Chapter 26
Violet
Christmas Eve. Home to countless beautiful childhood memories and one terrible night.
That first year, I was inconsolable. Mom just hugged me and Dad looked like he might do bodily harm to Simon if he ever saw him again. A look I wasn’t used to seeing on my father but deeply appreciated at the time.
The next year was better, but I couldn’t get out from under the funk.
Last year? I almost felt normal.
And this year?
This year, everything’s up in the air.
My parents are gone, and I feel their loss so acutely.
I’m living in their house. Running their bakery.
Simon’s back in my life and that’s helped… but for how long? And to what end? Every time I think about him leaving, my mind starts up the doom loops.
I don’t want to doom loop.
It’s Christmas Eve. I have family surrounding me. They deserve a happy Violet. An enjoyable holiday. No one wants to hear about my fears and concerns regarding an upcoming heartbreak I willingly signed up for.
But Simon’s acting…
Well, he’s off. There’s no better way to put it.
His smile is wide, false, and a little crazed.
He’s constantly moving, like a toddler fighting a nap.
If he’s sitting, his foot is jiggling, or his fingers are tapping.
But mostly he’s perpetually in motion, playing with Nash, joking with Robbie, hunting down snacks, rearranging ornaments on the tree…
Nash is eating it up like he’s got a new playmate, but me?
It’s making me nervous. The vibes he’s giving off? Pure guilt.
Simon’s track record with Christmas Eve isn’t great.
And that’s it. It’s all I can take.
Propelled into motion by nerves, I lurch off the couch, mutter an excuse, then head into the kitchen where I stare at the counter like it might know why I’m here.
The memory of wrapping my legs around Simon’s waist is chased away by the thought of his fingers tap, tap, tapping on the arm of the sofa.
I put my hands on my hips and blow a puff of air past pursed lips.
Something’s wrong.
Something’s on his mind.
Something he’s afraid to talk about.
“What’s uh, what’s going on?” Nora asks from the doorway. Her eyes say she knows, but her tone suggests she won’t push, that she’ll give me the grace to tell her if I want to.
And it turns out I very much want to.
“Simon is freaking me out.”
Nora pushes off the doorway and folds both elbows on the counter beside me. “He’s giving quadruple espresso vibes, isn’t he?”
I yank open the fridge, peek inside, then close it again. “Do you want a cheese ball? I feel like I should make a cheese ball.”
“I don’t think we need a cheese ball.”
“I just need something to focus on that’s not him. I think I’m gonna make a cheese ball.”
“That’s a temporary cure, Vi. Hiding from the problem won’t make you feel better.” Her voice softens. “But I get it. You’ve had enough hurt for one holiday season.”
“I don’t know. Our parents made a career out of people eating their feelings. It works for everybody else. Why wouldn’t it work for me?”
Nora tilts her head, giving me a knowing, sad smile. “Ignoring your feelings…? That’s never worked in the history of people being people.”
“What does work, then? Because sometimes it feels like the only way to get through the day is to ignore my feelings.”
“For me? I’d pray over it,” Nora says, then quickly hurries on, “but I know that’s not your thing. And I’m not trying to preach, I promise. Why not just ask Simon what has him so agitated?”
I’ve already imagined too many reasons for his agitation and most of them were terrible. Just the thought of talking to him about it has me yanking open the fridge again to peer inside.
“What good would that do?” I ask the half-finished bottle of wine from dinner.
“All kinds of good.” Nora’s voice is quiet but certain enough to make me straighten.
“If by ‘good,’ you mean creating conflict and chaos on Christmas Eve,” I say over the fridge door, “then we’re in agreement.”
“Sometimes conflict is necessary.” Nora sucks in her lips, measuring her words. “But only the kind that clears the air—not the kind that burns it. You don’t have to pick a fight, Vi. Just be honest. Talk to him about how you’re feeling.”
She places a hand over her chest and waits patiently for me to process her statement. The peace that always surrounds my twin sister reaches out for me, enough so that I close the fridge door and lean against it.
“Take this from someone who’s spent her whole life worrying. Not every thought or feeling is worth speaking aloud.” I wave my hand to indicate the whole wide world. “Some of it needs to be screened.”
