Page 46 of A Love Like Christmas Time
“Good,” I whisper and squeeze his hand right back. “That’s good.”
There are studies proving that you feel safer with a person once you’ve let yourself sleep around them. And something equally monumental has shifted between Caleb and me. I feel closer to him than before. Like he might have chiseled a tiny little door in that meter-thick wall around his heart and not opened it, but left the key in it for me.
Chapter 19
Caleb
“You’re kidding me, right? Please say you are.” Bobby carefully sets his coffee mug down on the counter and stares at me as if I’ve told him that my mother turned up in Wayward Hollow. Because I did just that.
“I’m not kidding.”
“Point her out.” He turns around in his seat, pulling up the sleeves of his dark blue flannel shirt as he searches the café. “I’ve got some choice words for her.”
“She’s not here.” He seems almost disappointed when he turns back around. “Do you actually think I’d welcome her to my café with open arms, like nothing ever happened?”
He returns my pointed look with a shrug. “What do I know? You’re not exactly shoving any details of your encounter down my throat. ‘Hey Bobby, by the way, my mother is in Wayward Hollow’ isn’t giving me much to work with.”
“That’s because there aren’t any more details.” I clear my throat, then wave as Courtney leaves to get back to her flower shop. “They came in here yesterday before closing. I told them to leave. Went on a little ‘How fucking dare you’ rant, which then made them leave. That’s about it.”
“Hold on—they? I thought it was only your mother. Don’t tell me your dad is here too, because I wouldn’t have choicewordsfor him.” He cracks his knuckles.
“Do you recall the young lady who had a rather strange reaction when she came in here a while back?”
“The one who turned right back around as if she’d seen a ghost?” I nod.
“That wasn’t exactly a formal introduction, I guess, but I’m assuming we share some percentage of genes.”
Bobby closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay, let me try to get this straight. After nothing—nada, niente, Nichts, not even a letter, for the past, how many years?”
“Twenty-six.” I throw in. That still astounds me. She created a whole new human in that time, who could have finished university by now. That’s how long she’s been out of my life.
“Not only does your mother decide to pay you a visit without any kind of announcement or asking if you even want that, but they go ahead and ambush you two against one?”
“Yep,” I say, popping the ‘p.’
It’s good to hear that Bobby finds it as ridiculous as I do. I spent half the night wondering if I was overreacting. Then again, there’s not exactly a playbook for this situation. Truthfully, a part of me made peace with never knowing what happened.
The other half was spent thinking about Lauren in my arms. How she gave me what I needed without any hesitation, any judgement. Only a hug so tight it kept me together and reassurance.
“What did they expect to happen?” Bobby grumbles, his face turning red with anger.
“I have no idea,” I say with a shrug.
“Have you called Bruce?” My old therapist is the brother of a guy Bobby used to serve in the army with. The good news is he’s still practicing.
“On vacation until the new year. I already got an appointment though.”
“Good for him.” Bobby nods. “And okay, bad for you. How are you holding up?”
Before I can answer, Shawna throws her tray on the counter and takes a seat next to Bobby. A quick glance around the café reveals that the only customers remaining after the lunch rush are Lauren and Kieran and Nic, sitting in a corner and giggling over something on Nic’s phone.
“Are you okay, hon? Wait, don’t answer that—you don’t seem okay.” She gives me a worried frown and reaches for my hand, patting it reassuringly. My heart beats into my throat until I remember that she’s extremely perceptive. Different from Amanda, who seems to know better than you what’s going on in your life. Shawna’s superpower is seeing when you’re not feeling your best, though I think Bobby also gave her the gist of my past when she first started working here.
She means well, but holy shit. I hate sympathy.
“As much as can be,” I admit with a shrug, causing her to narrow her eyes.
“Okay, then you’re well enough to hand me one of those apple pie slices.” She tilts her head to stretch her neck.
