Chapter 15 #2
“Well, it doesn’t matter. You win. You’ve got it. His heart. All of it.” Her voice cracks, just slightly. “So if you’re going to run again, do it now. Don’t string him along. Don’t let the whole town paint a picture of a life he’s never going to get. Not again.”
My throat tightens. “I’m not stringing him along.”
She exhales slowly, stepping back. “Then you need to decide what you are doing. Because this town may love a fairy tale, but it doesn’t do well with heartbreak. And neither does Luke.”
Her words hit harder than I want to admit.
I want to clap back. To remind her that my life—my choices—aren’t any of her business.
But the problem is, she’s not wrong. And I hate that.
I hate that she’s right. I hate that I hurt Luke once, even if I didn’t know it or mean to.
And I hate it even more that I may do it again.
I watch her walk away, and it takes a moment before I realize I’ve crumpled the ribbon in my hand.
I turn to leave, desperate for air, but I’m intercepted again.
“Oh, Eve!” Pam trills from behind a display of peppermint bark. “I heard the big news!”
“There is no news,” I mumble.
“You mean not yet.” She winks, practically vibrating with excitement. “I always knew you two would end up together. You’re meant to be. The farmer and the firecracker.”
“I’m not a firecracker,” I say, voice hollow.
“Oh, but you are!” She laughs, tossing a box of hot cocoa into her cart. “He’s so serious and you’re so... sparkly. You two perfectly balance each other.”
I nod, my face frozen in a smile that’s growing thinner by the second.
“You’re going to be so happy here,” she says. “You’ll settle down, have a few kids, take over the Christmas festival planning committee... maybe even run for mayor someday.”
I laugh—but it’s barely a sound. “That’s... a lot.”
She chuckles like I’m just being modest. “Well, you’re the town’s favorite now. And now that you’ve got Luke, you’ve got everything.”
Except I don’t know what I have. Or what I’m supposed to do with it.
When I finally get outside, the cold slaps me across the face, and I welcome it. It’s real. It stings. It’s mine. The voices from the general store echo in my ears as I walk blindly toward nowhere.
Meant to be.
Perfect balance.
Future Mrs. Dawson.
I hug the ribbon to my chest like it might hold me together. Ribbon that I didn’t even pay for. Great, now I’m a thief!
I love this town. I do. And I love Luke—no, I’m falling in love with him.
Which might be worse, because it’s new and terrifying and not yet rooted.
Not safe. And now, I’m supposed to carry the weight of an entire town’s expectations and Luke’s heart like some glitter-covered Santa bag I never asked to carry.
I wanted cozy and quiet. Hot cocoa and firelight. A kiss under the mistletoe, not a promise I haven’t even figured out how to make yet.
Because what happens if I mess it up?
What happens if I am the reason Luke becomes a grinch again?
What if I don’t stay?
And what if I do?
I stop in the middle of Main Street, snow swirling around me like the whole town is holding its breath.
I want to be enough for him.
But right now?
I don’t even know if I’m enough for me.
I meet my mom for coffee at the café an hour later, still too stunned to even bring it up as we’re ordering our drinks and finding a table in the crowded café.
My mom's eyes narrow and her posture straightens as she gives me that Mom Look; you know the one.
That look is like a laser beam, intense and penetrating, able to cut through any distraction and get straight to the heart of the matter. “Spit it out,” she says, the corners of her mouth turning down slightly in concern.
Mrs. Garcia slides between us, handing Mom her chai tea latte and me, another coffee.
I give a weak smile as a thank you. Then sighing, I run my hand across my face before answering Mom. “I got offered a job. A really good one. As a producer and a host of a new TV show.”
Her face lights up. “Oh, sweetheart!”
“I’m not taking it.”
She pauses, confused. “You’re not?”
“It’s back in LA.”
“Ah,” Mom says. “I see. And… you no longer like living in LA?”
“I don’t know.” I stir my coffee—regular black coffee rather than my peppermint mocha because I don’t deserve it today. Not if I’m about to break Luke’s heart again.
I take a sip and grimace as Mom slides me a creamer across the table. “For the love of God, kid, add some cream. I can’t keep watching you choke down that cup of coffee.”
I take the creamer packet and tear off the paper top. “It’s just… I finally feel like I’m building something real here. With the festival. With Luke.”
She leans in. “Don’t get me wrong, sweetie.
Your father and I love having you back. And if moving home is the next step in your journey, we welcome you and Cringle with open arms. But…
and I mean this respectfully… a two week festival at Christmas isn’t a life.
It’s merely a part of life here. A fraction of it, really.
And for many of us, winning is our yearly goal; our dream. But… is that really your dream, Eve?”
Tears burn in my eyes.
We both know that answer. “I want it all,” I whisper. I want the life here with the career I can find in LA. But… I don’t think that’s possible. It would take a miracle.”
Mom nods and holds my hand from across the table. “Well, lucky for you, Christmas is the time for miracles.”