Chapter 4
Simon
One look at Violet’s face says she had no idea I was going to be here this evening.
Well, hell…
I had no intention of crashing her party twice in one day.
Nora was supposed to talk to her about it, gauge how she felt, and if there was a problem, shoot Robbie a text so I could politely back out.
He checked his phone after we bought sandwiches from the Dana’s Diner booth.
No message from Nora, so we strolled our happy asses right back over.
And, honestly, I was thrilled at the prospect.
It’d be nice, right? The four of us together again after all these years?
The look on Violet’s face says otherwise.
I should apologize and bow out.
But then Robbie’s pouncing on Nora with all the commitment of a cartoon villain, scaring the crap out of his little boy. Hands fly up, chaos erupts, someone screams, half of Stillwater Bay stops and stares.
“Oh, my goodness gracious! Robert Kincaid! Why in the world would you do something like that?” Nora asks as the little guy hops off her lap and runs into Robbie’s arms.
“Daddy!” he screams. “Did you bring the dinners? I’m so hungry! So so so so hungry that Mama told Aunt Violet and then called me a monster man, and now you acted like a monster man!”
Robbie laughs, picking the boy up and holding him close while my brain click-click-clicks everything into place. When I left for college, Nora had just discovered she was pregnant. And now here’s this kid. Their kid. He’s six and this is the first time I’ve seen him in person.
Some best friend I’ve been.
“I have no idea what he just said,” Robbie says to Nora, “but it sounds like maybe you guys are having a good time?”
“We were until you scared the ever living everything out of me.” Nora glances at Violet, and the look of betrayal on her face has my heart sinking.
This will not be the happy reunion I hoped it would be.
“You guys weren’t gone very long. I didn’t have a chance to talk to her.
” Nora takes Violet’s hand. “I’m sorry, Vi.
We didn’t mean to drop this in your lap.
I was supposed to talk to you about Simon hanging out with us tonight, see how you felt, then text them if you’d rather tell him to pound sand. ”
Robbie grimaces, and I hold up my hands in surrender, backing up slightly. “If this is no good, I can find somewhere else to be. The last thing I want is to make it awkward.”
“It’s fine,” Violet replies, sighing deeply and burrowing deeper into her jacket.
Her russet hair shines in the evening light, and those storm-grey eyes hit mine with a look that’s honestly confusing.
They say she’s both fine and not fine all at once, and I’m suddenly struck with how strange it is to see her and not know her.
“You sure?” I ask as the moment steeps in awkwardness. “Because I could just, you know—” I wave my hands in a magician’s flourish as if to suggest I could disappear on the spot, which is exactly what I wish I could do right now.
Violet sips her drink, probably apple cider, her favorite, and shakes her head. “No, no, it’s fine. Everything’s fine. This will be good, right? The four of us together again, like you said. It’s great.”
We all fall quiet, bobbing our heads like agreeable chickens. Robbie’s little boy looks at each of us in turn, trying to decipher what the heck is going on. Then Nora throws up her hands with a funny little laugh.
“You know what? All of this is great. We used to have so much fun together and Lord knows, Violet is in need of some fun.” She pats her sister’s knee, then shifts to face me. “Simon, I’d like to officially introduce you to my son, Nash.”
The little guy extends his hand, obviously imitating someone he’s seen. “I’m Nash Kincaid, and it’s a pleasure to meet you. I met Santa today. He said he wasn’t Santa, but I shook his hand and I…” he lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “I know who I met.”
Laughing, I crouch to shake his hand, looking to Robbie for clarification, who appears just as baffled as I feel.
“Roger Clementine,” Violet says, chuckling. “He met Roger Clementine today.”
“Yeah, that’s what he said, but I don’t believe him.” Nash shakes his head and reaches for the bag in Robbie’s hand. “Can we eat, Daddy? I’m starved.”
As Robbie passes out sandwiches and fries, music swells over Stillwater Bay Town Square.
The live band takes over for the high schoolers with a rousing version of “Jingle Bell Rock.” People laugh and cheer—some heading to the dance floor, others still milling about and checking out the market stalls.
I perch on a bench beside Violet, looking for ways to break the ice.
“Let me guess,” I say, smiling despite the nerves in my belly. “It’s apple cider, right?”
