Page 97 of A Love Like Christmas Time
The knot in my throat thickens, and the air pierces my lungs like a thousand tiny needles.
Breathe, Caleb. Count to ten.
Thoughts tumble through my head faster than a rollercoaster with each step I take towards the gazebo. Mom waits for me, hope flickering in her eyes. Yet her shoulders are tight, raised up to her ears, and her gaze darts around, as though she’s searching for the quickest escape path. And I get it. I wish I could escape this conversation. However, it is long overdue.
I come to a stop in front of her. We stare at each other, the tension heavy in the air.
“So…” I mumble before changing my mind, but I don’t even find the words to continue.
“We’ll be leaving tomorrow,” she whispers, staring at the ground. “Before we do, I wanted to say again, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be pushy or force you into an answer. I just—” She lets the end of her sentence hang in the air.
“It’s okay,” I say, watching the snow on the ground as I draw a circle in it with the tip of my shoe. “I can’t give you an answer,” I admit. Her eyes jump to mine, tears welling up, and I quickly add, “Not yet. You’ve destroyed a lot, and apparently, I’ve kept it together with painter’s tape instead of welding it back together. I need more time.”
“This is a lot, I know,” she says softly. Her fingers twitch, as if she’s stopping herself from reaching for me.
“My therapist is on vacation until the new year.” She stands completely still, seemingly forgetting to breathe. “And I need some guidance on this.” I point between the two of us. “If I let you back in, I need to do it properly and not storm ahead too early.”
“And this therapist has helped you before?” she asks, her voice breaking. I nod. “Good. I’m glad.” She swallows her emotions and quickly wipes a tear from her cheek.
“Yeah, I had a lot to work through.” I clear my throat.
“Can we stay in touch?” she asks, and I swallow hard.
Such an easy question at first glance. But it feels too early.
“Dawn has my number. Once I’m ready, I’m sure she’ll connect us,” I tell her. “That’s the best I can do right now.”
“It’s more than I could have hoped for.” Her face slowly lights up. “I’d really like to hug you,” she breathes out. Damn, the way her voice breaks goes straight through my heart. Without a word, I step closer, and she opens her arms. And for the first time in two and a half decades, I step into a hug from my mom.
It feels familiar. Yet so strange. She smells exactly the way I remember her, of her coconut shampoo and the slightest hint of vanilla. Her hand rubs circles over my shoulder, the exact same way she used to when I was little.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice heavy with emotion.
The knot in my throat tightens, and my eyes sting with unshed tears. I quickly blink them away. Breaking the hug might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
“Thank you for coming here,” I say truthfully and take a step back. We stare at each other, emotions heavy, our eyes speaking without another word.
“Have a good Christmas, Caleb,” Mom whispers with a small smile on her lips.
“You too,” I reply. “Merry Christmas.”
I turn around and walk back to our booth. Lauren is waiting for me, worry tightening her expression.
“How did it go?”
“As well as it could have.”
I slide my fingers between hers, lift her hand to my mouth, and press a kiss against her glove.
“Are you still okay to stay over tonight? Or do you need some time to decompress? I can ask Kieran for a ride if I need to.”
Before the question even fully registers, I find myself nodding vigorously. My stomach is bubbling with emotions that can’t quite decide what they want to be: sad, happy, hopeful, or scared.
I need her. I need the calm Lauren brings to my mind, to hold her and listen to her steady breathing to keep my thoughts in check as I fall asleep.
“I’d love to. Please.”
She nudges me playfully with her elbow. “You’re always welcome at my place,” she clarifies.