“Fair. But I don’t think we’re meant to do this all on our own. I bring my problems to God first. So often, worries fade. The ones that don’t? I take them to Robbie.”
I start to protest, but Nora holds up her hands and continues. “Again, I know that’s not your thing, but it’s what works for me. And also, just to be clear, I one thousand percent understand why you don’t want conflict with Simon on Christmas Eve…”
“I really, really don’t, Nora. It’s been a hard couple months and the thought of more hard? Tonight? I can’t handle it.”
My sister opens her arms and I step into them. “I can promise you this,” she whispers. “If Simon Holiday ruins another Christmas Eve, he’s the one who won’t be handle what’s coming.”
I huff a laugh and pull back. “You got that right.”
Movement in the doorway catches our attention and we turn to find Simon. He draws to a stop when he sees us, holding up his hands. “I’m sorry. I was looking for Violet, but I don’t want to interrupt…”
“It’s fine,” says Nora. “We were just finishing up anyways.” She turns back to me, pressing her palm to her chest, then drawing her fingers into a fist before walking past Simon to join her husband and son in the living room.
Blue eyes hit mine with the fullness of forever. He shoves his hands into his pockets and leans on the counter.
“Look, Violet, I—” he begins at the same time I ask, “Can we talk?”
There’s a moment of embarrassed laughter and I consider waving him on and keeping quiet, but something deep inside urges me to speak my mind.
So, I do.
“You’re acting really weird tonight and it’s freaking me out. We don’t really have a great Christmas Eve track record. So, instead of the normal amount of freaking out, I’m taking it to a championship level here.”
“No, I guess we don’t have a great Christmas Eve track record, do we?”
I shake my head, anxiety lurching and spinning through my veins. It’s enough to make me dizzy. “What’s going on, Simon? I can’t go back out there and pretend everything’s okay when I can clearly see it’s not. I just can’t.”
He inhales deeply, then releases a breath. Everything about his posture says he’s preparing himself for something big.
I brace accordingly.
“I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”
Okay then. In the realm of strong openers, that one’s a doozy.
“In what way?”
“I had originally planned to fly from New York to Colorado to meet my family for the ski trip. But I, uh, I came here first specifically to talk to you.”
While he’s said nothing wrong, every alarm bell in my system is ringing. Every flashing light, every flag, they’re all red. I cross my arms—brows furrowed—and wait to be walloped by Simon Holiday once again.
“Over the course of the last several years, I’ve been developing an idea that has the possibility to take the markets by storm. My mentor has even been talking about the potential for franchising. For legacy.”
I frown. He came home to talk to me about something business related, then spent weeks winning me over with romance. There’s more than a wallop waiting for me at the end of this conversation. My heart clenches. The room tilts.
“What’s the idea?”
Simon swallows hard, arms crossed like he’s bracing for what comes next.
He scrubs a hand over his mouth then says, “It’s our idea, Vi.
The one we dreamed up together. I came down here to ask you to sign a contract relinquishing your rights to any claim of trademark or IP, so I could move forward without fear of a lawsuit. ”
Every hope, every wish, every dream I had for us pops. Betrayal drops like a rock into my stomach.
“That’s why you’ve been so nice to me?” I’m stunned. I’m frozen. I’m…
…pissed.
“The gifts on my porch every morning? Helping me decorate the house? The dinner at the lighthouse? The talks that lasted long past my bedtime? The whole ice-skating extravaganza? Are you saying none of that had anything to do with me and everything to do with money? Because you thought I’d sue you? ”
I cock my head, staring at the man across from me, searching for a sign—any sign—of contrition.
And then I’m pacing. Head shaking. Hands trembling.
What a fool I’ve been!
“Violet…” Simon reaches for me and I step back.
“No, Simon. No. You broke my heart once; I can’t believe you’re so willing to do it again.”
“Damn it, Vi! Will you listen to me? That’s not what this is about.”
I cross my arms over my chest and jut my chin.
“That’s why I came, yes. But it’s not why I stayed. And it certainly isn’t why I’ve spent this month with you.”
“Then why did you spend this month with me?”
“Because I’m still in love with you.”
