Page 1 of A World Without You
PROLOGUE
Christmas Eve
Five Years Ago
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MY SCARF CATCHES ONthe door handle of the lodge, yanking me backward, pulling the wool fabric around my neck, and cutting off my air supply. Fury booms in my chest with each heartbeat as I unravel myself from the old wood door and take in a crisp winter breath.
A sob forms in my throat, solid and painful, reminding me how quickly my heart can go from whole and complete to ripped into shreds by the one person who was supposed to be predictable and reliable from the first day we started dating eight years ago.
This wasn’t how this week was supposed to go. I should be home, nestled under Colin’s arms, and we should be telling each other Merry Christmas and sipping spiked eggnog and cider. We should be exchanging gifts and talking about our future.
What I shouldn’t be doing is storming out of the lodge with swollen eyes and a broken heart and getting choked out by my scarf because I won’t be home for Christmas.
I yank my scarf from the door handle, slip on the icy sidewalk for the second time this week, land on my ass, and scream into the night air, “God, I hate this stupid town!”
I try to get back on my feet, but my shoes slip and slide on the ice until I’m right where I was: rock bottom, crying into my hands.
“Now what did this town ever do to you?”
The anger pounding in my heart morphs into embarrassment as my cheeks flame and mouth goes dry at the sound of his voice. I peel my hands from my face and meet his gaze.
“Hey, Graham,” I say, though the shaky tenderness of my tears makes my voice sound more like a whimper.
He cocks his head to the side, gentleness in his green eyes as he tilts my chin with a gloved finger. “You can’t be sad at Christmas, Olivia.”
“Oh, I can’t?” I respond, dusting the snow off my pants as I finally find my footing and stand.
“You can’t. Roslyn rules.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, well, even a town like Roslyn should understand how it feels to be abandoned at Christmas by the person you thought was the love of your life.” I let out a shuddered breath and stare at the man who has become my companion during these last five days.
“I thought the mountain pass opened up?” he asks, eyes narrowed.
I sigh. “It did, but chains are required, and that stupid rental doesn’t have chains, and Larry said his shop doesn’t have the right size, and the real icing on the cake is the fact that my Colin—who has chains—isn’t going to come and get me.” My chin shakes a little, then I correct myself, “Won’tcome get me.”
Graham watches me in that quietly protective way he does. It’s only been five days of knowing him but I’ve quickly realized he doesn’t listen to respond... he just listens.
“So I guess you’re stuck with me for a few more days,” I say, straightening my posture and looking him in the eye.
“You say that like that’s a bad thing.” The left side of his mouth quirks into a small smile, and I fight the urge to reach out and touch it. I still have a boyfriend at home. One, I’m certain, is planning to propose—I saw his grandmother’s ring stuffed in his sock drawer. Plus, it’s time. We started dating in high school, and it’s been eight years. We’ve checked all the boxes—college, careers, and a skyrise apartment in downtown Seattle.
But these last few days have made me question all of it.
“Oh please, Graham, I know I’ve been an annoying city slicker with the wrong pair of shoes for a town like this,” I remark.
His gaze drops to my shoes and he withholds a smile. “You’re different,” he says and when I roll my eyes, he clarifies, “special. I’ve enjoyed every moment I’ve gotten to spend with you this week.”
It all plays back in my mind. My initial anger upon arriving in this town. How I thought the best way to cure my sorrows was to drown it in three ciders and ask the tall, bearded man at the bar his name. He said, “Graham,” to which I replied, “All right, Graham cracker. Let’s dance.”
And we did. We danced in the pub and on the snow-covered street, and had wine by the fire. I went sledding for the first time since I was a kid, and I sang Christmas carols door-to-door with his niece, Milly. We made sugar cookies with his Grandma Mary and chopped down a tree, decorating it with red and green globes and sprinkling it with golden tinsel. This whole week was like being trapped in a snow globe that had come to life. I was wrapped up in the isolation of it. Somehow, knowing it wasn’t my world and I’d never return to it made me want it more. I talked to Martha and Bob about how to keep the local paper in business and ate cinnamon rolls from Ralph and Colleen’s bakery every single day.
I swallow the sticky, sweet taste in my mouth as I realize I’ve fallen in love with this town—everything about it—from the bookstore to the lodge to the man standing in front of me.
There’s been this ridiculous inkling in my heart telling me to stay.Choose this life, it says beat after beat. Choose the life where your man will choose you over his job, where everyone knows your name, and where your neighbors invite you to their house for Christmas supper. The life where the air feels different, and breathing is easier.
I stare at the man who has shown me in the shortest amount of time what it means to love people like family and how to celebrate Christmas. “Thank you, Graham,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
