Page 208 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
Over and over until the door unlocks and opens, Martha standing in her robe and bonnet on the other side.
“My goodness,” she says as she adjusts her glasses on her nose. “What on earth are you doing, Storee?”
“I need your help,” I say.
“With what?”
“With Cole’s house. It’s a long story, but I need help putting his lights back up, and we need to do it before Paula and Peach come around for the final judging tonight.”
“Why are his lights down?”
“Please, Martha,” I beg. “Please don’t ask questions. Please just help me. I need you to round up everyone you can. We need to put the lights back up.” A tear rolls down my cheek. “Please, Martha.”
“Okay, dear. Okay.” She takes my hand in hers. “We will get the lights back up. You can count on me.”
I stand in the bathroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My bloodshot eyes are evidence of the tears I’ve been shedding since this morning.
The downturn of my lips a reminder of the dread I feel in the pit of my stomach that I can’t seem to shake.
And the slouch in my shoulders signals a white flag of defeat.
Because how on earth will he forgive me?
Not that I did anything wrong. Quite the opposite, actually. I’ve been trying to figure out how to grow what we have, not tear it down.
But that look on his face.
The anger in his eyes.
Even with the idea I’ve formed, I’m not sure it will be enough.
I wet a washcloth and wipe down my face, trying to rid it of the tear stains.
From the bathroom, I can hear the sounds outside, putting my plan into action. The muffled nailing, the commands from Martha and Mae, it’s all there, but will it be enough?
Does it matter?
Even if this doesn’t work, if he doesn’t believe me, if he doesn’t want anything to do with me, this is about making it right.
The end goal? To make sure Cole knows I would never hurt him. But even if he doesn’t trust me anymore, I at least need to make my sister’s wrongdoing right.
Knock. Knock.
I glance toward the door and ask, “Who is it?”
“Me, Storeebook,” Aunt Cindy says in a worried voice. “I wanted to check on you.”
“I’m fine,” I say, the lie flying out before I can even think about it.
“Are you sure? You seemed very upset, and rightfully so.”
I am upset.
He’s hurt.
The man that I’m…oh God, the man that I’m falling for is hurt, and that hurts me.
That upsets me.
