Chapter 16 And to All a Good Night
And to All a Good Night
Hours later, we’d been to church, lit candles, sung Christmas carols, feasted around the Meyers’ table, laughed and told stories, and tolerated Steve’s inability to understand anything the first time he heard it, and now we were relaxed and reclined in the living room.
I sat next to my mom while Sam nodded along to Steve’s insurance salesman woes.
“I’m surprised you’re back home, Holly Jolly,” my mother said, a cup of boozy eggnog dangling precariously from her fingertips. “You couldn’t wait to get out of this damn town. Now here you are.”
I had always hated her nickname for me, although it was better than Cooper yelling “Balls!” every time he saw me.
“It’s not so bad, though,” I said thoughtfully, my voice soft, tired, a little drunk. “I was just always afraid of . . .” Maybe I was more than a little drunk.
My mother linked her elbow through mine and pulled me closer to her, so that my head rested on her shoulder.
We hadn’t sat like this in years. I hadn’t realized how tense things had gotten between us while I was with Hudson.
And even though Sam should have intensified the distance, he was so kind, so easy to talk to, so .
. . gracious with everyone, that he, miraculously, eased the rigidity and strife that had built between us.
This was the most relaxed I’d been around her since I could remember.
She made a humming noise in the back of her throat. “You didn’t want to end up like me. Is that right?”
“No, Mom, that’s not what I meant.”
“I love my life, Holly. I love it. It’s fun and spontaneous and it’s perfect for me.
But that’s why it’s my life and not yours.
You could stay in Denver or move in with Hudson, or move home here, and as long as you’re living your life and filling it with things you love and people who bring you joy, you are at no risk of becoming someone else. ”
“I didn’t mean that,” I told her seriously. “I’m not afraid of becoming you.” At her knowing smile, I repeated myself. “Really, I’m not. But I also don’t want to step on your toes. And I don’t want you to step on mine. The last year I lived here with you felt . . . strained.”
She nodded as if she knew exactly what I meant. “I promise not to kiss Sam ever again.”
My cheeks heated with emotion and mortification and secondhand embarrassment. “Why did you?”
“I was drunk?” Her tone was a question, evidence of what I’d always suspected—she didn’t know why.
She claimed to love her life and live it how she wanted, but I also knew she wasn’t perfectly at peace.
Christmas Eve Steve wouldn’t be here if she was.
At my frown, she added, “It was a shitty thing to do. I’d known you were in love with him.
Had been for as long as anyone could remember.
I just . . . I don’t know. Sometimes I do shitty things. ”
I almost laughed at her version of an apology. “Don’t do it again,” I told her sternly.
She looked at him, eyes glazed over from the length of Steve’s insurance saga, but still happily sitting there, fully engaged.
“He won’t let me get within ten feet of him.
He’s smitten, Holls. Over the moon.” She leaned down and kissed me on the top of my head.
“And I wouldn’t dream of it anyway. I want you happy, my love.
I want you home. Sam seems to give you both of those things. ”
I nodded, smiling. She was right. Things were still new with us, but they were also so very old. “I do want to stay here, I think. In Mistletoe. I’m ready to be home again.”
“Good,” she whispered, pulling me even tighter. “Now my life really is perfect.”
We fell into easy conversation after that. Eventually Steve and Sam joined us again, and we all learned more about insurance policies than any of us ever wanted to know.
Eventually, Sam took my hand and pulled me to my feet. We left the living room and meandered down a quiet hall. The night was wrapping up. It was almost midnight, and it would really be Christmas soon.
“Sorry,” he murmured as we settled against the wall. “If we stayed there any longer, I was in danger of buying a policy from Steve.”
I laughed, unable to help myself. “Which one? Home? Car? Pet?”
“Who knows. I might have ended up bundling all three.”
Laughter spilled out of me easily, the dancing fizz of a freshly opened soda. “Oh no! Not all three.”
His green eyes twinkled as he leaned closer, reaching up to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind my ear.
“I love you.” I jerked at his confession, so completely stunned by it.
He let out the softest, gentlest chuckle.
“Is that too soon? I’m sorry, I just . .
.” His gaze flicked up to where the mistletoe hung over our heads, the same one we’d first kissed under.
“It’s true, Holly Haden. I love you. I have for a long time now.
And I might have been willing to let you go before, but now I .
. . now I can’t. You’re mine.” He leaned forward and pressed the sweetest kiss to my mouth. “And I am yours.”
“I love you too.” I held his gaze and let the last of my fears wash away. I did love him, and in some weird way, my mom’s terrible apology had given me the confidence to tell him. I wanted to live a life I loved. I wanted to fill it with people I loved.
His smile was beautiful and big and full of wonder. Twinkly lights glistened all around us. Christmas music played softly, and happy conversation filled the background. And there above us was the mistletoe.
He leaned in and kissed me. This time there was nothing between us, nothing but love and anticipation for what was to come—two adults with a lifetime of feelings between them.
I loved him. And he loved me. And here we were, just two people beneath a mistletoe in a town that would hold their happily ever after.
“I looked for a job today,” I told him when we’d pulled apart after a while.
A question played across his face. “Did you?”
“Did you know, Mistletoe Elementary is looking for a second-grade teacher?”
His whole body lit up from within, happiness and anticipation and the living embodiment of hope. “You’re kidding?”
“I called Monika today. Mrs. Thiessen is leaving at the end of the year. Her husband got a job in Topeka.”
“What are the chances?” He was grinning, and I was falling in love with him all over again.
“The only problem is . . . I’m not sure I want to take it.”
His hands slipped to my waist, pulling me closer. “And why wouldn’t you take it, Ms. Haden? From what I’ve seen, you’ve done a fabulous job with the first graders.”
I held his adoring gaze, my tone turning serious. “Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? Next year these first graders are going to be second graders. And I’m going to have to face a whole new year with a certain Brody Perkins.”
He laughed at the news, his head tipped back, his whole body radiating joy. “Don’t you worry, Holly. A brand-new state-of-the-art whatever isn’t the only trick I have up my sleeve.”
“It’s not?” I wrinkled my nose at him. “It’s going to be hard to beat.”
“It is, that’s true. But he’ll want something new next year, and I think you’ll find that I’m very motivated to keep my girl happy and stress-free. Especially from snot-nosed kids who are terrified of me and Santa.”
We kissed again, and then he took me home to his place.
When we woke up, it was Christmas morning, and a sparkling inch of snow lay on the ground, turning the outside world white and glistening.
We sipped coffee around his fireplace and talked about everything.
From the past to the future to the gifts we’d bought each other—both of us having found the other a pair of amateur ice skates at the local secondhand sporting goods store.
Under the lights of the tree, in a town called Mistletoe I’d thought I’d left behind, he kissed me and kissed me and kissed me. “I love you, Holly,” he’d say. That day and all the ones to come.