Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jenna
I can’t decide if I’m more annoyed that Aaron’s not as on my side as I thought he was or that he still doesn’t understand what I’m trying to do.
I guess maybe I’m equally annoyed at both things, and the Grinch comments plus the complaints I overheard the other day echo in my head.
He’s clearly not the only one who still thinks I have some deep-seated desire to destroy the town events.
When we get to my car, I pass him my keys. Part of me wants to decline his chivalry and just suffer through the cold so I can be alone with my thoughts. But I also really hate being cold.
When he climbs back in, he brings a gust of frigid air with him that makes me huddle into the blankets he piled on me earlier.
He chuckles at the sight of me, and I stick out my tongue at him.
“Don’t laugh,” I say, sounding pouty. I feel a little pouty, though, so I guess I can’t help it. “It’s cold.”
“I’m sorry for laughing at you,” he says, reaching over and rubbing my shoulder. “You’re really cute, though.”
“Cute for a Grinch, huh?”
He sobers, looking at me closely. “I’ve never thought you were a Grinch.”
I raise an eyebrow to express my disbelief. “From where I’m sitting, you were basically the ringleader of the Karen brigade. And they’ve literally called me a Grinch.”
“Okay,” he says, holding up a hand, “I really wish you’d stop calling me a Karen.”
I open my mouth to say something snotty, but when I meet his eyes, I let out a sigh instead.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. You’ve apologized, and I’ve accepted your apology.
I need to stop throwing that in your face.
It’s not fair, especially when you’ve at least acknowledged that all my ideas aren’t terrible. ”
“And just because I don’t think every single one of your ideas are amazing and life changing, doesn’t mean I don’t like or respect you as a person.
It’s always been obvious to me that you care about the event.
It just …” He pauses, resting his hands on the steering wheel and staring out the windshield.
I wait, letting him find the right words.
“It just rubs a lot of people the wrong way when someone new comes in and seems like they want to change everything about an event that’s been a staple for decades.
” He looks at me. “It isn’t about you. Anyone would meet the same resistance, especially since you immediately jumped in to changing things pretty much the minute Cynthia officially retired. ”
Once again, I open my mouth to say something, but he holds up a hand, forestalling my automatic defense.
“Look at it from our perspective for a minute. If you were here, participating on the committee for years, and some new person comes in, ostensibly in charge, and acts like she wants to change everything you’ve always done? How would that make you feel?”
It’s not actually that difficult for me to imagine.
My senior year of college, I was given an “assistant” to train to take over planning our sorority events since I’d be graduating.
She was excited and optimistic and full of all these big ideas, some more realistic than others.
It was nice—at first. But constantly shutting down her beyond-our-budget ideas and just unrealistic desires on top of trying to guide her through the plans and procedures I’d spent the last two years developing and refining felt …
bad. Like all my hard work was worthless and stupid, that she, with her zero years of experience, should know better than me.
I swallow hard. “I understand. I’ve been in a similar position before.
However”—I hold up a finger, needing to prove at least one small point—“I have to say that since I’ve been interviewed, vetted, and qualified, plus I worked closely with Cynthia for the last few months, I think I should be given a little bit of trust.”
He grunts. “While I can understand why you might feel that way, I’m not sure everyone else would agree. From their perspective, you’re a young outsider, coming in to take over Jake and Mara Daniels’ event.”
A squawk of protest comes out. “I’m not trying to take over anything! And how is it their event?”
He points at me. “See? And that right there is all part of the problem. Most of the people on that committee have been on it from day one. They were there when Jake and Mara proposed ChristmasFest. They’ve been here for all the growing pains over the years.
They treated Cynthia nearly the same as you when she took over the planning.
It was Mara’s baby for almost ten years before she decided she needed someone else to do that so she could focus on her kids, her store, and being Mrs. Claus.
She’d been burning herself out doing everything for too long.
And she hand-picked Cynthia to take over the planning.
Even so, people were annoyed when Cynthia wanted to change things.
Sure, eventually they got over it. And they will with you too.
But you have to give them time. Try not to change too much, too soon.
Especially if there’s no actual harm in keeping some things the way they are. ”
“Okay, fine. I can see that. But you have to admit that the hue and cry over the ribbon colors was ridiculous. Everyone, including Cynthia, approved that order! It’s not like I was going rogue there.
I got the closest I could to what we had.
But you know that color representation online isn’t always accurate.
And in my opinion, the darker red is pretty.
I don’t see why anyone would get upset about it being more garnet than ruby anyway. ”
“I agree. It is a silly thing to get that worked up about.”
My jaw drops again, and I point at him. “You were one of the ones complaining! How can you turn around now and say it’s silly?”
He shrugs, and a grin splits his face. “I was being petty. I was still mad about your suggestion of bringing in trees from another farm and also you winning on the potted trees.”
I make another squawk of protest. “You were just bitching to be petty?”
Holding up his hands in surrender, he shakes his head.
“I never claimed to be perfect. I’m sorry for making your life more difficult for no reason.
And you were right about the potted trees.
