Free A Fairytale Christmas by Susan Wiggs

peachy
.
    “It’s late,” she said, sounding the very soul of sane rationality. “I have to go.”
    “But—”
    She snatched her coat. “Coming here with you was a mistake. It should never have happened. Goodbye, Jack.”
    Shoving her arms into her coat, she fled down the stairs and out the door. He came after her, calling her name, but she ignored him. She bolted into her car, stabbed the key into the ignition and roared off, the rear end fishtailing on the snow-covered pavement.
    Just once, she allowed herself to glance into the rearview mirror. He was standing on the sidewalk, a tall, lanky silhouette backlit by the snow-hazed streetlight and a string of colored lights in Mr. Costello’s window. For some reason, the image made the tears flow again. She promised herself it would be the last time she would ever weep for Jack Riley.

Chapter Nine
    T he next day, Jack took the subway in to the paper. The mindless clack and sway of the train, the blank looks on the commuters’ faces and the bovine flow of foot traffic in the underground passageways suited his mood.
    Now and then he encountered the annoyance of carolers and shoppers reminding him it was Christmas Eve, but he managed to ignore them.
    On the way in to the city, he tried to prepare for his encounter with Madeleine. All his life he had worked with words, composing and shaping them into units of meaning. But today, the skill eluded him.
    There were simply no words to explain to Madeleine why he’d done what he had. There was no way for him to explain to
himself
what had happened in that moment last night, when she had looked up at him and said, “I might cry.”
    That was the moment when he knew, finally and irrevocably, that he had fallen in love with her.
    “Nice timing, Riley,” he muttered under his breath as he scaled a small mountain of freshly plowed snow. “Just perfect.”
    He entered the building and jabbed his finger at theelevator button. When he reached the city room, he didn’t even pause at his desk, but went straight to Madeleine’s office.
    She looked up, serene as a Zen icon, when he stepped into the room. Damn, she was beautiful. Unruffled.
    Jack felt encouraged. Perhaps she was, after all, unhurt. Maybe she viewed it as a game, a lark, a joke. Slumming with the hired help. Maybe she would see the humor in the situation.
    Maybe the moon would fall out of the sky.
    “Er, Madeleine …” His voice trailed off. His vocabulary had dwindled to a series of Cro-Magnon grunts. Until now, he hadn’t realized that true love caused brain damage.
    She indicated an open folder on her desk. “Your personnel file,” she explained. “To your credit, you did stick as close as you could to the truth. Your real name is John—John Patrick Riley. You didn’t lie about being from Texas….” She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide and devoid of accusation. “Tell me, did you plan it all out weeks in advance, or was it sort of a spur-of-the-moment practical joke?”
    “Aw, come on, Madeleine, you’re acting like I set out to hurt—”
    “Or maybe there’s another motive,” she went on calmly, as if she hadn’t heard him. “You know, maybe the guys in the city room had some sort of standing bet. Free Knicks tickets to the first one who can get the boss in the sack—”
    “Jesus, Madeleine,” he said sharply, closing the office door behind him with a
thwack
.
    She blinked at the noise but didn’t flinch. She was scary this way; cool and soulless and eerily calm. A stranger.
    Then he noticed two things that betrayed her perfect facade. The fingernails on one hand had all been bitten off. And if he wasn’t mistaken, her blouse was buttoned wrong.
    Oh, God, Madeleine. I’m so sorry
.
    “Look,” he said, “I never meant for it to go so far.”
    I never meant to fall in love with you
.
    She gave him a tight, controlled smile. “Who said I minded? Maybe it was what
I
wanted.”
    That stunned him. Had she known all along? Gone along