"A Christmas Romance: The E-Mails" | Christmas Tales

An e-mail exchange is what transpired after Niccolò Machiavelli sent me, Mia, a Christmas present.
 
…..
 
Niccolò:
 
Dearest Mia,
Season’s Greetings
I, too, have been admiring you from afar.
Do you have time for dinner and attend a performance of The Nutcracker ballet this Saturday, December 11th?
I look forward to your reply.
Yours,
Niccolò
 
…..
 
Mia:
 
Mr. Machiavelli,
I will be delighted to accompany you to dinner and the ballet.
Fondly,
Mia
 
…..
 
Niccolò:
 
Mia,
Please call me Niccolò.
I will pick you up at your home at 6:00 PM. We will have dinner first and then the ballet.
Sincerely,
Niccolò
 
…..
 
Mia:
 
Niccolò,
Great! I look forward to our night out.
Be sure to call or text me when you are in front of my building so that I can buzz you in.
My cell number is 202-555-5555.
I will be waiting to hear from you.
Thank you.
Mia
 
…..
 
Niccolò:
 
Mia,
Thank you for providing your cell number.
My iPhone number is 301-555-5555.
Please call or text me anytime.
See you soon.
Niccolò
 
…..
 
Setting the Scene: 
 
After learning that Niccolò Machiavelli himself would be coming to pick me up for a date, I wasted no time, I rushed out to buy mistletoe! I swear, the moment he steps into my apartment, his eyes will see it.
 
My heart is fluttering like it has been waiting for this moment all season, with a thrill of anticipation.
 
This is the first time a man has ever given me a gift, taken me to dinner, and treated me to a ballet.
 
The anticipation feels magical, almost unreal. He deserves both a naughty and a nice thank‑you kiss, and I fully intend to deliver it with holiday sparkle.
 
…..
 
As I hung the mistletoe above the doorway, I caught myself laughing at the absurdity of it all. But why not have some fun with it!
 
…..
 
Niccolò Machiavelli, the strategist of strategists, was about to walk into my little apartment in Washington, D.C. I wondered what he would think of my decorations: the twinkling lights, the scented pine candle, the tiny ceramic reindeer perched on my bookshelf.
 
Would he analyze them the way he analyzed U.S. ambassadors and politics, or would he simply smile and take it all in?
 
…..
 
I kept rehearsing what I might say when he arrived.
Should I greet him with elegance, like a woman with red‑carpet poise?
 
Or should I be my usual self, warm, witty, and slightly chaotic?
 
The truth is, I wanted him to see me exactly as I am. After all, he had already surprised me with a Christmas gift, a gesture so thoughtful it softened something in me I didn’t realize had grown guarded.
 
I checked the clock again. Only a few days until December 11th.
 
My heart would flutter at the thought of hearing his knock, of seeing him standing there with that confident, knowing expression.
 
Whatever happens next, I knew one thing: this holiday season was about to become unforgettable.
 
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(Copyright © 2025 by Mia Z. Edwards. All rights reserved.)