Page 14 of Mistletoe Misses
Are they talking about her brother or Maddox? Is she insinuating that Maddox is single? Do they know something I don’t, or am I projecting my hopes into this strange conversation? “You’re right, but I have a lot on my plate right now and dating isn’t one of them.”
“That’s a shame. I guess that means I can set him up with someone else. Someone like Chrissy, perhaps.”
Chrissy’s eyes sparkle at the idea, and I’m still not sure who we’re talking about. I just know I don’t like it.
“Anyone but you.” Sandra barges on. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“I guess so.”
“Alrighty. I’m glad that’s settled. Ready Chrissy? We have more shopping to do.”
“What about the gift?” I call lamely after them as the door closes. My efforts to quell gossip time where Maddox is concerned, may have accomplished something much worse. With the way Sandra and Chrissy work, the Ember Falls collective of unattached women will be informed within the hour that I’m not a concern. They have free and clear access to pursue and flirt and—
“Poor guy,” Dad says, shaking me out of my sickening thoughts. He sets down a box of pens and clucks his tongue. “You know they weren’t talking about her brother, right?”
My eyes roll at the same time as my stomach.
He ignores my pre-teen-like reaction and barrels on. “If you don’t lay claim soon, every unattached female in this town will be trying to do just that, and you’ll be further behind than you are now.”
Well, that stung. I fight against a wince by glaring at him, ensuring he understands that I don’t care for the hidden message behind his comment. I know I have a lot of groveling to do before earning a conversation with Maddox. I don’t need a reminder. “Dad, I can have no claim on him. I gave that up long ago, and surely, he hates me for it.”
“Maybe.” He shrugs. “Maybe not.”
“Dad.”
“All I’m saying is you’ll never know if you avoid him while he’s here.”
“I’m not avoiding Maddox. He just got here. I’m giving him space to get settled …”And me time to determine if he’s single. “Before forcing him to do something he doesn’t want to do.”
“What do you think he doesn’t want to do?”
“See me. Talk to me. Think about me,” I blurt out, my arms flying up and banging against my sides in helpless exasperation, like we’re acting in an over-dramatic 90s comedy. Only there’s nothing funny about this situation.
“What about what you want?”
Picking up the box of General Store logoed pens, I stalk to the main counter. “The last time I thought about that, it ruined everything.”
“But wouldn’t it be nice to know if he does want to see you, talk to you, and think about you in the present and in a new way. Don’t you want him not to be angry with you anymore.”
“You’re not helping.”
“Yes, I am. You just don’t know it yet.”
I lean against the cabinet for support, exhausted from trying to hold together my shredded patience. “Anyway, we don’t knowhe’s angry. Maybe he hasn’t given me a second thought.” That wasn’t easy to say out loud.
“You two had something special, honey.” He steps up to the counter to prevent me from dodging this conversation again. “He hasn’t stopped thinking about you any more than you’ve stopped thinking about him.”
Of course, I think about Maddox. For my entire childhood, he was the center of my world, my best friend, and my safe space. I’ve missed him more than I can put into words, but allowing myself to hope he hasn’t moved on could be more detrimental to my tender heart than living with half of one without him.
Chapter 4
Maddox
Last night, I made a list of repair tasks to accomplish at the bookshop according to complexity and time needed and snuck in a toolbox after closing. First on the list will be checking the second floor to find the cause of the leak … butafterI soften the opposition.
Expecting Nana to protest and try to hinder my plans for some unknown reason, I stop by Latte Da Café on my way in to get us coffee and breakfast. She won’t show it, but she’ll be touched by the thoughtful gesture. I only hope it’s enough to make her stay out of my way. Then again, no matter how she reacts, I still win. The repairs will eventually get done—just with annoying chatter from said opposition—and I get some one-on-one time with my favorite person. Now that I think about it, this buttering her up idea is formybenefit and sanity, not hers.
Stepping inside the café, I’m too busy admiring my cleverness to prepare my introverted self for the young barista greeting me by name. It’s a small town. Of course, she knows me and my family, but it’s been a while since I’ve experienced that kind of intimate familiarity, and I’m out of practice.