I was being cranky and overreacting about them.
They look wonderful in the space, and I think raffling them off will be a fun new tradition. ”
I grin. “So you’re already planning on donating potted trees for next year?”
He narrows his eyes at me. “You paid the difference this year. Why wouldn’t you do that again?”
My grin spreads wider. “I’ll have to run the numbers, but we might be able to come to some agreement.”
“Oh, good,” he says, a little sarcastically. “I’m so glad to hear it.”
I glance over at my car and notice the windows aren’t at all fogged anymore. Loath as I am to leave my nest of blankets in Aaron’s warm truck, I should probably go home. “Thank you,” I say, turning back to face Aaron. “For dinner. And for repotting the trees. And for helping me stay warm.”
His face softens. “You’re welcome. It was my pleasure. If you’re up for it, I’d like to do it again sometime. Dinner, or …” He shrugs, leaving the blank for me to fill in with a suggestion.
“I’d like that.” Slowly, I pull the blanket off my upper half, trying to fold it up, but it’s difficult in the confines of the truck.
“Here, I’ll take that,” he murmurs, holding out his hand. I hand him both blankets, then grip the door handle, bracing myself for the cold. “I’ll walk to you to your car,” he says, and I can’t help but giggle.
“It’s so far,” I quip. “How ever will you survive?”
He laughs, opening his door and hopping out, coming around to open my door for me. Holding out his hand, he helps me down again, but this time, he doesn’t let go of my hand, instead stepping closer. “Can I kiss you goodnight?”
Sucking in a breath, I whisper, “Yes.” He examines my face, as though to confirm that I’m giving an honest answer. Then he leans down and kisses me. His lips are soft and warm, and I can faintly feel his stubble.
The kiss is quick, and when he pulls away, the full force of the cold feels like it slaps me in the face. I shiver.
He rubs my arms, giving me a warm smile. “Let’s get you out of the cold and into your car.” He pivots, opening my car door for me. And once I climb in, he leans down, tucks a stray strand of hair back under my hat, and kisses my cheek. “I’ll text you,” he says.
“Okay.” The word comes out faint, and I hope he doesn’t take that as disinterest because at this point it’s more shock than anything.
I’m still vaguely astonished that in the course of a few days we’ve gone from enemies, with him questioning my ability to take care of potted plants and run an event, to going on a date and kissing.
Life is weird.
“Night,” I say more firmly, giving him a smile.
He smiles back. “Night.” Then he closes my car door and hustles back around to climb into his truck.
We both just sit in the parking lot for a second, and I decide he must be waiting for me to leave.
So I buckle up and pull out of my spot, watching him in my rearview mirror.
He leaves as soon as I do, turning and driving the other direction, toward his tree farm, while I go home to my one-bedroom apartment.
When I get inside, I feel … lonely, I guess.
Spending the evening with Aaron has only served to show how alone I’ve felt since I moved here.
Since before I moved here, if I’m honest. Even when I was still with Ian, I was lonely.
Our lives had diverged quite a bit by then—he was in school, and I was working.
Even when we were both home, he was often reading or writing, and I’d work on an upcoming wedding or party I was planning.
Now that I look back, I realize he thought my job was frivolous and silly.
While he, of course, was doing deep and meaningful work.
Who cares that events and milestones are important places where people connect?
That’s silly, obviously, no matter how much work goes into it.
Caring about napkin colors and floral arrangements?
What does that matter when you could be reading and thinking about existential dread?
Only depressing things are serious, after all.
And if I ever tried to defend my work or its importance, he’d do the verbal equivalent of a head pat while basically saying, “It’s so cute that you think so,” in not so many words.
I didn’t want to see the condescension for what it was because that would mean reevaluating my entire relationship.
In a fucked up way, he did me a favor by leaving me behind.
Like Amanda said when I told her, the trash took itself out.
Too bad he didn’t bother doing that a long time ago instead of wasting years of my life.
But I suppose if he had, I wouldn’t have been able to move to Arcadian Falls because this job wouldn’t have been available then.
And I’m pretty sure my years of experience with event planning as a paid job is what cinched the gig.
I doubt they would’ve looked twice at my resume fresh out of college.
It still sucks knowing that he found someone new while I’m still lonely.
Sure, yes, I just had a lovely date that ended with a goodnight kiss.
But my apartment is still stacked with partly unpacked boxes, and I haven’t even bothered to decorate for Christmas yet.
In my hurry to move, I left all of the decorations I’d amassed during our relationship behind with the exception of a few sentimental ornaments I’ve had since I was a kid.
But I don’t have a tree, and I haven’t even had time to get one yet.
Cynthia made me promise that I’d take at least a little time off during ChristmasFest. “You’ll need to pace yourself,” she told me before she retired.
“It’s a marathon, and you’ll need to take breaks.
No, you’ll never be fully off the clock because if you’re not there, inevitably someone will call you about some emergency or other that they should really be able to handle themselves.
But regardless, take at least one day off per week. I recommend Mondays.”
Maybe this Monday, I’ll go out and buy myself a tree.