Pam continued to deflect Jim’s obvious curiosity throughout their meal, mostly because she herself wasn’t exactly sure how to answer him. It was clear to her that her subconscious had been holding out on her, and that, in a sense, Roy had been right: there was a lot more going on with her and Jim than she’d let herself acknowledge. Apparently all it took was the slightest of permissions for her mind to move on entirely from planning a life with Roy to imagining one with Jim: like flowers blooming once the snow cover is gone, or the dots of an Impressionist painting springing into perfect clarity when you took a step back, the very idea of throwing Roy out had created the conditions for her feelings for Jim to become obvious to her. So obvious that it seemed ridiculous to actually put them into words, both because she felt so stupid about the last few months, maybe even years, and because it would be almost impossible to explain the suddenness of her mental transformation without sounding fickle or inconstant. She remembered high school English class, and how she and her fellow classmates had made fun of Shakespeare’s Romeo for pining after Rosalind in one scene and falling at Juliet’s feet the next. Now she realized how he must have felt, only more so. Jim wasn’t just her Juliet, he was her Mercutio, her Benvolio: her best friend as well as the person she suddenly found herself in love with. She looked down at the table. Was she really in love with him? Or was he simply a convenient rebound, an easy target for her to re-attribute the feelings she’d claimed to have for Roy for so many years?

In searching for the answer in the tabletop, she found it hovering just above, in Jim’s hands. Jim’s perfect, wonderful hands that, she realized, were attached to the fingers she’d painted on her easel that morning before she’d ever met up with him. There was her answer. It had been literally in front of her the whole time.

Before she could act on this resolution, her phone began to ring. She pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID. “Ugh, Roy,” she said without thinking, and she felt rather than saw Jim wince across from her. “Sorry, I have to take this.” She owed him that much, even if she was swimming on the realization that she loved Jim. She got up and wandered through the mostly empty diner to the front, where she camped out on in the waiting area, mentally girding her loins for the talk to come.

“Hello Roy.”

“Hi, Pammy! So, are you coming up, or what?”

The shock of it hit her harder than she’d expected. He didn’t remember. He thought they were still together. He was expecting her to come up to the Poconos.

“What, Roy, I…”

But of course, he didn’t let her finish. “Kenny said something crazy this morning about you not coming up, and I wanted to check in—you’re coming, right?”

“No, Roy, I…”

“Whatdya mean, no? Pammy, this whole trip was your idea. And now you’re seriously not even coming up here?”

He continued in this vein for a few moments, giving Pam some valuable time to think as she listened with half an ear. This was a very different side of Roy than the one she’d heard at 3am that morning, but in a lot of ways that helped: if even this version of Roy, the sober one that wanted her, couldn’t be bothered to let her have a word in edgewise and got mad at her without letting her talk…what was the point? Sure, she could forgive him again, go up to the Poconos like he expected, let his forgetfulness of what happened when he was drinking blot this morning out, but what would come of it? He’d just get drunk again, get forgetful again, get angry again. Better to hold firm to what she had said before; to stay New and Improved Pam and not old Pammy.

“Roy.”

“Roy.”

“Roy.”

The third time, it seemed to get through to him and he stopped talking long enough for her to say more than his name. “You called this morning already. I’m not coming up because you asked me not to come. And I told you that, since that was the case, you’d better stay with Kenny when you came back, because we’re through.”

“Yes, we’re through. It’s over.”

“Sure, you can have the truck, Roy.”

“Goodbye, Roy.”

And with that, it was over. Oh, not over, not really; they’d have to figure out the apartment and their bank accounts and everything, and that might take a little bit, but over in every sense that really mattered. She’d done it. Again. And this time when he was too awake, too sober to forget again. She hadn’t really paid attention to his anger when she’d told him, except for his vehement insistence that the truck was his and not hers—like she cared. The anger seemed very far away, and she was glad of it. Now she was free.

Free to be with Jim…who was sitting over there at a table, knowing only that she’d taken Roy’s call and left him.

Correction, who was no longer sitting at that table. Shit.

She ran out of the restaurant and caught up with him on the sidewalk.

“Jim!”

“What, Pam? Do you suddenly need me for something?”

Suddenly, inanely, she couldn’t find the words she wanted.

“How’s Roy, Pam?”

She stood before him in silence. He sighed and ran his hand through the back of his hair. “Pam, you can’t keep doing this to me.” Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. “Forget it.” He started to walk away, back into the restaurant, as if the only reason he’d left it was because she was in it.

“It’s over, Jim.”

He spun around. “What? Our ‘date’?” He put air-quotes around the words. “I’d say so. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Roy, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No. Me and Roy. It’s over.”

Now he was the one who couldn’t find the words, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish at feeding time. Did I look that silly before? Pam wondered. Probably, she decided, but that wasn’t the point.

“That was what the phone call was about.” She shrugged. “He’s pretty pissed.”

“At you?”

“Yeah. Probably at you, too, as soon as he thinks about it.”

“At me?”

“Yeah.” She smiled up at him. “I think he knew before I did. I mean, he’s been suspicious of you for years.”

