Page 3 of A Love Like Christmas Time
“Are you… happy?”
She lets out a deep sigh, leaning her back against the counter, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s head.
“That’s a deep question.” She zones out for a moment, her eyes going distant as she thinks about her answer. “And it doesn’t have a straightforward answer. It’s not about me anymore, you know? It’s about them.” Her arms tighten around her child, and her eyes snap back to me. “The full answer is complicated, but let me say it like this: As long as they’re cared for and happy, so am I.”
I set down the plate and turn to her, leaning my hands against the counter beside me and watching her.
That’s the girl who used to invite me to sleepovers. Who I used to eat popcorn with until we got nauseous while watching Twilight. Who I used to dress up as princesses with. One of my most vivid memories with her is lying in front of the TV and listening to her tell me about all those grand dreams she had. Curing cancer, going to space, adopting twenty children to give them a better life than the foster system.
Now there are dark bags under her eyes, even shining through her concealer, that spark, all of that ambition… She doesn’t seem to carry it with her anymore. Instead, exhaustion radiates from her. It’s in every slow movement, every yawn she tries to hide by biting the inside of her cheeks.
Is this what ‘being happy’ is once you reach adulthood? Putting others first for the rest of your life, even at the expense of your own wellbeing?
Can that really be fulfilling enough?
Then again, who am I to question whether this is the life she wants? Maybe her ambitions changed. Maybe she has new dreams.
I’m worried, though. I’ve heard so many stories of stay-at-home wives who lose themselves and feel trapped in a hopeless situation because they lack support.
“You know, I’m only a phone call away, right? That you can always let me know if there’s anything you need?” Her eyes soften, and she gives me a soft nod.
“I know.” Finally, her mouth tugs into a small smile. “Thank you.”
Her daughter wakes up with a big yawn, wiggling in her hold until Maisie sets her down. Once back upright, she stares at me, opening her mouth as if she wants to say more. But that’s when her husband pops his head around the kitchen door.
“How long are you planning to stay in there? Jack is hungry.”
“I’ll be right out.” She grabs the plate from the counter and shoots me an apologetic smile. I watch her leave with a pit in my stomach.
Maybe being happy is not for me. At least not if this is the definition of it. But hopefully, being ‘content’ is.
Then again, am I content? My work hours are crazy. Every two weeks I’m all but overdosing myself on coffee thanks to jetlag. Almost every day, I worry about letters from strangers who think we’re soulmates.
With a sigh, I grab my plate and scoop some salad onto it. Which is a generous word, considering it’s about eighty percent croutons and dressing, twenty percent greens and vegetables.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes in my pocket with a message from my best friend.
Nic: *Picture*
Nic: OMG Lauren!!! I said yes!!!
Fuck. I mean good for her.
I shouldn’t have driven myself. I need a drink.
Chapter 1
Lauren
“Here you go,” Caleb says gruffly and sets down a mug in front of me, filled to the brim with a nice, hot latte macchiato.
A grin stretches my lips into a wide grin as I glance up to meet his signature frown.
“Thank you,” I say, honey-sweet, and pick up the little cookie he put on the saucer, popping it into my mouth. Then I reach for my bag.
His eyes narrow, and he crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I told you not to bring this pumpkin spice syrup shit in here,” he scolds me, but it only widens my grin. That tone might have worked on me for the first two hours upon meeting him. But now that I’ve lived in this little Hallmark-esque town called Wayward Hollow for almost three months already, I’ve grown immune to his bad moods.
Nay, dare I say, I see it as a challenge now. Deep inside that grumpy café owner with his blue eyes and chocolate brown hair with the cutest curls that’s usually hidden under his backward cap, is a sweet guy.
