A piece of paper. How could one small, torn piece of paper hold so much value? Nicole stared at it, committing the number to memory, before realising she needed to add it to her contacts list on her phone. She couldn't wait to tell Robin what had transpired on Christmas Eve.

Robin was one of her employees. A total of four worked in the store, if you included the lady who ran the café in the basement. Not something Nicole got involved in, food, catering in general not her speciality. Robin was her favourite. He had worked for her aunt, easy going, super intelligent like his partner, Jeremy, allowing Nicole to indulge in random conversations about the most obscure subjects. Both vied to be the geekiest, Jeremy rolling his eyes as the conversation descended into a Google play off.

They were having Christmas lunch at one o'clock. Drinks from noon onwards. A collection of misfits gathered together to celebrate the consumption of turkey, brussel sprouts optional. Presents to be exchanged after the meal. Nicole needed to catch up on everything she hadn't done while Waverly was in the store. Till cashed up, books replaced in orderly fashion, floors swept, she was done.

She wondered what Waverly was doing right now. Probably helping prepare Christmas lunch with her sister. It felt good having Waverly's number stored. She wanted to call. Not too soon, she counselled herself, she didn't want to appear too keen. God, she wanted to call her, hear her voice. That giggle. The towel she used still lying on her bed. Way to creepy she would be sleeping with it later. Not something she would reveal to Robin.

It was a short drive to Robin's flat. The snow was thawing on pavements, the roads already clear. There were no other cars as she made her way across town, everyone enjoying a day of over-eating and TV watching. Two bottles of wine accompanied her on the passenger seat. An overnight bag and presents in the boot. A few guests had arrived by the time Nicole pulled up outside. Robin greeted her at the door, the perfunctory kissing on both cheeks. Very French. Neither knowing why they did this every time they met. A habit no one could bring themselves to stop. Wine deposited in kitchen, compliments given on the smell of Jeremy's nut roast for those not partaking meat, she made her way into the lounge.

Robin introduced her. "This is Nicole. My boss. Trixie, Claire, Alastair and Joe."

A round of nods and hellos ensued. She was dying to tell Robin about her evening, waiting for the right opportunity. It came as he made his way back to the kitchen for champagne refills.

"I've met someone. I've actually met someone."

"Oh my God. Spill. Who?"

"The girl in the store. The one who sits in the big chair by the window, writing. The gorgeous, petite, green-eyed, long brown hair one."

"Not the girl who comes in every Saturday?"

"The very same. We slept together."

"Fuck me. You're quick. Hold on. When did you meet her?"

"Yesterday evening. She couldn't get a bus. Came back to the store."

"Oh, Nicole. Good girl. I mean, I never had you pegged as a one night stand sort of person, but way to go."

"Thanks. What? Sorry, no we didn't sleep together. We slept together, as in the same bed."

"That's usually how it happens. Bless."

"No, I mean she slept in the bed and I was next to her."

"I know. You keep saying."

"We had our clothes on.

"Kinky."

"Seriously. Nothing happened apart from we slept together."

"So, let me get this straight. You meet someone yesterday, invite her up to your flat, she stays the night, in the same bed as you, with her clothes on."

"Correct."

Robin shook his head. "So much to learn. So, so much to learn."

Jeremy appeared in the kitchen. "How are the sprouts doing?"

"Nicole slept with someone last night. Fully clothed."

"You know that's not how it's done."

Robin grinned. "We'll have to educate her on the facts of life."

"I swear, I don't know why I tell you half the things I tell you. Nothing happened. I wanted something to happen, but..."

Robin and Jeremy chimed in together. "You had your clothes on."

Nicole rolled her eyes, deciding it best to return to the lounge where her non-love life would be less ridiculed.

Crackers pulled, paper hats worn, copious amounts of wine consumed, an afternoon sat in front of the TV to look forward to. Nicole helped clear the plates. Robin followed her into the kitchen laden with dishes of vegetables.

