Page 21 of Stay this Christmas
“He’s been to yoga?” I could hardly believe it, considering he called physical therapy ‘hocus-pocus.’ Surely, yoga would be a step down on Arthur’s credibility scale.
“I think his words were,“I’d rather hit myself over the head with a ball-peen hammer”.”
Nowthatsounded like Arthur.
“He’s told me three times how useless yoga is, so yeah, I expect him to wander in for a class any day now. He’ll be doing headstands with the best of them.”
I started laughing before I caught myself and paused, frozen in place, staring at Sam. Dangerous stuff, being so close to him. Memories of when he used to be mine came rushing back until I could almost touch them. Once, I’d been ready and willing to let him shake up my plans—impromptu dates had been the norm with him. Catching a glimpse of mischief in his eyes had proved its own adrenaline rush back then. I didn’t care what we did or where we went, as long as we were together.
Now, he didn’t move, just held eye contact as though waiting for something. Once upon a time, we played our own version of staring contests. We’d see how long we could gaze into each other’s eyes before one of us cracked. Sometimes, we’d break into laughter, the seriousness too much for us. Other times, we’d crash together in a kiss.
I could crash into him now. See if he’d really forgotten everything.
No, Harper. Just no.
I took all my pathetic thoughts, crumpled them into a ball like a fitted sheet, and shoved them into the deepest, darkest corner of my mind.
Clearing my throat, I tried for some composure. Or something composure-adjacent. “I’m on my way out for lunch.”
He watched me as if he knew all the thoughts that had been chasing around inside my head. “Me, too.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything more. Instead, I crossed the room, grabbing my purse and fleece jacket from my desk, only to find him still standing in the doorway when I returned.
“I’m walking to Homegrown,” I said. Was that information? An invitation? I didn’t even know.
“That sounds good. Can I walk with you?”
Could he? Part of me wanted to switch on the snark and tell him he could walk right off a pier. But the time to take my anger out on Sam Donnelly had passed eleven years ago. Now, it would just make me sad and bitter, and after spending forty minutes with Arthur, I didn’t have much desire to act like him.
“Sure. We can walk together.”
His bright smile reappeared. “Great.”
He seemed to relax, as though he’d been tensed up, expecting a curt refusal. Guilt twisted through my stomach as I thought over my behavior with him these last few weeks. I hadn’t exactly been sunshine and daisies with him so far, had I? If my New-Me list was all about changing for the better, maybe I should put that on there, too.Let go of animosity.I’d been carrying that weight way too long.
We walked through the Village’s main hall and out the front doors, managing to be seen by only a handful of people. The last thing I needed was for us to become the main feature in Fiesta Village’s gossip mill. They already paired me up with every available man they saw—if they actually thought something was going on, they’d be meeting up with my mom to plan our wedding.
Outside, a chill December wind blew around us until I almost wished I’d worn my big coat. I zipped my fleece to my chin, trying to decide in advance what I would order at Homegrown, and generally pretending Sam wasn’t walking right next to me.
“So, what did you think of yoga?” he said, ruining my game.
I thought he’d done an excellent job teaching the class, I’d felt somehow both relaxed and invigorated by the end, and I really wanted to make it a weekly thing, but no way in heck would I tell him any of that.
“So, when did you start hating Christmas?”
He laughed at my random question. “I knew you wouldn’t let that go.”
“It’s kind of hard to forget.‘Christmas is arguably the worst holiday’? When did you start thinking that?”
“A long time ago.” His laughter died off, and his voice came out sounding more serious than I’d heard in ages. “It’s not all everybody makes it out to be, you know?”
“Uh, no, I absolutely do not know.” I gestured at the shop windows we passed, all decked out in their Christmas finest. Tiny trees, faux snow, and glittery baubles as far as the eye could see. “This is the most magical time of year.”
He made a face as if I’d just told him I’d personally seen Santa put toys in my stocking.
“It is! It’s like we get a little slice of childhood innocence back every year. There’s so much goodness wrapped up in the holiday.”
He had the audacity to laugh, which only made me more insistent.
