Page 100 of Back to December
I only make it to the part when Kevin wakes up alone before I can’t ignore an unfinished conversation from the lake.
I don’t know how much longer I’ve got here, so I want to make it count.
“You said I don’t take enough credit for blowing up our business.” My finger traces the rim of my coffee cup, round and round, so I can avoid his gaze.
“You don’t, Laila. You rarely do.”
“It’s just a bunch of photos and videos,” I mumble. “I tell people to buy stuff.”
He touches my arm. “That’s not even close to what you do. Can you look at me, please?”
With a raise of my chin, I shift to see him. In the soft light of the Christmas lights and the fire, it’s a little harder to read his expression, but I can see enough to know he’s being earnest.
I plunge ahead without giving him the chance to sayanything. “Your gift in the kitchen is what keeps people coming back. It’s not me, Holden,” I say, gesturing to the tins of cookies on the coffee table. “It’s the love you put into your food.Youare always underestimating what you’re capable of, too.”
“That’s what makes us perfect for each other.” He smiles. “You started it by giving humanity to the bakery, honey. At first, it was sort of like a mini documentary series, I guess. Videos of my parents, me, and Kenna. The process of how we prep every morning, filling the farm stand, and delivering food to The Storybook Cafe.”
A lump centers in my throat as he rattles off the things I’ve wanted to do for his family. I haven’t done them because I was scared they’d think I was exploiting them, but I suppose those are my mother’s words, not theirs.
He continues. “You created social media pages, a new website for all the online ordering and the gift boxes, and everything else you could dream up. Even the gingerbread bouquets with Violet—those things are everywhere now. Every farm-stand display, every Christmas market stall. You’d be proud of how they’ve taken off.”
A soft laugh escapes me. “Of course they have. Sugar and flowers are unbeatable.”
“You said that when we first pitched it,” he reminds me, smiling. “We actually had to hire more people to keep up with all the business you drummed up. When I told you I wanted to expand to a food truck so we could travel more around the area, you never even blinked. And when we finally got it ready to launch, you planned the event. You’ve never wavered in your faith in me.”
“You had faith in me first,” I say, before I can stop myself.
But it’s true. He did, and he clearly stilldoes.
I used to think love meant losing myself, that choosing Holden meant tucking everything I’d worked so hard for away in a box.
But maybe it’s never been about choosing. Maybe it’s about building something together instead.
“You said we planned the food truck together.”
“Some of it. But you got the ball rolling and steered the ship. I just let you boss me around.”
This is exactly what I want. Ella has been almost insufferable for the last two months—mostly because of how miserable I’ve been—going on and on about how amazing it is to have someone who encourages her and understands her.
Last year, I promised him a weekend with no filters, but I still wasn’t being real with him the way he deserved. I told myself it was practicality. But really, it was fear of finding this and losing it if I let my guard down.
I confined it to weekends instead of letting it blossom into this incredible life.
“I love you,” I whisper.
It’s not the first time I’ve told him this, certainly not in this reality. But it’s not something I say often, either. I show him with all the memories captured on all walls, or the way I set up his reminders for the things he can’t forget but still somehow manages to. In the name of my social media project turned career: Sweet Things.
I’ve unconsciously mirrored back the love he gives to me without question.
“I love you, too.”
He reaches over and takes my hand under the blanket, his fingers warm and steadyagainst mine.
I don’t want to go to sleep tonight. What if this is it? One day doesn’t seem like enough. But that’s the point, I guess.
If you find what you’re looking for, you can’t be lost anymore.
“This is real,” I whisper to myself.
