Chapter 36
Caleb
Lauren’s cheeks are redder than Rudolph’s nose when she comes back, carrying two steaming mugs in her hands, a bag dangling from the crease of her elbow.
Something stirs in my chest. The way she’s smiling at me, like seeing me brightens her day, it sends a golden ray of light through my veins, warming me from inside. My heart flutters as she sets both mugs down on our table, letting out a relieved sigh that she didn’t spill any of it.
“Kieran sent some punch,” she declares with a wide grin. “And I’m afraid you’ll have to drive me home, and,” she gasps dramatically, “spend the night, because he made me take a shot with him. Which is also why I got you punch and me a mulled wine. I hope that’s fine?”
“This could be warm water and I’d be happy about it,” I admit and lift the small mug, blowing on the liquid before taking a careful sip. “Oh, that’s surprisingly good.”
“Is it? I haven’t tried it yet.” She sets down the paper bag and makes grabby hands for my mug, taking a sip herself. “Oh, wow.” Her eyes widen and jump to me. “This is amazing.”
The taste is an explosion of fruit and winter spices. If I had to guess, I’d say there’s grape juice in there. Possibly orange juice too.
“I think I taste cinnamon in this.” She takes another sip before she hands the mug back to me. “I need this recipe.” Lauren declares and reaches for her mug.
“So? What do you think of your very first Wayward Hollow Christmas market?”
When she looks at me, her eyes sparkle with excitement, and she reaches for the paper bag she got.
“I love it! It’s so cute. Maybe even cuter than the autumn fair!
All this holiday cheer got me right in the mood to block my parents and focus on enjoying Christmas, and frankly life, without having their disappointment hovering in my periphery. ”
“Wait. You did what?”
“Blocked my parents.” She grins proudly.
“Well done.” I lean down and steal a quick kiss. “And you feel okay about that?”
“Oh, I’m elated!” Her eyes positively sparkle with relief. “And check this out!” She pulls the bag open and lets me take a peek inside. “Andrea gave me a candle. We need to set some cookies aside for her.”
“That’s pretty,” I say and nod softly. This conversation is giving me whiplash. But if she says she’s okay with cutting off her parents, I won’t pry. At least until she gives me a reason to doubt it.
Instead, I stare at the contents of the paper bag. I’m not exactly a candle guy, but it sure looks like it was a lot of work. “When are you going to burn it?”
“I can’t burn it,” she says outraged, as if I proposed throwing it away. “It’s way too pretty to burn.”
“It’s a candle.”
She shakes her head. “This is much more than that. It’s a sign that Wayward Hollow has accepted me as one of its own, represented by Andrea. I must keep this offering intact and sacred forever.”
“Alright, alright.” I chuckle, lifting my arm. Immediately she slips under it and hugs me.
“Ugh, I’m freezing,” she complains and shakes her head. “All that suffering and we’re not even going to win this thing. At least Nic won’t either.”
“What makes you say that?” I glance at her, surprised. Just this morning she tried to convince me we’d take the imaginary trophy home and was already brainstorming themes the Christmas market could have next year.
“Because Kieran-” She narrows her eyes. “That sneaky little bastard is wearing a sexy Santa costume and having people do shots with him.”
Lauren ends the hug and reaches for her hot wine.
“If it weren’t so genius, I’d be really fucking pissed.
I’m ninety-five percent sure he’s going to have the worst cold ever from tomorrow on, though.
” She shakes her head. “If he wins, it’s at a sacrifice, and I can respect that commitment to sticking it to Nic and me. ”
“A sexy Santa costume?” I ask for clarification. That already sounds cold as fuck.
“Oh yeah. Tight red pants that leave nothing to the imagination and a red coat that’s barely buttoned, nothing underneath but his tattoos. The women were eating it up with more drool than gray jogging pants can elicit, I tell you.”
“Damn. I didn’t think he’d go all out for this.”
“Neither did I.” She blows on her wine before taking another sip. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell us.”
If it weren’t for a half-naked Santa, I reckon we would have had a decent chance. While Lauren was away, quite a lot of people stopped to check out the gingerbread hearts, undeterred by my resting murder face.
Lauren slides her arm around me again, and we watch the crowd get scarcer. The cold creeps beneath my thick winter jacket and past my thick wool socks.
“Around two-thirds of our total gingerbread stash is gone.” I mutter, watching a child climb up one of the snow piles. “I’m sure tomorrow we’ll sell the rest of it.”
“Thank God,” she mumbles. “I already saw myself munching on gingerbread until Easter.”
The last box with our leftover gingerbread is packed, and I put my hands on my hips, rotating my torso, trying to stretch. But my limbs don’t quite move the way I want to. I’m completely stiff thanks to the coldness.
Damn. Standing in the same spot for hours isn’t great for my back, much less in the middle of winter.
I lean back and look up at the dark sky. The occasional scarce snowflake dances through the air, settling on my jacket before melting within seconds.
Someone is watching me. I can feel it. There’s an unmistakable tingle in my stomach, and I sense eyes drilling into the side of my head.
When I get back up, I follow the sensation, and my eyes fall on my mother.
