Chapter 22 A Recipe For Goodbye #2
Street lights flared to life and came beaming in through the kitchen window.
But it was almost midnight—the street lamps were already supposed to be aglow.
Eliza’s heart took a leap in her chest, but she didn’t dare pull the curtains back for fear that she wouldn’t see what she’d hoped for.
Her heart simply couldn’t take it. At this point, it might’ve been more realistic if it were Santa Claus who visited the cottage than Lachlan.
He was already well on his way back home by now.
“Do you think he was going to tell you before he left, if it hadn’t been for you confronting him?”
“I don’t know,” Eliza shrugged. “The house packed up his things in front of me and let him leave, so I’m assuming it knew he was planning on it. Just didn’t know how to properly tell me.”
Bang!
A car door slammed shut outside. Puffcake snapped his head up from inside his mixing bowl bed.
“House?” repeated Piper. “What do you mean the house let him leave?”
Eliza didn’t answer right away. She stayed frozen in her spot, mobile still pressed to her ear, heart racing in her chest. Her eyes flicked to the door—still unlocked.
Somewhere in her mind, she’d left it open for him to come back, even though she hadn’t truly expected him to. But now, her breath caught.
What if it wasn’t him? What if it were someone else? A stranger or an actual serial killer this time? The final twist to a very long, very strange holiday.
But would that honestly be more realistic than Lachlan coming back? And was that seriously where Eliza’s standards were, now? Expecting less out of Lachlan than a murderer?
Jingle.
The doorknob turned. Opened.
She couldn't believe her eyes. Dark, brunette hair and her favorite pair of chocolate brown eyes slowly came from around the doorway.
“I gotta go,” Eliza whispered.
Piper sputtered. “Is everything okay?”
Click. Eliza ended the call.
He stood just inside the doorway, his cheeks flushed from the cold and his hair tousled from the wind. They both stared at each other. Puffcake sat in the middle, his round eyes darting between the two of them.
Lachlan was back.
They opened their mouths at the same time.
“I–”
“I didn’t—”
They stopped. An awkward silence stretched between them. The hum of the oven. The crackle of dying embers in the fireplace. The patter of melted snow from Lachlan’s coat. It was like the entire house was holding its breath, waiting. Expectant.
Lachlan held out his hand. “You first.”
“No,” she shook her head. “You.”
He shifted his weight and ran a hand through his hair, looking to the floor. “I just wanted you to know that I didn’t want to leave.”
Eliza furrowed her brows. “But you did leave.”
“I know.” He blew out a breath. “I’m sorry.
I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to respect your boundaries when you told me I should leave.
I really just wanted to grab you up and kiss you, but when the house packed up my things …
I thought that was it. I was sure you truly didn’t care to see me ever again.
But I had to come back.” His voice suddenly sounded like gravel. “I just had to.”
“You ... had to?” she repeated.
He nodded.
“What, did the house forget to pack up a pair of your favorite holiday socks?”
“No.” He raked his fingers through his hair again. “I had to see you. Even if it was the last time. Even if you screamed or kicked me out, I knew I had to at least try.”
He inched forward, and Eliza didn’t move. She stayed rooted to the spot, her heart pounding. Step by step, he slowly closed the space between them. Each step felt like he was closing an impossible distance, like it would stitch back the miles that had grown between them in a span of a day.
Lachlan’s hand twitched at his side. He was close enough to touch her, and he looked like he was physically agonized by the restraint.
“I never got to tell you what I wanted for Christmas,” he said softly.
“You can’t be serious,” Eliza muttered.
He gave a small smile, sheepish. Nervous. Sad, yet hopeful. “Ask me,” he said.
She crossed her arms and forced her voice to remain level. “What is it that you want?”
His eyes searched hers.
“I want a shot. With you. No questions asked. No anxious thoughts or self-sabotage. No over-thinking. Just … a shot. A real chance.” He swallowed hard, “I want you to be my girlfriend.”
Eliza just stared at him. The weight of his words settled heavily between them. For a moment, she didn’t speak. Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, her arms still folded over her heart like armor.
She wanted, more than anything, to fall into him. To give up the fight, to surrender to her feelings regardless of how terrifying they were. But Eliza saw it all: laughing and kissing the night of the contest, then she saw the door swinging shut behind him as he departed without a word.
