Page 92 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
“Wow,” he says while taking a sip from his drink. “Can’t hear that enough.”
“Don’t you even dare act hurt. You’ve been throwing punches all night.”
“I don’t agree—”
“Merry Christmas!” The booming voice of Bob Krampus startles both of us.
“M-merry Christmas,” I say, turning toward Bob and Sylvia who are walking hand in hand—in their Mr. and Mrs. Claus outfits—toward us.
“Merry Christmas, Santa,” Cole says as he takes a step closer to me.
“What are you two doing walking down Lovers’ Lane?” Sylvia asks as she holds on to Bob’s arm.
“Lovers’ Lane?” I question.
“That’s what they call it on Cupid Christmas night,” Cole says and then turns to Bob and Sylvia. “Well, I sort of asked Storee out, and she said yes.” Cole reaches down and takes my hand in his.
The grip of his palm over mine, the feel of his callused hand against my skin…it’s…it’s…ugh, its annoyingly comforting. It feels right.
It feels like I should always be holding his hand.
And yet I need to block that out of my mind. This is not a feeling I want to explore.
“So I wanted to take her out for a nice evening, starting with cider from Prancer’s, then a walk along Lovers’ Lane, followed by a stroll through the stalls. Hoping to grab a bratwurst.”
Bob pats his stomach. “Got a brat myself, quite delicious tonight.”
“Oh, Santa, you’re missing the point, they’re…they’re dating,” Sylvia says with stars in her eyes.
“Just on a date,” I clarify, not wanting any more rumors to spread. “Just seeing how things go.”
Cole smirks down at me. “She’s still trying to figure out her feelings, whereas I know exactly what I want.” And then to my utter surprise, he lifts our connected hands and places a kiss on my knuckles.
The warm, soft press of his lips sends a chill right up my arm.
“Well, hopefully she can figure them out fast for the sake of your heart,” Bob says and then offers me a wink. “Have a nice night, you two.”
“Thank you,” Cole says.
“Yeah, thanks,” I say as they trail away. When they’re out of earshot, I say, “What the hell was that, Cole? Now they’re going to think I’m some sort of heartbreaking wench.”
“Who cares,” he says. “Not like you live here and need to save face.”
“I still visit.”
“Every decade,” he mutters and continues to walk down the lit-up archway.
“Uh, why do you sound so bitter about that?”
“I don’t,” he says as he turns around and walks backward while he continues to talk. “Just surprised you actually came back.”
“My great-aunt needed help, so of course I came back.”
“You know she was sad, right? Martha told me it was one of the reasons she started entering the Kringle competition, because she wanted to feel the Christmas spirit again. And a lot of it had to do with you and Taran not coming back to visit her.”
Guilt consumes me as I think about Aunt Cindy celebrating Christmas on her own. Then again, Cole could just be saying that to get under my skin. But he is right; we all stopped visiting. Taran was busy with school and internships, Mom and Dad had their timeshare that they had to visit during the holiday season, and I…well, after whathappened the last time I was here, all that public humiliation, I didn’t really want to come back.
And I see how wrong that was.