“You know it.” Vi holds up the mug and takes a sip, smiling weakly, looking everywhere but directly at me.
“Remember when we were what? Sixteen? Seventeen? And tried to sneak the rum-soaked cider?” Robbie asks, grinning mischievously as Nora laughs.
“We got in so much trouble.”
Violet shakes her head, her real smile blooming. “Remember? How could I forget? The whole thing was Simon and Robbie’s idea, but it was me and Nora who were grounded for a week.”
Robbie shoves his hands in his pockets. “Whaddaya say we get some tonight? I mean, we basically owe it to our younger selves.”
“You guys have fun,” Nora says. “But Nash needs at least one responsible adult looking after him this evening.”
“Fair enough, but what about you two?” Robbie rubs his hands together, mischievous smile firmly in place. “Three rum-soaked apple ciders for the large and not in charge in the crowd?”
I look to Violet, who shrugs. “Why not? It is a celebration, after all.”
Though nothing about her says celebration ready.
She’s in black pants with black boots. If I remember correctly from earlier today, there’s a black sweater under that white puffy jacket. Sure, she’s smiling and yes, she’s joining in, but somehow it feels like the thing that makes Violet Violet is nowhere to be found.
Maybe that’s because I’m here.
I cross my legs as nonchalantly as possible, just in case.
“Looks like the yeas have it,” I say, and Robbie—with his special brand of always-in-motion, always-doing-for-others—trots off toward the booth to place the order.
Nora and Nash get lost in a heated debate over Santa’s living situation. I glance at Violet. She smiles coldly, then looks away, taking a sip of her cider while I pick at invisible lint on my shirt.
“So how’ve you been?” I finally blurt out, then mentally groan. I mean, really?
Her parents just passed away.
She’s living alone.
She’s dressed like it’s Halloween and not Christmas and that’s my opening line?
“I mean, how are you? I kind of have an idea how you’ve been. But, you know, how are you coping?”
Atta boy, Holiday. That’ll fix it.
Violet stares for a long moment, a shadow in those eyes that used to be so familiar. It’s like no time has passed at all, yet we’re in a completely different timeline, staring at each other across a great divide.
“I’m fine,” she responds, her gaze focused on the unlit tree.
“Oh, come on now. You don’t have to pretend with me.” I bump my shoulder against hers and earn myself an incredulous stare before Violet shrugs.
“Today was a good day in a stream of weird days.” She takes a sip of her apple cider. “Though this part of the day is a little weirder than I expected.”
I laugh. “You can say that again.”
Robbie arrives with the rum-soaked cider, and his natural “good time” energy we so desperately need. We drink. We laugh. We talk about old times growing up in this town, the four of us friends from the second we met.
Remember that time we all sat on the pier, watching a storm roll in and Violet got so scared…?
Remember the last time we were all together, when Robbie had just gotten his orders and Nora had just found out she was pregnant…?
Remember when Cal Monroe tried to talk us into breaking into the old lighthouse out near the palm grove…?
Remember…?
Remember…?
Remember…?
We laugh and share stories, and one cider turns into two which turns into three and the years separating us dissolve.
Suddenly the band stops playing and applause breaks through the crowd. Our mayor steps onto the scene. He’s small and round and bundled up in a suit and coat like it’s actually freezing instead of mildly chilly.
“Good evening, Stillwater Bay!”
The crowd answers with cheers and a few whistles, the sound rolling like a tide through the square.
“Now, I know some of you were worried this year’s tree might take flight in that Gulf breeze, but I promise she’s anchored tighter than Santa’s sleigh on Christmas Eve!”
Laughter ripples through the crowd.
“Every December, our little town does something that most people wouldn’t expect from a place with palm trees and flip-flops.
We lean all the way into Christmas. We bake too much.
We drink cocoa in seventy-degree weather.
We string lights from every lamppost and pretend this Florida humidity is a winter chill.
” He grins, pausing as whispers of agreement run through the crowd.
“But you know what? That’s what makes Stillwater Bay special.
We make our own kind of Christmas magic.
Not because of the weather, or the lights, or even the tree we’re about to light up.
We make it because of the people standing right here.
Neighbors helping neighbors. Families gathering again after a long year.
Friends sharing laughter and kindness. That’s what keeps this town glowing long after the decorations come down. ”
He gestures toward the darkened tree towering behind him, a grin spreading across his jolly face.
