Chapter 19
Cole
Dale Lawson snapped his clipboard shut and slipped his pen into his shirt pocket after Gavin signed the service agreement. “We’ll start tomorrow. Since the walls are already open, this is the best time to redo all the plumbing: full repipe, new water heater, everything brought up to code.”
Gavin’s shoulders sank against the studs he was leaning on. “And I take it that means I’m out of luck if I want to shower or flush a toilet in here once you start the work?”
“Afraid so,” Dale confirmed. “You won’t have running water until we finish, and it’ll be about two weeks at least, maybe a little longer if we run into surprises. But, when it’s done, you’ll be set for years.”
The way Gavin dragged a hand down his face told me he wasn’t hearing the “set for years” part.
“Two weeks without water. That’s just … great.” He sighed.
I gave Dale a nod. “I’ll make sure everything’s ready for you.”
“See you in the morning.” Dale tipped his chin and pulled the back door closed behind him.
“Two weeks with no water. That’s insane. I should’ve known this place would be a nightmare.”
“It’s not a nightmare,” I countered as I heard Dale start his van. “We’re going to make this place better than ever, and this spring, when you reopen, you’re going to have people booking a year in advance.”
“I hope so, but what do I do now? Pee in the yard? Bathe in the freezing lake?”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him I had a shower he could use, but then he said, “I guess I could go back to New York. At least I’d have running water there. I could get some writing done, see friends, and take a break from all this dust.”
My chest tightened at the thought of him leaving. “You don’t need to go back to the city. Stay with me.”
His eyes snapped to mine. “At your house?”
“Yeah. I’ve got a spare room, remember?”
He snorted a small laugh as I heard Dale drive off. “Spare room. Right.”
“That’s what we’ll tell people.” I grinned. “You and I both know you’re not going to be sleeping in there.”
He narrowed his eyes playfully. “You make it sound simple.”
“It is simple.” I stepped closer, lowering my voice and grabbing his hand. “You’ll get your writing done, I’ll get this place sorted, and at night we’ll both end up in the same bed.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to—”
“I’m sure. I don’t want you to leave.”
“You make it hard to argue when you say it like that.”
“That’s the idea.” I squeezed his hand a little tighter in mine. “So are you staying?”
“Yeah,” he breathed. “I’m staying.”
“Good.” I sealed my lips against his and then, while he packed, I got back to work.
* * *
On Saturday, Gavin and I were stretched out on my couch; he had his laptop open, and I was watching hockey on the TV. He typed a few words, groaned, then shut the thing with a sigh.
“Are you getting a Christmas tree?” he asked.
I looked over at him. “Hadn’t planned on it.”
“But it’s Christmas. You need a tree.”
“I went last year without one. It’s fine.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t.” His voice dipped lower. “It’s my first Christmas without my parents, and since I’m here, I’d really like to have one.”
I stared at him, unable to say no because of the pain in his eyes.
He pressed on. “So, if you’re willing, let’s go get one. Doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Just a tree.”
“All right, we’ll get a tree.”
* * *
An hour later, we were in the next town, filling a cart with strings of lights, a few boxes of colorful ornaments, hooks, and a bag of silver tinsel Gavin swore was essential. By the time we left, the back seat of my truck was piled high with bags.
“Now,” Gavin said as he buckled in, “we get the tree.”
Snow was falling by the time we pulled into Evergreen Tree Farm.
Kids were running between the rows while their parents debated about whether they needed six feet or seven.
Couples carried saws, and teenagers trailed behind them with cups of hot cider.
I grabbed a saw while Gavin wandered ahead of me, scanning the trees with his hands stuffed in his pockets.
He stopped every so often, tugged at a branch, then moved on.
“Afternoon, Cole.” Mrs. Perkins came toward us with a steaming cup in one hand and her scarf wrapped twice around her neck. Her eyes slid to Gavin. “And you’ve brought company.”
“Yeah,” I answered. “Gavin’s the new owner of Cedar Falls Inn and he’s staying at my place while Dale repipes it.”
Her smile widened. “That’s nice of you to offer your spare room, but you know, Paige is coming back tomorrow. You two should catch up, maybe get coffee again.”
“I’m buried at the inn,” I told her, trying to put a stop to the conversation.
She waved it off. “Coffee doesn’t take time. And the diner’s open late. You could even take her to dinner this time.”
“The inn’s keeping me busy enough. I won’t have time for dinner.”
Mrs. Perkins clicked her tongue. “Always working.” She turned her attention to Gavin. “What about you, dear? Surely you’re not busy since Cole’s doing all the work at the inn?”
“I … ah,” he stammered. “I’m on a deadline too.”
“Oh?”
“I’m an author.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes, and we should get back so he can finish his chapter,” I cut in.
“Yep. Books don’t write themselves.” Gavin laughed.
“All right. Have a good evening.” She gave Gavin a polite nod before moving on, stopping to ask another couple about their children.
Gavin waited until she was out of earshot. “So, Paige?”
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting,” he replied, still looking after her. “I’m just making sure I heard her right. That’s the woman I saw you with at Maple no lights, no tinsel, no reason to put one up.
Now the tree filled the corner, shining bright, and Gavin stood beside me. For the first time since I’d been back, the place felt like more than just four walls. It felt alive again.
Before I could think better of it, I leaned in and kissed him. He kissed me back, and it hit me that I hadn’t missed having a tree. I’d missed having someone to share it with.
And standing there in the glow of the lights, I knew it wasn’t about the tree at all. It was him.