Page 87 of Nice Guys Don't Kiss Like That At Christmas
Cape Cod.When I say it in my head, it feels less like a location and more like a diagnosis: a condition to be managed, symptoms to be treated, outcomes to be feared.
But is that fair?To Adam or to myself?
The conservatory door creaks open and Sally enters bearing fresh cocoa and what appears to be cinnamon cookies shaped like—unsurprisingly—pickles.
"How are we doing?"she asks, setting the refreshments on the table.
"Still breathing," I respond dryly."Though probably giving my therapist a year's worth of material."
Sally sits in the chair across from me, not with her usual theatrical flair but with unexpected gentleness."I owe you an apology."
"For the fake limp to get me to the tree lighting?Or for the mules with antlers serenading my window this morning?"
"Both," she admits."Though I stand by the mules.Their Christmas spirit is genuine."She fiddles with her apron."But I've been...facilitating, when maybe I should have been listening."
I snort."Facilitating is one word for it."
Sally puts a thermos on the small table.There's a Christmas sticker on it, "Piping Hot Hot Chocolate".Not asking questions.Just there.Comforting.
Dorothy finally stops pacing and jumps onto my lap, her small body vibrating with the anxiety she's picked up from me.I stroke her back, tapping that familiar rhythm."It's not about the Cape," I say finally, surprising myself with the admission.
Sally waits, patient in a way I wouldn't have expected.
"It's about going back to the place where everything fell apart, where everyone knew me as...that girl with cancer.The one who didn't become what she was supposed to."I swallow hard."And Adam not telling me.It felt like he didn't trust me to handle it.Like Chuck not 'trusting' me to be a good nurse, to be me.Like Chuck hiding things to better manipulate me."
"Is that fair, though?"Sally asks, her voice gentle."To compare them?"
"No," I admit."It's not.Adam was trying to protect me in his own way.Chuck was only ever protecting himself."
"And while we're being honest," Sally continues, "your reaction probably confirmed his fears about telling you."
I wince.She's right.I'd gone full clinical Ice Queen, as if lowering my body temperature could freeze the feelings trying to bubble up.
My phone buzzes on the table.I ignore it.Dorothy whines.
"I've been thinking about what my therapist would say," I tell Sally, who looks surprised I'm still talking to her."She'd probably ask me which is worse: seeing Cape Cod as the place where everything fell apart, or missing the chance for it to become the place where everything finally came together?"
Sally beams like I've solved a particularly difficult Christmas riddle."That's quite insightful for someone who claims not to believe in fate."
"It's not fate," I insist."It's...weighing outcomes.Clinical assessment."
"Of course it is, dear."
Through the foggy glass, I catch movement in the park across the street.A tall figure walking a small dog.Even from this distance, I'd know that silhouette anywhere.Adam and LoverBoy, making their slow way through the snow.Something in my chest constricts painfully, then releases.
I miss them both so much it physically hurts.
"It's not that I don't want to be with him," I say softly."It's that I'm terrified of wanting it this much."
Sally pats my hand."That's usually how you know it's worth fighting for."
My observations shift as another figure appears in my line of sight.The Travel Lover reviewer, her professional camera hanging around her neck, notebook in hand.She's watching Adam and LoverBoy with the same clinical interest she's been directing at everything in Pine Creek.Cataloging.Assessing.Taking notes.
I recognize that approach.It's what I do when I'm afraid to engage directly.
"Your reviewer's been documenting Adam," I note, nodding toward the window.
Sally follows my gaze."She's very thorough.Takes the 'authentic Pine Creek experience' quite seriously."We watch the reviewer head back toward the B&B and for a bit, we're both silent, until Sally turns her back to me a few minutes later."She asked about the pipes, you know.Whether they have a...history."
