Page 22 of Stay this Christmas
“It’s the time of year people are most generous and give to charities—”
“Because they want their tax deduction.”
I scowled at him. “It’sbeautiful, with all the trees, the lights, the—”
“Mistletoe,” he put in.
“Sure, mistletoe, but there’s also wreaths and—”
“No,” he said, drawing to a stop on the sidewalk. We stood beneath a gift shop’s dark blue awning strung with red and gold tinsel garlands. Looking me in the eye, he pointed straight up. “Mistletoe.”
I tilted my head to find a sprig of green with white berries hung from the center of the awning. Right. Mistletoe. Anticipation shivered through my stomach. Licking my lips, I dropped my gaze to his, thinking of my New-Me list.
Kiss someone under the mistletoe.
His mouth quirked, his eyes on mine, waiting.
I could check another item off my list right now. Just lean in, give him a quick peck on the lips, and move on. We were right here. He was obviously willing.
But after? We would kiss under the mistletoe, and then what—pretend that had never happened, either? Throw it on the pile of things we didn’t talk about? Absolutely not.
I jerked myself out of the mistletoe’s gravitational pull and walked on.
Sam chuckled low at my side. “Why’d you change your mind, Harps?”
I ground my teeth together at his continued use of the old nickname I used to love, the one only he ever called me. The one that used to send curls of delight through me every time he whispered it. The one that, even after all this time, sent little shivers up my spine as if testing to see if they’d be welcome to blossom into more.
“Because second chance romance is my least favorite trope.”
“All I heard wasromance.”
I shook my head, my eyes glued straight in front of me. “Nothing. Never mind. Forget it.”
Forever, please.
We’d almost reached the safety of Homegrown when Sam stopped me.
“Harper.”
Just that one word, and everything shifted. No more teasing, flirty persona, just my name spoken with utter reverence. My legs stopped without me thinking to do it, and I faced him again.
“I’m so sorry.”
I stilled as those words I’d been waiting eleven years for washed over me. I struggled to catch my breath, waiting to see if his apology would cleanse me, or drown me.
“I broke up with you in the most immature way possible. We’d been best friends for years—” He paused, the seriousness in the cast of his eyebrows and down-turned mouth making him look torn apart. “Morethan best friends, and I ruined everything.”
I couldn’t seem to form words—I just listened to his confession and begged myself to hold it together. Forced myself not to do something stupid like reach out to him, or, God forbid, cry. I’d cried so much over Sam Donnelly in the years after he went away, I wasn’t sure I had any tears left to spare on him. If I did, though, they’d probably come now, when they’d be the most humiliating.
“I should have apologized to you then, and every day after. You deserved better than how I treated you, and I am sorry, Harper. I’m sorry for hurting you, and I’m sorry for being gone for so long without a word.”
Even in my confusion over this apology, I recognized that part wasn’t entirely true. He’d called me once, the night after high school graduation. I’d let it go to voicemail, thinking maybe he’d butt-dialed me. When I listened to the message, my heart had cracked open all over again.
“Harper, I need you.”
Just that, nothing else. But I’d still been so angry with him, I’d deleted the message and hadn’t called him back. By the end of the week, he’d left town. He never tried to get in touch again, confirming my initial suspicions he hadn’t needed me all that much.
“I…” The rest wouldn’t come. Iwhat? I forgive you? I’m sorry, too? I missed you until I thought my withered husk of a heart would never love again? My brain had gone blank, every thought in my head replaced byI’m so, so sorryon repeat. Words I’d longed to hear, and now that I had them, wasn’t sure what to do with them.
