Chapter 30
brOOKE
Leaving him got harder every time. These weekend snippets were never enough. I knew soon we’d be back to phone calls and text streams, inevitably interrupted by both our busy shift jobs.
My small roller suitcase was packed, and I was crouched down scratching Echo’s ears, avoiding meeting Cade’s eyes.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me up to him. “Hey,” he said softly, reading the emotion on my face. “We’ll be okay. You’ll call me when your flight lands, right?”
I nodded.
He wrapped me in a hug, his cheek pressed against mine.
“I love you, Brooke.” The words still felt new to my ears, but the emotions behind them had been building—for both of us—for some time.
“I love you, too,” I whispered back, furiously fighting the tears that filled my eyes. “It’s not fair,” I bemoaned, heart in my throat.
Why couldn’t he live closer? After all these years, we’d finally found our way back to each other. So why couldn’t it just magically fall into place for us?
“I know it’s not.” He brushed my hair from my face. “But it’s what we’ve got. For now,” he assured me. “I’ll come to Boston as soon as I can.”
But he didn’t come, and I didn’t make it back to California, either. We’d taken too much time off work that calendar year, and we’d both depleted all of our savings on plane tickets.
The next few months we struggled with the frustrations of a long-distance relationship—missed calls and texts, conflicting shifts, differing time zones. We did our best with texts and FaceTime, but we both felt the strain.
Our relationship at times became a series of missed calls and voicemails.
By Christmas time it had been nearly four months since we’d seen each other in person.
We’d all be in Vermont for the holidays.
My mom was heading back to Vermont and having Christmas with Owen and me, and Cade would be flying in to see his parents.
Cade and I resolved to squeeze in some kind of alone time, despite both only having a few days in the same state.
Whit and I drove to Birch Hollow with Ivy in tow.
“Are you sure I should be coming with you?” Whit asked as we loaded the car.
“You’re my family,” I assured her. “Family spends time together at Christmas.”
Whit’s parents were gone. They’d been over 60 when they adopted her, and they passed away within the same year of each other, when Whit was only 21.
She had a younger brother, Adam, but they had drifted apart over the years after their parents’ deaths, and he’d moved to Arizona on a quest of self-discovery.
Despite her protests that she’d be intruding, I wouldn’t leave her and Ivy alone for the holidays.
We got a hotel room at the Birch Hollow Inn, where my mom, who had moved to upstate New York, would also be staying.
Cade, of course, was staying with his parents.
After we unloaded our bags from the car, I texted Cade that we’d gotten in and gave him the room number, and we confirmed our plans for brunch the next day with both our families.
At 9 pm, there was a soft knock at our hotel room door. Maple’s ears perked at the sound, but she stayed curled on the edge of my double bed. Ivy was dozing while Whit flipped channels, so I went to the door to answer it.
Ice-blue eyes met mine.
“Cade,” I said in surprise. I stepped out of the hotel room into the carpeted hallway and pulled the door closed behind me.
“Hey, baby.” He pulled me into his arms. “Sorry, I know I was supposed to wait til tomorrow, but I couldn’t.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I said, burrowing into his neck.
“I really missed you.” He sounded forlorn.
“I missed you, too.”
He captured my lips in a warm kiss. “God—you know I love our families, but I kind of wish they could disappear and we could have some time to ourselves for a few days. Does that make me Scrooge?”
I laughed into his chest, shaking my head. “I don’t think so. I wish the same. When do you head back, again?”
“Day after Christmas. You?”
“The 27th.”
He hung his head. “God, this is hard.”
I had no words to disagree, so I fisted his shirt and pulled him into me for another kiss, memorizing his scent and the feel of his lips against mine. It wasn’t enough, but it had to be, at least for tonight.
It was two days before Christmas. We all met up at the organic, farm-to-table cafe in Birch Hollow where Owen was the head chef.
The cafe was settled along Main Street amid a row of shops and restaurants, nestled between Lake Realty and what looked like an upscale yet quirky gift shop, with a sign that read Wine & Whimsy in a curlicue font.
The cafe section of the building was painted a dark sage green, and the glass front of the building welcomed us with the name Harvest House in white script.
A chalkboard sign out front listed the specials.
We sat at a long wooden table—the Adlers, my mom, Whit, Cade, and me, with a highchair pulled up to the table for nine-month-old Ivy.
