Page 13 of One Hundred Lights
She groans. “One hundred. But you knew that.”
A chuckle bubbles up in my chest and she gives me a narrow-eyed look.
“What?”
“A hundred is just... a lot,” I say. “At the rate of zero, three, or ten a store, we have a long way to go.”
She giggles, a pained moan underneath it.
“The next one, we’re going to hit the jackpot,” I insist. “I can feel it.”
Her giggles evolve into laughter, and I can’t help but join her. Two of the boxes fall out of her arms and I face her after picking them up. Tears of laughter roll down her cheeks.
This is perfect. This is exactly how I want to spend my day. My days. With Britt. Laughing.
Woah. Hold up.
I check my thoughts and grab boxes from Britt’s arms, following her to the front of the store, the occasional chuckle still sounding from her.
Maybe we can do more than smooth things over.
Maybe we can be friends.
Maybe we can be more?
But no. She doesn’t want that. And I don’t either. I want to be logical, safe, and steady. For Chelsea. Not fall in love with my ex-wife’s ex-best friend.
What?
Who is talking love, anyway? Not me. And not Britt. She needed space, and then I abandoned her.
The snow’s falling harder now, and when we exit the store, Britt spins in circles and laughs, twirling in the falling flakes. My heart squeezes, and when she inevitably gets dizzy, I step forward and let her lean against me.
“It’s so beautiful, don’t you think?”
“Sure is.” She’s watching the snow, but I’m watching her.
The backseat is filling up with bags of lights and Britt’s looking hopeful, but inside, I’m in turmoil, right back where I was six months ago, when I was confused about what was going on, both in my marriage and between me and Britt.
Instead of driving to the next store, I turn into the coffee shop I’d seen on the map.
“Where are we going?”
“We need fuel. Quick caffeine break? And a muffin or a cake pop to celebrate?”
“I’m not sure we deserve it yet, with only thirteen boxes.” She gestures to the backseat.
“How about we get the most ridiculous holiday drink we can find? Maybe that’ll bring us luck.” I maneuver my SUV into a spot and turn the car off. “Look how cozy it is in there.”
Through falling snow, the glass windows of the coffee shop display holiday decorations. A giant Christmas tree towers in one corner, rainbow lights twinkling. A bookcase adorned with white, silver, and shades of blue lights show off a small menorah.
Britt’s eyes shine. “Fine. It does look lovely in there.”
I offer her my arm on the snow-covered sidewalk, and she slips her hand through my elbow. Inside, the store is as atmospheric as it looked from the parking lot, and even as a line builds up behind us, the world’s happiest baristas take our order for peppermint mochas with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings on top, adorned with a candy cane and a hand-drawn snowflake instead of a dot above the letterIin our names.
“This is an absolutely ridiculous drink.” We settle onto a couch, and even though I’m careful to leave a slight space between us, the worn cushions cave in so we end up with our thighs touching lightly.
“You promised me themostridiculous holiday beverage.” Britt’s tongue darts out and wipes a blob of whipped cream off her top lip.
