Riley laughed. “When did it become magic mulled wine?”
Alex grinned back at her. “It’s Christmas. Everything’s always magical at Christmas.”
Riley laughed as she took her reserved seat over in the bar’s cozy corner. “I don’t know about the magic part, but I have missed Grandma Lola’s mulled wine and I’ve missed you.”
“I have missed you more, mi tesoro,” Alex said as he stirred the mulled wine simmering in a giant Crock-Pot on the counter.
Riley let herself close her eyes for a moment as she blissfully inhaled the familiar scent of cloves and cinnamon.
“I’ve dreamed of this,” Riley almost whispered in a soft voice. “I don’t get this back in Arizona.”
Alex nodded. “I always love making it for you. No one else appreciates my grandma’s recipe like you do.”
“Well, they don’t know what they are missing,” Riley said.
“That’s what I always tell them,” Alex said emphatically.
Riley laughed as she settled into her favorite spot. She loved leaning up against the brick wall and having full view of the entire bar.
She could still remember her first time coming into Café Lola on a cold winter night, her first night in New York City. It had been about this same time of year, just a few weeks before Christmas. She had flown in from her mom’s place in Florida and had arrived in the city with only a carry-on suitcase, a laptop, and a dream. Her dream was to finally be the author she’d always hoped to be.
The path she’d taken to come to New York had been kind of like Dorothy’s yellow brick road in The Wizard of Oz, filled with twists and turns and lots of drama.
She’d gone from working as an Emmy Award-winning TV news reporter and anchor, covering crime and corruption as an investigative reporter, to being a war correspondent in Iraq and Afghanistan, before doing a one-eighty and working as a freelance luxury travel writer, visiting some of the most glamorous places on the planet. The problem was her fabulous travel writer job didn’t even come close to paying her bills because she was basically only paid in free travel, nothing more. She had tried to make it work, living off her savings, but when her money ran out, luckily, her mom had let her move home while she figured out what to do next. It was during this incredibly challenging time that she’d landed her first book deal to write a romance novel.
Knowing this was her chance for a new start, she’d decided that if she was going to reinvent herself from a tough crime and war reporter to a romance author who wrote uplifting and heartfelt stories, then Manhattan was the perfect place to do it. There, she could be anyone she wanted to be. So she had taken her small book advance, sold her car, and moved to the city determined to write the kind of love stories that would hopefully help inspire readers to find their own happily-ever-afters.
She’d ended up at Café Lola her first night in town. After taking one look at her ridiculously tiny studio apartment, she’d grabbed her computer and charger and had quickly headed downstairs to the bar. She’d met Alex as she was looking for a place to plug in her computer, which had run out of battery during her flight. She must have looked freaked out because Alex had asked her if she was okay. That’s when she had babbled her life story and told him that she’d just moved to New York and didn’t know anyone, and how she was convinced her apartment was smaller than a jail cell.
Alex had found her the corner seat at the bar, the same one she was sitting in now, where there was an outlet. He’d also brought her some mulled wine, on the house, as he welcomed her to the city, and promised her that his grandma Lola’s secret recipe would warm her heart and that everything was going to be okay. That night had started their friendship and her tradition of using the cozy corner at Café Lola like her office. It was where she had written her first novel.
She was jarred back to the present when a steaming mug of mulled wine was put down in front of her. She looked up to see Alex’s smiling face.
“Here you go,” he said. “Just like you like it. With extra cinnamon.”
“Cinnamon is the wonder spice,” Riley said as she took the mug from Alex. When she got a closer look at the mug, she couldn’t help but laugh.
It was a Santa mug.
“Not you again,” she said to Santa’s smiling face.
Alex gave her a knowing look. “I know it’s your favorite mug, even though you pretend not to like it. You can’t fool me.”
Riley laughed loudly. “Oh, Alex. I really have missed you!”
“And I’ve never given up hope that you’ll find your Christmas spirit,” Alex said. He pointed at his heart. “It lives in here. It never goes away.”
Since she couldn’t remember what Christmas spirit felt like, she had no answer for him. Instead, she concentrated on her drink, waving the steam from her mulled wine toward her and inhaling blissfully.
“This smells like heaven.” Riley said as she carefully picked up her mug.
“It smells like Christmas,” Alex said proudly. “That’s what Grandma Lola used to always say.”
Riley took her first sip, and it didn’t disappoint. As always, it was the perfect blend of red wine, brandy, and spices like nutmeg, cinnamon, and cloves, which pulled it all together and made you feel all warm inside. Despite her asking year after year, Alex had refused to share his grandma’s secret recipe, insisting it could only be passed down to family members.
“This is delicious, as always,” she said as she held up her Santa mug to Alex. “Cheers to Grandma Lola.”
Alex quickly poured some mulled wine into another Santa mug and clinked it against hers. “Cheers to Grandma Lola and to Christmas.”
Riley laughed. “You never
