Chapter 13 #2
“I can’t believe how many people are here,” she says, looking down another row.
Tilting my head toward her, my lower lip pushes out. “Hm. Have you never been here before?”
Callie shakes her head, bun flopping. “Nope. Mom has the decorators deal with getting our tree. And I’m not sure where the one at the lodge comes from.”
“Do you have a tree in your apartment?”
She laughs a carefree laugh. “Just one of those three-footers that hangs out in the corner. But it does the job.” Callie watches as a couple passes us with a mini schnauzer in tow. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring Nacho.”
Pressing my lips together, I make note of her every move, every tiny emotion flitting across her face.
I don’t want to forget it when our time truly does come to an end.
“She’s great with a few people. But all of this,” I wave my free hand, motioning to all the chaos, “would stress her out.”
“Poor Nacho.” Sympathy echoes in her tone, face dropping ever so slightly.
We’ll have to do something about that. “Hey, guess what.” Grinning, I stop in the middle of the path, pulling Callie into my arms. “The café here?”
She smirks like she knows right where this is going. “Yes … ”
Holding her this close, our noses graze one another. If she asks, I’ll just say she looked cold. “They have incredible hot chocolate,” I whisper.
“I think I may have to be the judge of that,” she grins, my breath becoming hers.
Placing a kiss on the tip of her nose, my lips never leave her skin. “I’ll buy you all the hot chocolate your heart desires.”
Leaning back, she giggles, inflating my ego. “You’re way too good at this. It’s not fair.” Sparkling coffee eyes roam my face.
“Kissing you?”
“Pretending to date me.”
Smile faltering, my insides constrict at her words, each one trying to poison what we could have together. Because for her, that’s all this is.
Playing pretend.
Peeking around me, recognition lights up her face. “Look, there’s your family.” Callie points up ahead a few rows, where my dad lays sprawled out on the ground, going to town with the saw.
Mom pops her head up from supervising as we approach, grinning when she spots Callie. “I guess it’s clear who they’re more excited to see,” I whisper to my girlfriend.
Callie playfully swats my arm, releasing herself from my hold. She runs right into my mom’s open arms. “Already have Marshall hard at work?” she teases.
Mom chuckles, a mitten-covered hand waving through the air. “Ever the perfectionist, he insisted.”
“Not to mention how Mom pretended to—” Blythe snaps her head toward Mom “—have broken kneecaps when she felt how cold the ground is.” My sister snickers.
Callie’s gloved fingers fly to her face as she tries to hide her laughter. Wide eyes find mine.
Shrugging, I recapture her hand. “Eh, Mom’s a little silly sometimes. But there’s nothing she hates more than being cold.”
Callie raises ruby brows. “Then I’m surprised you all followed Oliver to Serenvale Springs,” she says, looking at Mom. “We’re not exactly known for the balmy winters.”
“She and Blythe missed Ollie too much,” Dad calls from under the tree.
“But not you?” Callie lets go of my hand, much to my disappointment. But that woman never fails me. Getting down on her hands and knees, Callie climbs under the tree with my dad. “Here, let me.”
Dad gladly hands over the saw, sweat dripping down his face. “If you insist, Ms. Rutherford.” Moving to sit upright, he pulls a cloth from a concealed pocket, dabbing his forehead.
My mom and sister take pity, helping him up.
I’m too busy watching my girlfriend.
“Almost got it,” Callie calls.
Taking hold of the treetop, I give her a little leverage to help her finish the job. “I thought we were convincing them that we didn’t need a tree this year?” I look around for Blythe. “You know, since no one will be there.”
The final crack sounds, signaling Callie’s treecutting prowess.
And my dad’s, I guess.
But if anyone asks, I’m giving Callie all the credit.
Mom puts a hand on my shoulder as Dad takes the tree, freeing me to help Callie up from the ground. “We’re not keeping the tree,” Mom says, “we’re donating it to the nursing home and will decorate it up there.”
“That’s an amazing idea,” Callie beams. Looking the chosen tree up and down, she sighs. “They’re going to love it. My neighbor’s granddaughter actually works there as a nurse. I can give you her number, if that’d be helpful.”
My dad nods, clearly a little out of breath from the strange workout. “That’d be great,” he puffs.
Readjusting my scarf she sports so that her chin is protected from the cold, I ask, “The one who was watching us?”
Mom’s brows shoot up. “Callie’s neighbor was watching you?”
Callie giggles. “Mrs. Martinez is the sweetest. I promise she’s not nosy or anything,” she assures my mom, “just protective. Besides, she keeps me fed. Her homemade tamales are to die for.”
Grinning, I can practically see her drool forming.
