Page 46 of Miss Humbug
“Did you see the little Christmas village in the side yard? It looks like it’s supposed to be a miniature Crystal Cove.”
Marlowe’s face morphed into a slow but unmistakable scowl.
She hated this. Like, absolutely loathed it.
The music escalated as it neared the big ending. “This is the part we saw already,” she said. “When we first drove up.”
Meaning,I’m done now.
I sighed. With no one idling ahead of us, we were free to leave. “You know, people come from two counties over to see this house.”
“Really? Two whole counties?”
“Maybe one county,” I grumbled. I moved us toward the end of the road until we reached a stop sign. A sign I should take to heart beyond my driving. “Look, I’m sorry. I wanted you to see the holidays through my eyes.”
“You liked that back there?”
I shut off the radio. “Yeah.”
Even if we won the competition, and Marlowe owned Hollybrooke House, we weren’t exactly a matched set when it came to our interests. A good chunk of my life revolved around holidays. I made my living at it. Marlowe couldn’t stand the things that made me happy.
“I’ll take you home.” I hit the blinker to turn left toward the house.
“Hey.” She laid a hand on my arm. “I like driving with you. I’m not into Christmas lights bright enough to be seen from another solar system, but I don’t need to go home yet.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you miserable.”
“Like that’s possible. Keep on driving, Sawyer.”
It’s impossible for me to make her miserable.That’s what she was saying. “Well, okay then. Turning right, it is.”
I headed toward downtown. “Do you put up a tree at home?” I asked her.
She responded with a look I couldn’t suss out. “Anna has a small one. It sits on a table with the lights and ornaments already on it.”
“That counts.”
“I never meant to hate the holidays, you know. It just feels excessive to me. Too much for one day that goes by in a blink.”
I slowed as the speed limit lowered. The downtown shopping district lit up like a, well, Christmas tree. Thousands of lights adorned storefronts. Decorative snowflakes illuminated lampposts and every store window featured a themed display. “Festive, but less of a spectacle. Not as bad as the house?”
“It’s nice. If you like this sort of thing.” Her voice had a detached tone. “I know you’re trying to make me like the holidays again.”
“Yeah.” I could admit it. “I like sharing this with you.”
She went quiet again.
“I drive past Hollybrooke House even when it’s out of the way.”
She snapped her head toward me. “You do?”
“Yeah. Good memories. Plus the house is pretty, you know? It makes me think of…” I cleared my throat. “You. It reminds me of you.”
I stared at the road. I didn’t dare look at her. I wasn’t prepared.
Once Christmas ended and the new year crept in, would I pass the house with the same good memories? Maybe I’d be heartbroken and need a detour.
I didn’t want to ask. I wanted to live in the moments we had and not question what lay ahead.
