Page 37 of Back to December
I’d like to think that I’m not so obvious in my feelings, but these are the people who know me best. They’re thereason I’m always trying to squeeze in new traditions with Laila—our family is full of them.
“I’m listening.”
“If you let something go, and it comes back to you, it was meant for you. If not, it never was.”
“Mom, with all due respect…I didn’t come here for a bunch of cliched advice. I came for dinner with the people I love.”
“And I loveyou.” She steps forward and reaches for my face. I bend so she can reach it, and she gently presses her hands to my cheeks. She smells like dish soap and honey, the Lockwood version of holy water. “If you don’t want to talk to me about it? That’s okay. Butlisten. I want you to be happy, like your father and I. He was brave and told me how he felt.”
“That was different?—”
“No,” she says fiercely. “No, zlato. Love is love. You tell her. And when things smooth out, you’ll bring her to dinner so we can all love her, too.”
I can almost smell her perfume mixing with the faint sweetness of yeast and honey wafting from the house, laughter spilling through the screen door. For a second, it feels close enough to touch.
I swallow the lump in my throat. She’s painting a picture I won’t be able to forget: Laila at the oversized table my dad and brothers carved to make room for our expanding family. Standing beside my mother in the kitchen, washing dishes, or laughing at Logan’s terrible jokes. Breezing through the door with McKenna after an afternoon of shopping. Stealing glances at me over French toast made from freshly baked bread.
Simple, everyday forever.
“After the wedding, Mom. I promise.”
“That’s my boy. Now get that food put up before it goes bad.”
As I slide into the driver’s seat, her words linger. Laila needs time, warmth, space, and the courage to tell herexactlyhow I feel. What I want.
Our time together this week has been tough, but we’ve managed alright. There’s a learning curve to any relationship, and ours will definitely have to weather a few bumpy spots before we find a rhythm that can handle our schedules.
But I know for certain that I want that.
Laila belongs here—in Enchanted Hollow, with me. It’s where she thrives. She asked me why I let her leave, and this time, I don’t want to.
We’ve got too much to gain.
Fear might still be love in disguise, but I’m done letting it hide.
thirteen
LAILA
OCTOBER
Holly saidno to the donut wall for the wedding, but the infamous apple cider donuts Ever After Farm is known for are front and center at the rehearsal dinner.
Well, post-rehearsal dinner.
This part of the night exists solely for Holly and Cade before they say their vows tomorrow, and this is one of my favorite moments before a wedding. It’s a deep sigh before the wedding day, unless we’ve got a bride who forgot something last minute. It happens, and we roll with it—or we have an associate deal with it so we can stay ready for the morning.
But Holly is gleeful and relaxed, her laughter high and unrestrained, rising above everyone else’s. She’s earned her happiness—not that happiness is something anyone should have to earn. More laughter joins hers, fading as I get closer to the Ever After Pond.
Golden light from the lanterns swaying gently on theirposts spills onto the path that will lead me to the dock. I’m not hiding. I just want a place to recharge. It’s funny, this little pocket of quiet feels like it belongs to another story entirely. The type that Henry would say rewrites itself when no one’s looking.
I keep following the lanterns’ reflections, gold on dark water—like lemon gumdrops on icing, flickering in rhythm with the crickets.
I kick off my shoes and sink onto the edge of the dock, legs dangling, toes brushing the glassy surface. The reflection trembles, and for a moment, it looks like the world is breathing with me.
Once, there was a girl who believed in sugar and spice.
She followed the sweetness home.