The old-fashioned wood trim inside the cafe had been painted the same green as the building’s exterior, and the walls were a softer shade several tones lighter.
The place felt warm and cozy and had a variety of menu items from artichoke omelets and quinoa bowls, to the classic brunch fare of pancakes and bacon.
This place hadn’t been around back when Cade and I were in school, but now it was a regular stop on my Vermont visits to see Owen. The food was always delicious.
My mom and the Adlers caught up on their lives as we enjoyed our meal.
They seemed so happy that Cade and I were together.
Beside me, Cade rested his hand on my thigh and asked Whit about her graphic design business, which was growing, albeit slowly.
My heart thumped joyfully at the chorus of overlapping voices and happy conversation.
Cade nudged my knee when he saw my order of waffles with whipped cream.
“Okay, Leslie Knope,” he joked.
“Does that make you Ron Swanson?” I countered back, chuckling at the three different types of breakfast meats surrounding his omelet.
Owen came over at the end of the meal, and we all gave enthusiastic compliments to the chef over the deliciousness of the food.
After brunch, my mom headed back to the hotel for a nap while Cade and I wandered down Main Street, giving Whit the official tour. I wanted to show Whit all the Birch Hollow staples, as well as the many new shops that had cropped up since I’d moved away.
Cade instinctively looped my arm through his as we wandered, and I caught his eye, sending him a huge grin. He always seemed to know how to help support or prevent my aches and pains for me, but in a subtle way—to the outside eye, he was simply being chivalrous, a gentleman.
And a girl could get used to being on this handsome guy’s arm.
We walked past The Ginger Snap, which smelled deliciously of sweet baked goods and had the cutest Christmas window display.
A few steps further and we reached the eccentric and well-stocked thrift store, Retro with Flo, and Whit lingered at the display of mannequins in the window.
It was definitely the kind of shop Whit would visit.
Flo, a white-haired woman in her 60s, saw us and waved cheerfully.
We said hello to Cade’s cousin Andrew as we walked past the faded blue facade of Adler’s Hardware, then crossed the street to walk by the pastel pink soft-serve ice cream shop, Mimi’s Creemees.
We passed the florist, Callie’s Blooms, the coffee shop The Beanery, and the craft store—Fran’s.
All of us lingered for a moment at the window of Ruff & Fluff, the combination dog groomer, pet store, and dog bakery.
Whit drank in the unique colors and details of each place, and I could see it set her designer wheels turning.
“I could live in a place like this,” Whit mused. I tried to picture her living anywhere but Boston. A small town actually made perfect sense for Whit, since the big city traffic and crowds added to her social anxiety. But my heart ached painfully at the idea of us ever living far apart.
Would she one day relocate and leave me?
I pushed the uncomfortable thought aside.
We spent Christmas Eve at the Adlers’, and it was the perfect family Christmas around the tree.
We shared cups of cider and hot chocolate, exchanging presents and retelling childhood stories.
I’d missed hearing the boom of Mr. Adler’s jolly voice, and Ivy’s antics now that she was crawling kept us all laughing and on our toes.
The dogs moved in and out between people, clearly enjoying the additional attention—and occasional slice of ham—the holiday brought them.
That evening Whit and I settled into our hotel room, Ivy fast asleep in the portable crib. Around 10:30 that night, I met Whit’s eyes. My expression was sheepish.
“I . . . think I might go out,” I began, glancing down at my phone.
My eyes skated to the side to catch Whit’s reaction.
“Bout damn time,” she responded.
I met her eyes and we shared a chuckle.
Already in flared yoga pants and a sweatshirt, I threw on my UGG-style slippers and my overcoat and slipped quietly from the room, down the carpeted hallway, and to the lot where my car was parked.
When I arrived on Aspen Court, I parked on the street and killed the lights. Cade had been texting me since I’d left his house earlier, so I knew he was still up.
I texted him when I put the car in park.
brOOKE
I’m out front
I felt like a rebellious teen sneaking into a boyfriend’s house, a feat I’d never attempted in my actual teen years.
Cade came to the door, adorably rumpled. “Hi.” He beamed at me. I felt like I could melt into a puddle at his feet.
“Can I come in?” I asked coyly.
He opened the door and I snuck past him, slipping quietly down to the hall to his childhood room. I removed my coat and sweatshirt and placed them on a chair in the corner of the room.