The words drop into the conversation. My heart wants to recognize the ring of truth, but my mind? My mind is spinning and confused and terrified of being hurt again.
“I felt it the moment I stepped into Sterling’s,” Simon continues, holding out his hands like he’s offering me all of him.
“I’ve felt it every day since. I told myself that first day that the timing was wrong to talk to you about the contract.
And every day after that… the timing’s wrong.
But I’ve come to realize it isn’t the timing that’s wrong… the whole idea was wrong.”
Simon rakes a hand into his hair and suddenly his energy is weird again. He paces from one end of the kitchen to the other. “I don’t want to do it without you, Vi. That’s what I’ve learned this month. That all the money, fame, fortune, and glory in the world isn’t worth it if I don’t have you.”
He reaches into his back pocket and brings out a small package. “This is why I’m so nervous tonight. Because I knew I had to tell you the truth and it wasn’t going to be easy. And because I knew I was going to give you this.”
He hands the package to me. It’s so light, it almost feels empty. I cock my head, then carefully unwrap it, my heart pounding, my mind questioning, my soul already rejoicing—though I don’t know why.
Inside the box is a printout of a ticket from Florida to New York, leaving January first.
I stare at the thing, baffled. “I don’t understand…”
“The ticket’s for you, Violet. I want you to come back to New York with me.”
I’m already shaking my head, staring at the box like it might bite. “Simon… My life is here. My bakery is here. I can’t just move to New York because you came home for a month…”
And yet, I don’t know if I can live without him, either.
So now what?
Simon bends to meet my eyes. “I’m not asking you to come to New York to live. I’m asking you to come with me to help me pack. Because I want to come home, Violet. I want to come back to Stillwater Bay. I want to come back to you.”
I stand there in shock, blinking in silence as his words sink into my being.
What’s this mean? He’s willing to quit his job? To leave behind the life he’s worked so hard for? Why?
For me?
“If you’ll have me,” he adds quickly. “If you want me.”
He looks so nervous, his lip caught between his teeth, his brows drawn and pinched. I glance at the ticket, then carefully slip the lid on the box and place it on the counter before stepping into his arms. “I want you, Simon. I’ve never stopped wanting you. I don’t think I ever will.”
And then his lips find mine…
…his hands in my hair…
…tears in my eyes…
“Does this mean you’ll come with me to help me pack?” he whispers, wiping at the moisture on my cheek.
“I’d love to.” I nod. “But where will you live? And what about work?”
“I don’t know for sure. Maybe my parents are looking for a roommate,” he says with a smile. “The only thing that matters right now is that you want me to come home. The rest we can figure out later.”
And then I’m just grinning up at him. “I love that we have a later.”
“Me too, Vi. Me too.”
I’m still grinning when he leans down and presses a kiss to my temple. The world feels new again, bright and possible.
“As much as I’d love to stay right here forever,” he murmurs, “maybe we should go back out and spend the rest of the evening with your family.”
Simon takes my hand and leads me into the living room, where Robbie is reading ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas to Nash. Nora meets my eyes. An unspoken question passes between us and all I can do is smile… but that’s enough. She understands.
When Robbie finishes reading, Nora hands each of us one wrapped present—a Sterling family tradition.
“Gee, I wonder what’s inside?” Robbie asks, sarcastically, shaking the box with contrived curiosity.
“Dad…” Nash manages to turn a single word into a full-blown eye roll. “You know. I know. We all know. It’s pajamas, just like every Christmas Eve.”
“You don’t know for sure,” Robbie counters, fighting laughter. “Not until the gift’s been opened. It could be a puppy.”
Nash stares at his package with all the disbelief a six-year-old can muster. “It’s not a puppy.”
“Open it and see.”
He tears through the paper and hauls out a pair of red PJs printed with an image of a golden retriever wearing a Santa hat.
“See?” Robbie flares his hands. “I knew it’d be a puppy.”
Nash rolls his eyes as the rest of us open our packages.
Later, after Nash has gone to bed, Simon and I share our news with Nora and Robbie. They exclaim in contrived surprise, like they saw this coming a mile away, and my heart fills to overflowing.
This—this is everything I always wanted.
Family.
Tradition.
Love.