Page 49 of A Love Like Christmas Time
“It’s a family-friendly event, Lauren.”
“Shush, I’ll find a way to make losing your fault.” She grins at me.
“We could do some semi-specific ones.Best Friend. Best Brother.” I bring the conversation back to the matter at hand and make a vague gesture towards the pictures. “Something like that.”
“Oh, that’s good,” she says and furiously scribbles the idea down. Then suddenly her shoulders tense, then her head whips to me. Where does that sparkle in her eyes suddenly come from?
“I have an idea.” Her whole face slowly lights up. “Can we do dog-friendly gingerbread?”
“Yeah, no,” I quickly say and shake my head. “This is already going to be enough work and stressful as it is. I’m not adding another recipe.”
“Aww man.” She presses her lips together, pouting. “Okay. It might be for the better. I can already see myself selling dog treats to humans by accident. I’ll put it on the mood board for next year.”
“You do that,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. But secretly, my heart is pounding in my ears, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning.
Next year.
That means she’s going to be here next year. And taking part in the Wayward Hollow Christmas Market again. That she’s not leaving.
Suddenly the bell above the entrance door chimes, and my stomach drops, déjà vu gripping my lungs.
I don’t even need to lift my gaze to see who it is. Everybody who lives in Wayward Hollow knows to leave me alone once the sign is turned toclosed,even if I’m still here. The only people who occasionally ignore that are not from this town.
Lauren immediately understands what’s going on, tensing and reaching for my hand. All of a sudden, all my strength has seeped out of me. I can’t even lift my head to check which of the two came in.
I’m exhausted.
For twenty-six years, I’ve had time to make peace with the fact that my mother didn’t want me. I’ve worked hard to build myself up. Yet one appearance and the entire wall I’ve spent years building crumbles into itself with a‘Hi, Honey’and I’m right back where I was fourteen years ago.
Lauren squeezes my hand, and I force myself to take a deep breath.Breathe, Caleb.
“What do you want?” I ask and finally lift my gaze to meet the same blue eyes of my mother.
“I came to apologize,” she mutters.
Her eyes are red from crying, cheeks flushed from the cold, and she has her arms flung around herself, like they’re the only thing keeping her together.
“Your reaction was blindsiding. Yet eye-opening.” She sniffles and roughly wipes her cheeks. “Ambushing you the way we did wasn’t fair. And an apology is what I should have been leading with all along.”
“Damn right,” I mutter and squeeze Lauren’s hand tighter than a lifeline.
“I want to apologize to you,” she explains, putting her hands in the pockets of her dark blue winter coat. “And explain. If you’d like that. If you’d prefer me to leave, I will.” Her eyes are on me, but it’s obvious how much effort it is taking her. Tears keep welling up in her eyes, and she clears her throat, uncomfortably shifting her weight.
“Maybe I should…” Lauren whispers and points to the kitchen, getting up from her seat. “Give you two a minute?”
“No,” I say quickly, squeezing her hand. A little too tightly, apparently, because she grimaces. Immediately I loosen my hold. “Stay here, please.” My voice is barely louder than a whisper.
“Okay,” she says and sits back down, her thumb drawing calming circles over the back of my hand. “I’ll be right here.”
I take a deep breath.
“I know I failed you,” Emilia says, her voice breaking. Calling her ‘mom,’even if only in my head, feels unbelievably wrong. “Please believe me. Reopening old wounds wasn’t my intention at all. And forgiveness was never the expectation I came here with.” She draws a deep breath. “I realize that some things, including what I did—” Her voice breaks, and she needs a second to blink back tears, her lip quivering. “—cannot be forgiven. But I thought you deserved the chance for answers.”
I glance at Lauren. Her whole body is vibrating, cheeks red, and when I catch her eyes, I almost recoil because she’s fuckingpissed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this angry. Not even when Nic’s ex demanded a settlement after cheating on her with her sister. Her jaw is set, her free arm crossed in front of her chest, fingers digging into the fabric of her sweater, and her breaths are pointed, sharp, as if she’s fighting with herself to remain calm.
“Why?” is all I can press out.
Emilia nods, then slowly walks closer to the counter.
