7. Violet
Idon’t tell Ethan, but I look into properties for his Christmas tree farm around Spruce Crossing. It’s not an easy feat, even with all my access as a real estate agent, mostly because I suddenly find myself overwhelmed with inquiries on Friday before we’re set to go to the festival.
One of my co-workers comments on the influx of calls incoming as we head out for the day.
“I’ve never had such a busy day,” he remarks as we walk to our respective cars. “I don’t know what’s going on.”
I am also perplexed by all the interest in properties around Spruce Crossing from out-of-towners, but I think little of it, my mind on the upcoming weekend with Ethan.
He calls me as I’m leaving work, his deep voice filling my car when I drive home to my townhouse.
“Are you ready to go to the tree-lighting ceremony tonight?” he asks brightly.
“Are you?” I reply teasingly.
“I made dinner reservations at Wild Sage first.” I blink at the unexpected words, my thumb playing with the engagement ring nervously.
“You did?”
“Yeah, but they’re a bit early,” Ethan says. “It was that or too late, and we’d miss the lighting of the tree. The place is booked solid.”
“Early is fine,” I reply slowly, surprised he had the foresight to book dinner at all. “What time?”
“Five. I’ll pick you up in an hour, okay?”
I glance at the clock and agree. “Sure.”
A tingle of excitement rushes through me as I step harder on the gas to get home and get ready. I take extra care with my appearance this evening, donning a white sweater and a pair of snug-fitting blue jeans. Pinning my dark hair up in a bun, I put on mascara and a dab of pink lipstick, spraying a splash of expensive perfume over my wrists and neck. Critically, I stare at myself in the mirror, wondering what Ethan sees when he looks at me. Does he still see his long-time friend, or is he seeing someone else like I’m seeing someone else in him?
The doorbell rings, shaking off my questions, and I turn away from the hall mirror to let Ethan inside. He looks amazing, too, his heavy, fancy coat unbuttoned to show a stylish shirt and jeans. He wears sensible footwear for trekking through the park and advises me to do the same with a grin.
“I don’t want you tripping,” he warns, and I snort.
“I won’t wear heels in the park,” I promise, tearing my eyes away from his attractive getup.
I put on my boots, and we head out, Ethan offering me his arms down the walkway. His head turns toward me several times, and his stare makes me blush.
“You look beautiful,” he tells me when we’re walking toward the park.
“So do you—er, handsome. You look nice,” I babble, and he laughs.
“Thanks.”
Downtown is already packed with cars and people, the sun mostly set behind the mountains as a bitter cold settles in. All the streetlights pop on with the festive holiday lights outside the shops and restaurants on Main Street when Ethan and I walk up to the restaurant.
“It’s going to be a madhouse tonight,” he comments, taking my arm. “But the Winter Wonderland Festival always is.”
The restaurant hasn’t been here long, but its contemporary menu and hip atmosphere have drawn attention from all over Pine Tree County and beyond. Despite the early hour, it’s already full, and the hostess seats us at one of the rustic booths in a private corner at the back. The menu is farm-to-table, and all the food is locally sourced.
“Hi, guys!” A kid I don’t recognize appears at our table, his cell phone in hand. “Can I take your picture?”
“Absolutely not,” Ethan growls in confusion.
“Why?” I demand.
“For the newspaper,” he insists, snapping the photo anyway. “You haven’t put your engagement announcement in the Spruce Crossing Gazette yet.”
My face flames as he continues to take our picture, and Ethan and I gape at him.
“Thanks!” he chirps, bouncing away.
“He’s right,” Ethan agrees, picking up the menu. “We haven’t announced our engagement in the paper yet.”
“What is this? 1920?” I sputter. “Do people even do that anymore?”
Ethan smirks and reads the menu, but I realize that he’s not bothered by the idea of our “engagement” hitting the newspaper.
“Ethan…”
He barely looks up. “Hm?”
“We’re not really engaged.”
His face shadows, but he says nothing as I continue to stare at him, my heart thudding in my chest.
What are we doing here?
I don’t push the issue and instead pick up my menu and begin to read it, but I can’t focus, the shine of the ring distracting me greatly. Are we getting too comfortable pretending in our roles? How much longer is this going to go on?
After dinner,we walk to Spruce Crossing Park for the tree lighting ceremony, which starts at seven. Hundreds of people have come out for the festivities, the streets alive with laughter and good cheer, children rushing around with glow sticks as parents struggle to keep track of them.
“Hot chocolate?” Ethan suggests, nodding at Mr. Jensen’s notorious booth. The line is already long, but Mr. Jensen is a pro, and the line is moving quickly.
“Sure,” I agree as we get in line.
“You don’t need to wait, too,” he laughs. “Go find us a good spot by the tree. We need a good selfie together.”
“You sure?” I ask uncertainly, but he nods.
I barely step away from the line when I stumble in the snow, slipping forward.
Seriously, Violet, I curse myself, but I don’t have time to finish chiding myself when Ethan’s arms lock around my waist, and he catches me yet again. My head jolts up, my face landing inches from his.
My breath catches as I realize our lips are even, his eyes widening as he comes to the same realization at the same time. Slowly, my gaze rakes over his face, his arms tightening around me, and my pulse quickens.
Oh, my gosh…. he’s going to kiss me. Finally?—
“There you go,” he says, standing me on my feet and releasing me. “Watch yourself.”
He turns away to return to the hot chocolate stand as I stare after him, disappointment seizing my heart and wringing it dry.
I guess that answers that, I think miserably. All the little subtle feelings I thought we have been feeling have been totally one-sided. I have been reading into it far too much.
Tears of humiliation burn behind my eyes, but I blink them away quickly before I let them fall. It’s not Ethan’s fault he’s not attracted to me. This has always been a show.
Inhaling, I spin away before he can see my face and carefully make my way back toward the unlit tree.
“Violet?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and turn to look at a handsome man grinning at me. I take a minute to place him. It dawns on me—it’s the client who stood me up recently.
“Oh!” I choke, struggling to gather my composure after being rebuked by Ethan. “Hello!”
“Great to see you here!” he chuckles. “Honestly, I’ve been trying to build up the nerve to call you again.”
Baffled, I stare at him. “To reschedule the viewing?” I reply, confused. “You should have called. Things come up all the time. I’m not upset about it.”
He shakes his head and lowers his eyes. “The truth is, I… I hoped you might go out to dinner with me. The other day, I didn’t show up because I didn’t know how you felt about dating clients. I didn’t want to make it weird by having you show me a house and then asking you out.”
Blood drains from my face, and my eyes shoot toward Ethan, who remains in line for the hot chocolate.
“Sorry, I realize this isn’t the most opportune time for this,” he apologizes. “You don’t have to respond right now, but you have my number. Call me if you’d like to go out sometime. I think you’re amazing.”
“Okay,” I respond.
He grins at me and backs away into the crowd, leaving me dumbfounded and more confused than I’ve ever been in my whole life. The weight of the engagement ring suddenly feels like a leaden brick on my finger.
Ethan meets my eyes across the lawn and smiles, but for the first time in my life, I can’t return his grin. It’s about time to end this charade and move on with our lives before someone gets hurt. Because that someone is apt to be me.