Page 52 of Make You Mine This Christmas
“Then we won’t,” I whisper back. We stay still for a moment more before he presses a gentle kiss to my lips. He pulls back, reaching into the back seat for his garment bag, and climbs out of the car. Two taps on the door after he shuts it serve as his departing notice, and I watch as he walks to the station. I feel like I could burst. It can’t end like this.
Unbuckling, I lean halfway out the window. “Hey, Brody!” He turns and looks at me. “Merry Christmas.”
Thanks to a well-placed streetlight, I can see him smile. “Merry Christmas, Austin.”
I stay where I am as he turns back around and continues his path, until he’s through the door and out of sight. Only then do I sit myself back in the driver’s seat and turn the car on. The radio turns on automatically, and Christmas music fills the small space. I push the button to silence the cheer, and head back to the highway, with only my thoughts for company.
* * *
Back in Winterberry Glen, I can’t bring myself to go back to my apartment, knowing there will be pieces of Brody everywhere. I know I can’t avoid it forever, but I can at least for tonight. Instead, I pull into my mom’s driveway. After I turn the car off, I sit still for a moment, exhausted. How in the world am I supposed to put on that suit tomorrow and be what those kids need? All I want is to sleep for a week.
The front door opens, and I see my mom’s silhouette back lit through the storm door. If I don’t get out to explain why I’m here, she’ll knock on my car window in a few minutes. Once I step onto the front porch, she looks at me questioningly. “He’s gone, Mom,” is all I can manage. She opens the door wider, ushering me in. “Let’s make some hot chocolate.”
A few minutes later we’re sitting on the couch, steaming mugs of cocoa in hand. The only lights in the living room are the ones on the Christmas tree in the corner, and music is softly playing from the stereo.
“So what happened?” she asks. “You were getting along like gangbusters the other night.”
I take a sip of chocolate to fortify me and prepare to explain. “He got a call from his assistant. Something happened with one of his Santas and an important gig. He had to go back to New York tonight or risk getting stuck in a storm and not making it tomorrow.”
“Well, how did he get to the train station?”
“I mean, I took him. I understand why he had to leave. It just hurts he’s not coming back.”
She puts her mug down on the coffee table and turns fully toward me. A sign she means business. “He said so, point blank?”
“I mean, not exactly. We talked about different times we could see each other, but there are some roadblocks in the way. And anyway, after he gets back to the city and leaves the bubble of Winterberry Glen and us living together, he’s not going to want me any?—”
“Austin Michael Owens.” Even at thirty-six, getting full-named has me sitting up straighter. “Why do you find it so hard to believe you’re easy to love?” I open my mouth to reply, but she holds up her hand. “That boy loves you. I see it in the way he looks at you, cares for you, accepts texts from your mother about celebrations he surely had no interest in going to hours before. I see it in the way, after all these years, he came back for you. Why wouldn’t he make the effort to see you after work called him away?”
I shrug. “His life is there, and my life is here.”
“And does it always have to be that way?”
“Well, no, I guess not. But you’re here, and then there’s the possibility of a job with the tourism board...”
“Sweetie, I love you. But a maybe job at the tourism board? You’d be bored senseless in a minute. I’m so blessed to have brought you into this world, to have had all this time together, good and bad, living so close. Besides, soon I won’t be living here anymore, so you can take that out of the equation.”
“I mean, a job that contributes to my health insurance would be nice,” I mumble, mostly because I need to defend myself a little bit.
“I think they have those in New York, or in Stamford too, you know.”
“But what about Christmas? The last one in this house?”
“A house is a house. It’s the people who make it a home. It’s time you put finding your home first. Besides, you know I won’t be alone. People are always wandering in and out—it’s a Christmas open house.”
I’m quiet for a moment, thinking back to my conversation with Brody in the car on the way to the train station. He tried so many times to tell me he didn’t want this to be over, but I couldn’t meet him in the middle. Instead, I shut him down, deflecting out of fear I’m not worth the effort. I’m going to need to go the whole way to him this time. It’s only fair. After all, he came the whole way to me.
“That’s the face of a man who’s developing a plan,” Mom says, picking her hot chocolate back up and taking a satisfied sip.
“One’s definitely starting to take shape. I promised Brody I’d fill in as Santa tomorrow and Tuesday, but I can drive to him in the afternoon. The storm should have passed by then. If you’re really sure it’s okay I’m not here on Christmas.”
“Seeing my son happy after all he’s done for me is the only Christmas present I need. Now get out of here, I paused a new Hallmark movie when you showed up at my door all mopey.” She softens her words with a smile, knowing full well she would have talked it through all night if I needed her to. I lean forward and kiss her on the cheek before taking quick steps to the door.
“Dinner tomorrow night?” I say over my shoulder when I reach the front door.
“It’s a date. Now get out!” The sounds of a city gal and small town guy falling in love fill the living room, and I smirk. Gender identity aside, sometimes life is just like the movies.
Back in the Bronco, I dial Blaire’s number.