She’s standing by the gazebo, leaning against one of the beams, surrounded by an aura of sadness.
“You should go talk to her,” Lauren says softly and squeezes my hand. “They’re leaving soon, aren’t they?”
“Right,” I agree and clear my throat, trying to dissolve the knot of emotion lodging in my esophagus.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Lauren asks, but I shake my head.
“No, I can do it… but—” I take a slow breath, as deep as my lungs allow. “Wait here for me? Please?”
“Of course. I’m not going anywhere,” she promises, giving my hand another reassuring squeeze before letting go.
The knot in my throat thickens, and the air pierces my lungs like a thousand tiny needles.
Breathe, Caleb. Count to ten.
Thoughts tumble through my head faster than a rollercoaster with each step I take towards the gazebo.
Mom waits for me, hope flickering in her eyes.
Yet her shoulders are tight, raised up to her ears, and her gaze darts around, as though she’s searching for the quickest escape path.
And I get it. I wish I could escape this conversation. However, it is long overdue.
I come to a stop in front of her. We stare at each other, the tension heavy in the air.
“So…” I mumble before changing my mind, but I don’t even find the words to continue.
“We’ll be leaving tomorrow,” she whispers, staring at the ground. “Before we do, I wanted to say again, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be pushy or force you into an answer. I just—” She lets the end of her sentence hang in the air.
“It’s okay,” I say, watching the snow on the ground as I draw a circle in it with the tip of my shoe.
“I can’t give you an answer,” I admit. Her eyes jump to mine, tears welling up, and I quickly add, “Not yet. You’ve destroyed a lot, and apparently, I’ve kept it together with painter’s tape instead of welding it back together. I need more time.”
“This is a lot, I know,” she says softly. Her fingers twitch, as if she’s stopping herself from reaching for me.
“My therapist is on vacation until the new year.” She stands completely still, seemingly forgetting to breathe. “And I need some guidance on this.” I point between the two of us. “If I let you back in, I need to do it properly and not storm ahead too early.”
“And this therapist has helped you before?” she asks, her voice breaking. I nod. “Good. I’m glad.” She swallows her emotions and quickly wipes a tear from her cheek.
“Yeah, I had a lot to work through.” I clear my throat.
“Can we stay in touch?” she asks, and I swallow hard.
Such an easy question at first glance. But it feels too early.
“Dawn has my number. Once I’m ready, I’m sure she’ll connect us,” I tell her. “That’s the best I can do right now.”
“It’s more than I could have hoped for.” Her face slowly lights up.
“I’d really like to hug you,” she breathes out.
Damn, the way her voice breaks goes straight through my heart.
Without a word, I step closer, and she opens her arms. And for the first time in two and a half decades, I step into a hug from my mom.
It feels familiar. Yet so strange. She smells exactly the way I remember her, of her coconut shampoo and the slightest hint of vanilla. Her hand rubs circles over my shoulder, the exact same way she used to when I was little.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice heavy with emotion.
The knot in my throat tightens, and my eyes sting with unshed tears. I quickly blink them away. Breaking the hug might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
“Thank you for coming here,” I say truthfully and take a step back. We stare at each other, emotions heavy, our eyes speaking without another word.
“Have a good Christmas, Caleb,” Mom whispers with a small smile on her lips.
“You too,” I reply. “Merry Christmas.”
I turn around and walk back to our booth. Lauren is waiting for me, worry tightening her expression.
“How did it go?”
“As well as it could have.”
I slide my fingers between hers, lift her hand to my mouth, and press a kiss against her glove.
“Are you still okay to stay over tonight? Or do you need some time to decompress? I can ask Kieran for a ride if I need to.”
Before the question even fully registers, I find myself nodding vigorously. My stomach is bubbling with emotions that can’t quite decide what they want to be: sad, happy, hopeful, or scared.
I need her. I need the calm Lauren brings to my mind, to hold her and listen to her steady breathing to keep my thoughts in check as I fall asleep.
“I’d love to. Please.”
She nudges me playfully with her elbow. “You’re always welcome at my place,” she clarifies.
“Then let’s go,” I murmur, reaching for the last box of gingerbread.
“I need to eat something that’s not sweet, because I’ve eaten my way through this whole damn Christmas market and it’s really lacking some savory options.”
She keeps rambling about the food on the market, and all I can do is watch her walk beside me, her nose and cheeks red, her words turning into white puffs in front of her face.
My heart beats in my ribcage as if it wants to jump out, warmth spreading through every muscle as the realization settles, like a snowflake melting into my skin.
I love her.
I thought the realization would be scarier. But instead, it feels natural.
Being with her makes everything brighter. She makes everything ten times more fun than being on my own.
When I’m not with her, I catch myself thinking about her.
And once that happens, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than by her side.
Even if that means getting roped into a ridiculous gingerbread stall at the town’s Christmas market.
Or building her bookshelves. I’d build her a thousand bookshelves if that meant I could spend time with her.
“Is everything okay?” Lauren glances up at me with a worried expression.
I stop her, set down the box, lean in and steal a kiss.
“Everything’s alright,” I whisper against her lips. “Better than alright.”