Page 4 of Santa's Girl
Finally, I had enough. I sat up straighter. “Actually, I should probably tell you—I’m seeing someone.”
Huntley’s brows shot up. “Oh?”
“Yep. He lives up in the mountains. Rugged type. Keeps me warm by chopping firewood with his bare hands.” I smiled sweetly. “I’m spending the holidays up there.”
Caroline nearly choked on her champagne.
Huntley leaned in, a flicker of something—challenge, maybe—sparking in his eyes. “That’s cute, Bec. But we had something real. And I think we could again.”
Before I could lean back, he went for it—closing the space like we were in some kind of rom-com reunion scene.
I turned my head at the last second. His lips brushed my cheek instead. “Don’t,” I said quietly. “You had your shot. You blew it.”
He leaned in, close enough that the familiar scent of his cologne—the one I’d bought him two Christmases ago—wrapped around me like an old song I didn’t want stuck in my head.
My eyes shut before I could stop them. His hand came up, brushing my hair back from my ear the way he used to, fingertips grazing my skin.
A soft kiss landed on the side of my neck. Once, that would have been enough to make my knees weak.
But that was before.
Before he started in about the five pounds I’d gained last winter from making fudge for the senior center. Before he lectured me on how laminated brows were “in” now, and why didn’t I keep up with trends.
Before he’d looked at me at last year’s New Year’s Eve party and asked—loud enough for his mother to hear—why I wasn’t wearing the Christian Serrano blouse she’d bought me for Christmas.
The warmth of his breath on my skin chilled fast.
I opened my eyes, stepped back, and let every ounce of old hurt harden into steel.
“Wow,” I said lightly. “You almost had me for a second there. The cologne, the sweet talk… real smooth.”
Huntley smiled like he’d already won. “See? We’ve still got it.”
“No,” I said, voice steady. “What we had was me overlooking the fact that you could make me feel special and small in the same breath.”
His smile faltered.
Caroline stood, tossing some bills on the table for our drinks. “We’re done here.”
I grabbed my coat, sliding into it like armor. “Enjoy your night, Huntley. Maybe laminate your own brows while you’re at it.”
We walked out before he could reply, the blast of cold night air a relief after the stifling heat of the bar.
By the time we reached the sidewalk, Caroline was grinning. “That was brutal. I’m proud.”
“I’m done playing holiday ghost-of-girlfriends-past,” I said. “I’ve got better things to do.”
We’d made it halfway to the door when Huntley’s hand closed around my arm.
“Becca—wait.” His voice cracked, just a little. “I’m sorry. I’ve changed. I thought she was what I wanted, but…” He swallowed hard. “It was you. It’s always been you.”
Snow swirled outside the windows, casting pale light over his face. “You’re beautiful as you are,” he said. “Your light—it shines from within, not from shimmer powder.”
For one heartbeat, I saw the man I’d once loved. The one who made me laugh until my cheeks hurt, who knew my coffee order by heart.
Then I remembered how easily he’d dimmed that light when it didn’t suit him.
“Too bad you figured it out too late,” I said.