“Wait,” Blythe frowns, “you’re not talking about Zia? She’s so sweet!”
Callie nods while my dad wrinkles his nose, leading us back toward the baling station with a new tree in tow. “What kind of name is Zia?”
The woman who has reattached herself to my arm laughs with her whole frame. It’s a glorious sight. “Her name is Xiomara—”
“Woah,” Dad interrupts.
“But she goes by Zia,” Callie finishes. “She goes to Blythe’s studio, too,” Callie nods toward my sister. “And she’s actually working on becoming an instructor.”
Blythe leans around Callie, narrowed eyes pretending to scowl at me. “Zia’s the other client I tried to get to go out with you.”
I don’t bother hiding my exaggerated eyeroll. “Thanks a lot. What’d you do, hand out my business card to all your single patrons?”
Callie snorts. “Basically.”
“But no one wanted you.” Blythe’s dramatic sigh will be felt for generations. “Well,” a catlike grin spreads across her face, “I guess one of them did want you, after all.” She and Callie lock eyes in that way only girls can, thousands of messages passing between them all at once.
My girlfriend finally graces me with a smile. “All it took was one cookie and I was hooked.”
Mom looks back at us from where she and Dad are leading the pack. “You’re welcome, son.” She winks at Callie. “He didn’t want to learn to bake, but I bet he’s glad I made him learn now.”
“You have no idea,” I say, grinning down at Callie.
“Oh, oh, look!” Blythe squeals, jumping up and down.
Callie and I flinch into one another—equal parts hilarious and painful.
Up ahead past the pony rides, some of the workers prepare for the horse-drawn carriage rides. Another one of our family traditions.
Complete with a walk underneath a sprig of mistletoe at the entrance.
Mom and Dad always honor the tradition, of course. And I always give Blythe a big hug.
Now, I have Callie.
Callie, who barely even pauses when she realizes what awaits her.
“Not afraid of horses, are you Callie? Or kissing my brother under the mistletoe?” Blythe asks, skipping ahead to claim our place in line.
Tossing my arm around her shoulders, I pull Callie into my side. “You didn’t even flinch when she mentioned our famous holiday tradition,” I murmur into her hair.
Callie snorts. “Why would kissing you bother me at this point? We’ve done the deed pretty much everywhere else.” Her feet stop short, face flushing at the words before finding any kind of footing again. “I didn’t mean—”
My chuckling cuts her off. “I know what you meant, Cal. But it’s good to know you’re not opposed.” Flashes of us kissing in her classroom only two days ago invade my mind, sharp and raw.
Chocolate eyes cut my way. Under the light of the darkening sky, it’s nearly impossible to catch the way they darken before flitting back to the carriages.
But it’s there.
“Come on, you two,” Blythe calls from the front of the line. Motioning like a frantic four-year-old, my sister doesn’t bother waiting to see if we answer the call.
Looking down at Callie in the soft glow of the enchanted evening, my voice comes out low, giving away more than I’d like. “After you.”
Without a word, Callie leads us hand in hand toward my family waiting in the nearest buggy.
As we reach the entrance to the carriage path, the teenage attendant looks between us and snickers. “Sorry, rules are rules,” she says, pointing to the mistletoe directly above Callie’s head.
Rolling my lips together, I hold my girlfriend tight. Those plush, kissable lips I’ve come to know so well quirk up, begging for what they know is coming. Gently pressing my lips to hers, I plead with my senses to remember this isn’t real for her.
But they simply won’t listen.
The kiss is quick.
Too brief for my liking, but half of Serenvale Springs is in the immediate vicinity and waiting for their turn at the carriages.
When I pull away, Callie grins. “That’ll make tonight worth it, even if we don’t get around to their famous cocoa.”
I beam down at my girl. “Oh, you’re getting that cocoa,” I promise.
Knocking on the door, I’m met with a frantic Calloway Rutherford. Dressed in jeans, a wool pullover, and a single fur boot, she looks much more casual than I do in my khakis and dress shirt.
I could’ve worn sweats.
With only one shoe on and a hairbrush in her hand, Callie throws the door wide open, completely out of breath. “Hey,” she pants, “you’re early. Come on in.” She doesn’t wait for my response before turning on a sock-covered heel and heading back into what I can only assume is the bedroom.
“Is everything okay?” I call from the small entryway. From this vantage point, her apartment is tidy, quite unlike her classroom. But the place radiates warmth, just like its inhabitant.
Callie pokes her head back out, working to tame her wild mane. “Yeah,” she smiles, “I just didn’t expect you for another twenty minutes, so I’m a little behind. But, uh,” she motions to the main room of her apartment, “make yourself comfortable.” Then she disappears back into the room of mysteries.