Page 94 of Back to December
It reminds me of our time in SweetheartSprings, when he asked me to stop pretending and let us be real. So far, today has felt like a highlight reel, but the difference is that I wholeheartedly believe it took a lot of mess to get here. Nothing about it has been performative. There’s no audience.
There’s just us.
We’re only a breath away from each other. I wouldn’t mind revisiting the kiss from the tree farm, especially without Ella or our children present.
He’s so close…
“Get a room!” a teenager yells as they skate by.
We both burst into laughter. Holden steadies me, and we glide to the edge of the lake.
“Hot cocoa?” he asks with a lifted eyebrow.
“Sounds perfect.”
He flashes me another grin, skates to the exit, and disappears into the crowd. I follow, slower, and nearly collide with someone as I step off the ice.
“I’m so sorry—” I start, bracing myself against the tall stranger.
“No harm, no foul.”
The world is still when I look up. Of course, it’s Sebastian. He offers a steadying hand, the reflection of string lights glinting in his eyes.
“Did you do this?” I ask, sinking onto the bench.
He shrugs, faint amusement tugging at his mouth. “Technically, it was all you. I just…added a nudge.”
“So what is this?” I gesture at the scene around us, the life that feels so real but isn’t mine.
“A glimpse of what could’ve been,” he says. “Or could be. Depending on how you look at it. I’m sure you’ve put twoand two together by now, but in this life, you and Holden have been together for a long time.”
Across the lake, a little girl in a red coat clutches a gingerbread plush. For a blink, I swear it’s Gumdrop—and the sight tugs something deep in my chest. Holden said I’d thank him one day for that silly prize. Turns out he was right. Love doesn’t have to be perfect; it just has to stay.
“This could still happen?” I swallow.
“Not by my hand,” he says. “This life is completely yours and Holden’s. It took a lot of work—and love—for you to get here.”
“I’m not afraid of work,” I glance toward where Holden is buying us warm drinks.
“You’ve never been afraid of work,” Sebastian says quietly. “You’re just afraid of this.” He touches his heart. “It’s a scary thing.”
“It feels so real,” I whisper.
“It’s not permanent, Laila. Guess Dickens knew a thing or two about ghosts and second chances. His methods were a little old-school, but a glimpse is sometimes enough to prove the point—even to the most lost people.”
“How long do I have?”
“It varies. It all comes down to a decision. Free will can be such a bother sometimes.” He sighs. “But once you discover whatever you’re looking for…”
Maybe the bedtime story was right. Maybe the gumdrops were never about finding a way out—they were just sweeter breadcrumbs, leading me home.
“So I could have a future likethis, or things stay the same?”
“Yes.” His dark eyes gleam in the golden Christmaslights. “But you won’t forget. Be sure that you can live with that.”
Golden reflections ripple across the ice. For the first time, I see what color love could be—and it’s not red at all. It’s this.
Warmth. Light. Holden.