"Listen, sorry if we pulled your leg earlier. I'm really pleased for you. Is she nice?"

"Too good for me. She's a writer. Storyteller. She's writing about me at the moment."

"Oh my God. You've got your very own stalker. Sorry, sorry. Seriously, she's basing one of her stories on you?"

"She did this really cool thing."

"With her clothes on?"

"Stop. Or, I won't tell you."

"Sorry. Carry on. Promise not to tease."

"She made me guess who it was she was writing about. She's watched me. I thought it was only me who did that. She knows things about me."

"Do you have her number?"

"I don't know when to ring her?"

"How about now. You can go in the bedroom. Say hi. Ask if she's had a good Christmas."

"I can't. I mean I only just saw her a few hours ago."

"OK. So, how long had you been meaning to ask this girl out?"

"Three months."

"And, how long are you planning to leave it till you call her."

"Three months."

"Nicole. Ring her. What's the worst that could happen?"

Robin had a point. She would call.

She closed the bedroom door behind her. Phone in hand, Waverly's number poised to ring. She really wanted to. One press. Do it, do it, she urged herself. She placed her finger on the call symbol. The phone rang. Should she hang up? No, that would look odd. One missed call from an unknown number. She continued to let it ring. A woman's voice answered.

"Hi, who's this?"

"Nicole. Nicole Haught. The book seller. The person in the book store."

"Hi, Nicole Haught. Did you want Waverly?"

"Yes, if she's there. Who's this?"

"Wynonna. She's with Alice. I can get her."

"No. It's fine. Just checking she's OK."

"I'll tell her you called."

"Thanks. Merry Christmas."

Nicole hung up. Waverly was with Alice, whoever Alice was. Crestfallen she returned to the lounge, the look on her face telling Robin things hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped. He looked over, his eyes attempting to ask what had happened.

"She's with Alice."

"Oh, Nicole. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made you make that call. Listen, you had a great time with her. You never know."

Nicole nodded. She wanted to leave, return to her empty bookstore, down the remaining whiskey. She'd promised Robin and Jeremy she'd stay over, play Monopoly, keep them company. The other guests departed, the three sat side by side on the couch, Die Hard the Christmas movie lined up to play next. She had been quiet for most of the afternoon. Robin offered her an After Eight mint, she declined.

She heard her phone ringing in the bedroom. Probably her mother realising it was Christmas. She hadn't seen her in three years. Her father's death had changed her. She was finally free and intended to make the most of that freedom. Nicole was glad she was doing things she had never been able to when married, but worried her step-father was merely using her money to have a good time.

It was Waverly. She answered. Waverly was in a good mood. She asked how Nicole's Christmas had been. Thanked her again for letting her stay over, making her breakfast, being the perfect host.

"Who's Alice?"

"Alice. She's my niece. Why?"

"Your sister said you were with Alice. I wasn't sure."

"That's Wynonna for you. Never a straight answer, when a crooked one will do."

"I wasn't. I didn't think you and..."

"Oh, right. No, I'm not with anyone. Is that what you're asking?"

"No. I mean. I just assumed someone like you would be."

"Like me?"

Nicole was glad they weren't on Facetime. "You know."

"No. Tell me."

"Attractive."

"You think I'm attractive?"

"Yes. Is that OK?"

"Finding me attractive. Of course. More than you can ever imagine. So, any skeletons in your closet?"

"I'm married."

The silence at the other end of the phone told Nicole this new piece of information had caught Waverly off-guard.

"Married. Right. Shame."

"Was. Separated. Haven't seen Shae in over a year."

"Nice name. How long were you together?"

"Two years."

Another pause. "Do you fancy a drink tomorrow?"

"Yes. Are you OK with me being separated?"

"I'm sorry it didn't work out."

"It's OK. Wasn't meant to be. I can pick you up?"

"I'll text you the address. Her loss."

Nicole sat looking at her phone. Christmas was turning into an emotional rollercoaster.

Elation, depression, back to elation.

She needed a drink.