Page 38 of Holiday at Home
A someone where I get to skip all the awkward, painful, getting to know you moments and just… be known.
Simon presses a kiss into the top of my head. The simple brush of his lips is enough to undo me. My pulse trips over itself, my brain shouting caution while every other part of me humsyes, yes, yes. Despite the riot inside me, we wander through the market, quietly enjoying being together. My phone buzzes and I slide it out of my pocket, my heart falling as I read a text from Elizabeth.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…” I stop walking, sighing heavily as I hunch over my phone.
Simon is at my side in an instant. “What’s wrong?”
The way his voice drops—concern threading through every word—does things to me I don’t want to name.
The drama of my initial reaction hits me and I laugh. “It’s fine,” I say, waving my hand like I can erase his concern. “Elizabeth is sick and won’t be able to help me with the bakery tomorrow. I knew this day was coming at some point.”
I grimace, then laugh again as my brain presents an image of me running from kitchen to counter to tables and back again. “Maybe I should invest in a pair of roller skates,” I murmur.
Because nothing saysChristmas cheerlike a one-woman holiday extravaganza. Me, apron flapping like a festive cape, skidding across powdered-sugar snowdrifts while the coffee pots hiss backup vocals. I can already hear “Jingle Bells” playing in the background as I serve coffee at warp speed and pray I don’t break a hip.
Simon cocks his head. “I’m sorry, what now?”
“Roller skates. They might make it easier to be in three places at once. Counter, kitchen, seating area, then back again.” I shoota message to Elizabeth, telling her not to worry and to focus on feeling better, then shove my phone back in my pocket. “I knew going down to just one employee would mean days where I have to run the bakery alone, and I’ll be fine. I have plans in place for how I intend to make it work. But as much as I don’t want to, I probably should go home and make sure I get enough sleep because tomorrow will be hectic. With or without roller skates.”
Simon is already turning us around as I speak. His palm is steady at the small of my back, firm and warm through the layers of my sweater. I should move, make some excuse, but the truth is… I like the way it feels, being guided, being seen.
“That’s a lot to do on your own.”
I nod. “But I can do it. Like I said, I knew this was a possibility. I’ve got it. Just a good test of my multi-tasking ability.”
We walk in silence, his still hand on my back as I think through when I need to wake up, how to shift bake times and rise times so I can man both the kitchen and counter without causing too much disruption for the customers. Maybe I’ll make a sign for the window…
“What if,” Simon says, as we clear Town Square, “you had someone with you?”
“I mean, I guess I could call the people I had to let go and see if any of them could come in, but that’s not something I really want to do.”
It was hard enough telling them I couldn’t afford to keep them on and they’d need to find new jobs. Calling back to ask for a random day of work? Not really my favorite idea…
“I get that.” Simon shakes his head. “Consider that a contingency of contingencies. I’m talking more like… what if I was there to help out tomorrow?”
“Simon… I can’t let you do that.”
“Why?”
I wave my hand and open my mouth as if a good reason is right there on the tip of my tongue, but the only one I have is, “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“You mean take advantage of the help you didn’t ask for but I willingly offered? Man. Yeah. That makes sense.” He slows to a stop, his eyes twinkling in the evening light. “You do the baking and I’ll be your assistant. No blobby sugar cookies, I promise. Once things start rolling, I’ll handle the front end, and you can boss me around. We can run the store together.”
It is at once the best possible option and also the most terrifying. The image flashes in my mind—us the summer after high school, sketching business names on napkins, swearing we’d conquer the world together. The ache that memory leaves behind feels too tender, too dangerous to revisit. It’s one thing to give in to holding hands and a little making out here and there. But actually living out the dream Simon and I had when we were planning our life together? Experiencing the future I once thought was mine?
Can my heart handle that?
Or is that one step too far?
“I don’t know,” I say with a sigh.
Simon puts both hands on my shoulders, that bright, sunshine smile lighting up his face. “Let me help you, Violet. In fact—” he grins “—I rescind the question. Instead of, ‘What if I help you tomorrow?’ it’s, ‘Iwillbe helping you tomorrow.’ Come on. Let’s get you home so you can get some rest.”
My heart flips, equal parts dread and something that feels suspiciously like happiness. Outside, the wind shifts, carrying the scent of cinnamon and sea salt, and I can’t tell if it’s Christmas magic or madness that’s making me believe him.
16
Violet
