamine-inducing to mark it off my list. Nodding, I say, “I’ve created a system that promotes unity and achievement in return for reward.”

“There are several thousand-dollar charges on the card I left you. Already.”

I nod some more. “Those are the rewards. I assure you, I’ve had Will run the numbers, and there’s a substantial increase in productivity, which has led to income that more than covers the positive-reinforcement.”

Liam grunts. “Huh. I did intend for you to focus on keeping spirits up, not productivity, but if you’ve found a way to incorporate both, I’ll not argue with it.” Rubbing an eye, he yawns.

Not arguing is good. Love not arguing with happiness. Especially when the happiness in question is mine. “How late is it over there, boss?”

“One thirty-two,” he mumbles. “I still have paperwork to go through.”

Yikes. I do not envy him. “Well, if there are no other questions, I’ll let you get back to that, and I’ll get back to my Mail-ia.”

“How are things going with Amelia?” he asks. Another question.

My disappointment is immeasurable.

I reply, “Her work is excellent. She is an enthusiastic servant of the mailroom, and I could not ask for a better coworker.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

I blink. “You are not interested in hearing accolades of her work-related efficiency and passion as it relates to your thriving business?”

“No. You don’t hire anyone unless they pass your arduous tests, and then you quietly let people who don’t live up to your expectations go with a viciousness that borders on evil.

I think the last time you had any help was in February, purely for the sake of Valentine’s.

If Amelia’s still on staff, she’s doing an exemplary job.

” Liam steeples his fingers. “I am invested in your relationship.”

My head tilts. “Why?”

“Because. It’s similar to mine and Amber’s.”

In…what way? The childhood friend part? I think Liam and Amber were actual friends. Amelia and I pretty much only went to the same school.

Liam says, “I’d like to know what an appropriate timeline would have been for us to get married without a contract. Please consider yourselves my AU.”

Amelia and I are not a Liam and Amber alternate universe by any means. Also, by contract does he not mean without coercion ? “Amelia and I aren’t getting married anytime soon. Unlike you, we’re to have a proper wedding, with lots of invitations.”

“So you are planning to get married already?”

My mouth opens as what I just said catches up with what my boss has. Am I already planning to marry Amelia?

It is possible I’ve considered how she’ll hand out white wax-sealed envelopes to dozens of people, thus blessing some who won’t even appreciate her handiwork with an Amelia Original while I’ve only had one true Amelia Original on a letter addressed to not even me .

It is possible this knowledge bugs me .

It is possible…I am planning to get married.

Huh.

I should have signed my last letter to her Best husband in training .

Clearing my throat, I say, “She doesn’t know that yet.”

Liam, unbothered, nods. “He falls first. A beloved trope. Very acceptable.”

Somehow, also no.

To think this guy’s wife says I’m the odd egg.

“I hope things continue to go well,” Liam says, stifling a yawn. “I should probably get back to my paperwork now.”

“I hope you’re able to get some rest tonight.”

His head tilts forward in a sleepy little nod, and after a final goodbye, we end the call.

Blowing out a breath, I sag in my office chair and peer out the glass walls toward the desk Amelia claimed for herself. It’s vacant here right now, without her. My quiet kingdom. The heart and soul of Whirlwind Branding’s HQ. Missing a beat. A pulse.

Like Liam said, it’s basically how it’s been most of the time I’ve been here since good help is hard to find. The silence shouldn’t feel as empty as it does right now. I should be used to it.

But I’m not used to it anymore.

Because my new normal contains her .

“Marriage, huh?” I whisper into the stillness.

Mr. Brian Christmas.

Mrs. Amelia Single.

My nose wrinkles.

No, definitely we’re keeping the Christmas .

Brianna can carry on the Single name. That is, after all, why I left.

Brianna loved mail and Bandera. I loved the people, but after moving here to Iferous, I’m not sure Bandera ever felt completely right.

There was never quite enough going on in that small town to satiate my desire for novelty.

I crave movement. Newness. Extravagance.

Things that seem diametrically in opposition to settling down .

Moreover, Amelia is…soft. Serene. Familiar.

She’s willing to participate in my antics without question—like how she happily adapted to wearing Liam’s Santa costume instead of the elf one even though a fake beard seems arguably more embarrassing—but she doesn’t spearhead them.

She is absolutely wife material. She should not be my wife material.

And…yet…

Eyes remaining fixed on her desk, I settle my chin in my hands. “My wife, Amelia Christmas.” Everything about that makes me happy. Everything about the idea of taking care of her makes me happy, even though I know she’s going to respond to it as though I’m torturing her.

That part does not necessarily make me unhappy , either.

I think… I think I might be a bit of a bully.

I am looking forward to these next few weeks more than is entirely reassuring.

At least, with any luck, by the end of them Amelia will understand I’m not some paragon…and maybe, just maybe, she’ll still like me anyway.

Standing, I release a breath and see myself out of my office and to my Amelia’s desk.

I let my fingers graze the back of her seat, then I place my hand at my heart and present the empty chair.

“Oh? Yes. This is my wife , Amelia Christmas. I call her A-mail-ia. Though, if you do that, I’ll stab you with a letter opener.

” My lips quirk. “Hm? What’s that? You need my wife ?

She’s not here right now, but I can take a message and let you know if I think it’s worthy of her precious time.

” I pull out her chair and bow. “After you, my wife.”

Heh.

Yeah, that’s the good stuff.

Pushing her chair back in with my hip, I tuck my hands in my pockets and start toward the elevator, so I can head home to my wife, Amelia Christmas.