He ran forward and grabbed her hand. “Hold that thought. There’s something I need to show you.”

She squeezed his hand. “Lead on.” He looked down at their joined hands and gave hers a squeeze. “Hold that thought too. You’re going to need to drive.”

They got into the car and Jim directed Pam down a series of turns that led, as she quickly realized, back to the Dunder Mifflin offices. “In here?” she asked. “But isn’t it locked up for the weekend? I thought only Dwight had a key.”

“Don’t worry.” He pulled the key out of his pants pocket with a flourish. “Before I left yesterday I took the liberty of liberating it from his desk drawer, while he and Michael were busy.”

She looked at him in confusion. “Did you know we would be coming back here?”

“We? No. But I knew I would.” He snapped his fingers. “That reminds me…you wouldn’t mind if we doubled up on my showing you this thing and us pranking Dwight, would you? It’s just, we came all this way…”

She grinned. “Absolutely I wouldn’t.”

“Excellent. Ah, here we are.” He opened the doors. “After you.”

“Why thank you, sir.”

He led her to his desk and opened one of the drawers, handing her a giant ball of tinsel. “Hold that.”

“…OK.”

He must have heard the hesitation in her voice because he laughed and patted her arm. “Don’t worry, that’s not what I brought you here for. That’s the prank.” He dug around in the drawer for a moment before withdrawing a small envelope. “Here. Trade you.” He took the tinsel and handed her the envelope. “I’m going to go get a stepladder while you read that.” He wandered off in the direction of the supply closet.

Pam looked down at the envelope in her hand. “Pam” was written on it in handwriting that was undeniably Jim’s. Curious, she opened it and read.

Dear Pam,

Merry Christmas! By now you’ve opened the teapot, and hopefully noticed the bonus gifts inside before you used it to make tea (if not: TAKE THE TEA OUT NOW. OK, crisis averted). But that’s not all I want to give you. I want to give you everything you could possibly want, Pam. I guess what I’m saying is this: Christmas is a time to tell people what they mean to you, and Pam? You mean everything to me.

I love you. I’m in love with you.

Merry Christmas,

Jim

She looked up through teary eyes to see Jim standing on a stepladder over by Dwight’s desk, stuffing the giant ball of tinsel into the ceiling tile, which he was in turn connecting to a length of fishing line tied to Dwight’s mouse cord.

“Jim!” He wobbled on the stepladder and she stepped over to steady it. “That card was with the teapot, wasn’t it?”

He tied the last knot, slid the ceiling tile in place, and nodded. “It was.”

“Why didn’t you give it to me then?”

“You chose the iPod.” He stepped off the ladder.

“And then I chose the teapot.” He shrugged, and she could see it on his face. By choosing the iPod, even once, she’d made him doubt she felt the same way. No, she’d made him realize she refused to feel the same way: that she was afraid of what was building between them. Even after she’d taken the teapot, she realized, she’d given him the same signal, talking about how Roy would get her an iPod. Stupid idea. She’d known it was a lie when she’d first heard it, and she’d let it come between them. No more. She stepped in closer to him. “And I choose you.”

Now kiss me, she thought as loudly as she could.

Fortunately, he heard her—or else his mind was thinking the same thing hers was. The kiss was amazing: everything she’d hoped it would be, everything she’d thought it might be whenever she’d found herself zoning out staring at Jim’s face from across the office. She wanted to indulge herself again, but before she did, there was one loose end she needed to tie up.

“What about Katy?”

“Hmm? Katy? I’ve been trying to break it off with her for weeks.” He sighed. “We haven’t even been on a date since the party at my house.”

“But she said you two talked about Christmas at your parents…”

Jim laughed. “You mean I told her I was busy this weekend.”

Pam slid her hands behind Jim’s back. “And are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Busy.”

“Does this mean you want me to cancel on my parents? Because I will make that phone call in a heartbeat.” He reached out for the phone on his desk.

“Don’t you dare!” Pam held him back with her embrace. “Jim, I’m not going to start this relationship off by disappointing your mother.”

“So we’re in a relationship now, are we?”

“Well…” she leaned back in his arms and looked up at him. “We are out on a date right now.”

“I suppose you’re right.” He bent down and kissed her. “So, a new idea: how would you like to come to the Halperts for Christmas?”

“And meet your mother on the fourth date?” She feigned shock, before melting into a grin. “Jim, I’d love to.”

“Fourth date?” He quirked an eyebrow down at her.

“Well, right now.”

“That’s one”

“And you’ve just invited me to your parents’ for Christmas.”

“That’s two.”

“And I was assuming we’d go out tomorrow too.”

“That’s three.”

She smiled up at him. “Oh, Halpert, what am I going to do with you? We already had our first date, right here.” She pointed up through the ceiling towards the roof. “Or more accurately, right there.”

“I suppose you’re right Beesly.”

“And what do I get for being right?”

“Anything you want.”

She looped her arms upwards and drew him down for another kiss. “One Jim Halpert, then, please.”

“I’m sorry, Beesly, I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“How can I give you what’s already yours?”

“Shut up, Halpert.”