Page 94 of Holiday Hopefuls
Connie’s eyes search the depths of mine, her own pain begging for a front row seat. “I know there will never be anyone else for me, either.”
Nodding, I add Cool Whip to my cocoa. “Do you think you’ll ever do anything about that?”
“I think—” Connie runs a hand through her loose hair “—that I don’t want to lose my best friend.”
“He loves you too, you know.” My comment is only met with silence. When I finally peek in her direction, my heart breaks a little more.
Wiping a single tear from her cheek, Connie sniffs. “I want him to be happy,” she says, “and he’s chosen a career that’s not really suitable for our kind of family life. He’s amazing at what he does and I’m not going to stand in the way of that. But you, on the other hand, have a chance at a real relationship. That man over there has feelings for you—anyone can see that. And I don’t mean the fake kind to put on a show for our family.”
Following her line of sight, I’m met with an image I’ve never even let myself dream about. Someone here that’s on my side,no matter what. Someone I can trust. Someone who might truly love me back, despite my last name.
Oliver holds Goldie by the tree, their faces glowing in warm white lights as she regales him with stories about each ornament and how they came to our family.
Goldie catches me watching and waves, whilst Oliver beams at her.
“Uh-oh,” Connie snorts. “Mom and Dad have officially had enough eggnog that they’re busting out the records.”
Sure enough. Dad dances his way from where the record player rests, an old holiday album crackling to life as the familiar lyrics echo throughout the room.
Mom tipsily climbs up from the couch, taking Dad’s hand and swaying in time to the song.
Connie takes the mug from my hand, replacing it on the counter.
“I was looking forward to that, thank you very much.”
“I know, little sister, I know. But I think there’s something better waiting for you.” Connie steers me away from the kitchen and toward the others.
When we’re only a few paces away, Goldie beams. “Aunt Callie, guess what.”
“What’s up, sugar lump?”
She giggles into her hand, leaning onto Oliver.
I’m pretty sure my ovaries explode. His magnetic pull is undeniable, and my feet don’t stop until we’re practically connected at the hip.
“Uncle Oliver knows the legend of the Christmas pickle.”
“Really?” My brows shoot up, looking between them. “Did you find it?”
Goldie juts out a tiny lower lip. “No.”
“Don’t worry, honey,” Imogene says from the couch behind me, “we’ll find it in the morning.” Imogene laughs out a hiccup. “Ope, warning sign.” Another hiccup bubbles out.
Prescott grins at his little sister. “Marigold, go kiss Aunt Genny goodnight.”
“Do I have to go to bed?” Goldie pouts.
“Yes, sweets. But Aunt Genny needs to, as well,” he says, pulling Imogene up for a tight hug. “Otherwise Santa won’t come see her.”
Marigold slaps both palms to her little cheeks. “Not Santa!”
“Tell everyone goodnight,” Prescott nods.
Still in Oliver’s strong arms, Goldie leans out and gives me a tight hug. “Night Aunt Callie, I love you.”
“I love you too, sweet girl.”
My niece releases her boa-like hold, looking back at my fake boyfriend. “Night Uncle Oliver, I love you. Now you say it back.”
