Page 91 of About Last Christmas
It’s Monday night.The fifteenth.
At a quarter till seven, I pull into my usual parking spot behind The Memory Bank and … breathe. Being only ten days before Christmas, the park is packed, though the tightness in my chest has nothing to do with facing crowds, but facing Leo. That is, if he shows.
My phone’s been silent all weekend. It’s stupid of me to think he’ll be waiting for me by the turtledoves display. I shouldn’t expect to see his flirty grin or piercing eyes after I pushed him away. I’m usually too much, but my actions last week were over the top. So why am I clinging to this fragile hope? If I learned anything over these past months, it’s that life is riddled with unknowns, but it’s up to me to keep my heart open to something new. From being the Secret Santa to cultivating a relationship with my mom to discovering more about myself, I learned that I could face hard things even if it terrifies me.
The anniversary date of Gran’s passing was a dark taunt in the alcoves of my mind all year, but I woke this morning determined to remember her legacy rather than dwell on my missing her. Yeah, the feelings were there—are here—but being the Secret Santa has taught me to look outward, and I cansee her in everything she loved. Today, I celebrated her life by making her favorite meals and spending time with Pap and Mom. Pap dug out old photo albums, and we revisited memories, Mom sharing a few I’ve never heard.
With that, I kill the engine, but somehow it feels like I’m turning the ignition to my dreams with the pedal to the floor. I have no clue what awaits me a hundred yards from here—most likely a Leo-less scene—but I’m stepping out anyway. Browsing those albums and looking back on Gran’s full life inspired me to think ahead about my own goals and wants. I’d rather reflect on my days and be able to say more “I trieds” than “What-ifs.” So tonight is me trying, me chasing the moment.
I make my way toward the park. Unlike last year, there’s no snow blanketing the ground. It had all melted over the course of the week, but the cold temperatures remain. Is it really December in Ohio if you can’t see your breath in puffy vapors? I slide my hands into my coat pockets and snake through the throng of people.
I’ve visited this place countless times during the holidays, but the lights seem brighter, and the air’s scented with kettle corn and wonder. Children’s squeals, the clop of hooves in the distance from a horse-drawn carriage, and the soft strains of “O Holy Night” floating through the speakers are this evening’s soundtrack. I pass the North Pole Pavilion, complete with a grinning Santa Ned. He spots me through the window, and I lift my hand in greeting. I have a whole new appreciation for his role.
Fletcher called me this afternoon, telling me everything’s in place for the Secret Santa recipient reveal on the news next week. The local news anchors plan on visiting the Springfield residence with one of those giant checks and the Silver Creek High School marching band, which will play carols. I guess Adelaide and her husband met and fell in love during band campin tenth grade. How Fletcher unearthed that detail is beyond me, but I love that he went the extra mile to make the event more special. Plus, it proves that Fletcher Thomas is a bit of a romantic, something Tilly swears by. She accompanied him to his company Christmas dinner and, by the end of the evening, was half in love with the man.
I slow my steps.
This is it. One final curve brings me to the turtledoves, the park bench. The towering street clock reads seven sharp. With my pulse pounding, I ease through the foot traffic, bumping shoulders with someone and nearly tripping over a divot in the sidewalk. The crowd clears as if they can sense the importance of this moment.
I draw in the cold air and slide my eyes shut. The surrounding sounds shift and blend into a low hum. What happens in the next ten seconds could devastate me or … not. But I need to know the answer. Slowly I lift my lashes, my heart a wild cadence.
As the world comes into focus, so does Leo.
He came.
Leo stands by Gran and Pap’s light display, wearing the same coat I mended last year.
I bite my bottom lip in response to the rising emotion. Though my hope remains as delicate as the snowflakes now swirling around me. We weren’t supposed to get flurries tonight, but it seems this moment is filled with the unexpected. Though just because he showed up doesn’t guarantee his feelings haven’t dulled toward me. He could be here only to keep his promise, not wanting me to be alone on this pivotal day. Because he’s that kind of guy.
I force my feet forward, my gaze transfixed on him. The second I’m in reach, he pulls me close, crushing me to his chest.
He breathes me in. “Man, I missed you.”
“You made it,” I say, almost in reassurance to myself that this is real. He is real.
He pulls back, eyes on my face as if memorizing every detail. “You thought I’d ghost you again?”
His incredulous tone, matched with the way his arms tighten around me, softens the rusted edges of my doubts. “When you don’t answer my calls or texts, it causes a girl to wonder.”
“I’m sorry.” His left hand abandons its home on my waist to brush a snowflake from my cheek. His stubble is longer than usual, like he hasn’t shaved in days, and my skin tingles with the urge to run a hand over his jaw. “I lost my phone somewhere in Berlin.”
Surprise lifts my brows. “You went to Amish country?” Berlin is known for Ohio’s largest Amish community. The town’s rich culture and heritage mark it as a tourist attraction, especially during Christmastime. There’s also a huge antique mall. Was … he looking for another Garrick? That’s the only reason I could see him visiting. It’s such a sweet gesture, but I would’ve told him I already checked with the antique dealers there.
“More like Berlin, Germany.”
“What?” My shocked squeak is loud enough to attract a few glances. “As in—across the Atlantic, thousands of miles away—Berlin?”
He chuckles at my high-pitched inquiry. “That would be the one.”
“Fletcher said you were out of town but neglected to say out of the country. Sheesh.”
He toys with the edge of my coat’s belt, as if he wants to reach for me again but is being patient. “It was a last-minute thing.”
“I’ve got so many questions, but I’ve been rehearsing what I’m going to say, and it’s starting to get hazy.”
He cracks a smile—and oh I missed those dimples—but I can’t get distracted.
“I’m sorry about Monday. You were right to be angry. I offered the set without thinking because it was a knee-jerk reaction. I’ve been impulsive like that all my life, feeling as if I had to give up things to keep the rest of the world happy. I promised you I’d do all I could to get you the Vallerton, though I went about it the wrong way.” I meet his soft gaze. “It’s a brutal lesson to learn, but I think I’m better for it.”