He said it wasn’t because he wanted to leave, but that he was respecting her wishes. And granted, she had told him to leave …
“I want to believe you, but I’m scared,” she admitted. Why did it take so much just to speak the truth? It was so much easier to protect herself. To tell him that he needed to leave, even though all she really wanted was for him to stay. She wanted him to stay and fight with her. For her.
“I am too.” He took a careful step closer.
“And I promise, I’ll never make you wonder if I walked out that door on my own volition again.
This isn’t just some holiday fling that I’ll forget as soon as I rev up an engine or board a train.
I don’t just want you for Christmas—I want you every day after, too.
” His hand rose to her cheek, brushing a stray blonde hair away from her face.
His fingers lingered there, his eyes drifting to her lips, then back to her eyes.
At length, Lachlan raised his brows. “So can I have you, Snow?”
She blinked back tears, her heart feeling like it’d been thawed from the fortress of ice she’d incessantly kept frozen up around it since her breakup.
Lachlan had swooped in and changed it all, showing her what it was like to have someone actually care.
Because even in their best moments, Davis had never fought like this for Eliza.
She was always too afraid to speak her mind around him for fear she’d rock the boat too hard and he’d send her overboard.
With Lachlan, she’d had no energy left. She hadn’t been searching for love, or anything romantic of the sort.
The cottage still brought them together, and she’d been entirely herself.
Still, Lachlan chose her. Despite it all; despite the baggage, the failed business, the sappy baking escapade, her closed-off heart.
He’d taken it all. And he still said yes. He still came back.
At last, Eliza nodded. It was such a small gesture that if Lachlan hadn’t been searching for it, he might’ve missed it.
A smile flooded across his face. He leaned in, tentative, searching her eyes for any apprehension. His lips left hers with a gentleness she’d never known before; it caught her off guard. The kiss was soft at first, careful. Like either of them could shatter the moment if they made one wrong move.
It deepened, just a little, and she tilted into him, allowing her guard to drop a little lower.
Eliza turned to the Gingerbread Snap Dragon, still in his usual spot. His gumdrop eyes blinked up at her longingly, silently pleading, ‘Please don’t forget me.’
Her heart twisted. She didn’t want to leave this place without him. Not after everything.
“What about you, Puffcake?” asked Eliza. “Can I have you?”
Puffcake’s eyes grew incredibly round; it looked like he was giving her his equivalent of the puppy-dog stare. Then, he gave a joyful snort as he wagged his tail so fast it knocked over the jar of coconut flakes.
Eliza laughed through the lump that had formed in her throat. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
He bounced to his paws, his biscuit limbs shaking with excitement, already eager to follow her to the ends of the earth—or at least out the front door.
Then, Eliza returned her attention back to Lachlan. “You sure you want this?” She raised her brows. “The sentient gingerbread and my weird baking obsession?”
“Especially those things.” Lachlan smiled down at her, his voice unwavering.
They kissed again, this time warmer and deeper than before. Sweet like honey, and everything she’d been too afraid to say out loud to him until now. Because things between them were just a maybe or an impossibly hopeful dream.
It was a yes.
She couldn’t possibly know for certain that they were endgame, but she hoped with all her heart. And that was a start.
She allowed herself to fully melt into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck. Puffcake gave an excited screech before blowing smoke in the shape of a heart. He fluttered his tiny icing wings over to the hearth and settled himself there, his back turned away from them to give them privacy.
Before she knew it, Lachlan was grabbing her by the back of her knees and lifting her up onto the kitchen island. His hands came up, tangling in her hair, pulling ever-so-slightly to tilt her head toward the ceiling.
He attacked her in a series of swift kisses all along her cheeks, forehead, chin, and nose. Eliza erupted into a fit of laughter, her heart feeling like it might burst right out of her chest from the pressure.
The old grandfather clock struck midnight.
Ding, dong. Ding, dong. Ding, dong. Twelve times. It was Christmas.
When they finally pulled apart, Eliza was breathless. She rested her forehead against his, unable to stop grinning like a madman.
Lachlan placed the gentlest of kisses on her forehead and whispered, “Merry Christmas, Snow.”