“So, let’s do what Stillwater does best. Let’s make it shine. I want everyone—young and old, locals and visitors—to join me in counting down. Ready?”
The crowd roars back, “Ready!”
“Ten… nine… eight…”
Children squeal, parents lift them up, phones rise to record, and the square fills with laughter and anticipation.
“…three… two… one!”
The tree bursts to life in a blaze of gold and emerald and ruby light. The crowd gasps, then cheers, the sound swelling with carols and joy.
The mayor raises his cocoa. “Merry Christmas, Stillwater Bay!”
A chorus of “Merry Christmas” sounds through the crown, and I glance at Violet, who’s smiling sadly, trying to wipe tears from her eyes so no one will see.
“You okay?” I whisper.
“Mom used to love this.” She glances at me then quickly turns away. “She’d start getting excited in November and would be almost giddy by the time we got here. I just… I miss them, Simon. I miss a lot of things.”
Her voice is raw, and I throw an arm around her shoulders, holding her close.
Instinct?
Habit?
Either way, there’s an overwhelming desire to be there for her like I used to.
Violet leans into me, and it feels just as comfortable and right and real as it ever did.
“Thank you,” she whispers and I press a kiss into the top of her head, then widen my eyes in shock. Nostalgia or not, top-of-head kisses go one step too far. I mean, right?
Before my rum-soaked brain supplies an answer, two women stroll up, pausing to stare, and in the dim light I recognize Erin Rochester and Cassidy Young from high school. They drop their jaws in shock.
“Oh wow!” Erin presses her hand to her chest. “I mean oh wow! When did this happen?” She waggles her finger back and forth between Vi and me. Nora and Robbie lean over to see what’s caught the women’s attention and their lips slowly part.
Cassidy’s eyes glimmer. “You two were the couple to beat back in the day.”
“It was so sad when you broke up.” Erin tilts her head in that classic female sad story way and Cassidy claps her hand together.
“It’s like a Christmas miracle to see you together again!”
Violet sits up and pulls away, clearing her throat and quickly swiping at her eyes. “Oh no,” she says, shaking her head vehemently. “Simon and I are not back together again.”
The emphasis on not is a quick jolt back to reality.
“Nope,” I add quickly. “I’m just in town visiting. Catching up with old friends.”
“Maybe that’s just how it starts.” Erin sighs dreamily. “But leave it to the Christmas spirit. You never know what might happen!”
Cassidy elbows her. “I think you’ve had too much mulled wine.”
“Nu-uh,” comes the slurred response. “You had too much mulled wine.”
They move on, giggling harder than they need to. Violet wipes her eyes and sits straighter, a wall going back up between us.
Which is fine.
Totally understandable and as it should be.
Our time in each other’s lives is past.
Well…
It’ll be passed once I’ve gotten her to sign that contract.
“I don’t know,” Robbie says. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe the Christmas spirit will bring you two lovebirds back together again.”
Violet scoffs and rolls her eyes.
“Oh, come on. It’s not that farfetched. You guys were so good together.”
Nora reaches for her husband, trying to shush him. “It’s more farfetched than you’d think, honey. Remember?”
“Simon really doesn’t get the whole Christmas spirit thing,” Violet mutters.
“Of course he does! Just look at him in his shorts and T-shirt. That screams Christmas spirit.”
“He broke up with me on Christmas Eve, remember? I was standing right there, under the tree, and he was supposed to fly home that night so we could get married and start our lives together. Instead, he called to inform me he was staying in New York. Forever.” Violet turns to me with hurt in her eyes.
“And it’s fine. In the past. But if we could just change the subject, that would be great. ”
“Dude…” Robbie looks at me like I committed murder. “That’s right.”
“I’ll admit. Not my finest hour.”
“Not your finest…?” Violet scooches away from me, sadly shaking her head. “No Simon. It was not your finest hour.”
I could defend myself, but there’s no point.
Not now. Probably not ever. Maybe once upon a time, Violet and I were the couple to beat, maybe there’s a part of me that looks at Robbie and Nora and wonders what could have been if Violet and I had gotten married when they did, but none of it matters because choices were made, paths changed.
Violet and me?
Our story is over.
Well…
Almost.