Page 40 of There's Only One Sleigh
As much as it hurts, the time has come for me to start disentangling myself from Rob and his family.
When he tries to hand me a bowl, I shake my head. “I’m still stuffed from all the fair food I ate today. I think I’m going to head up to my room.”
“You’ll miss the movie.”
I force a smile. “I know how it ends.”
When his gaze holds mine, searching, I know he wants to question my decision, but there’s only so much he can say when surrounded by his family. “You feeling okay?”
“Yeah. Just tired and very much not hungry. And I need to start making plans to head back to the city.”
The words land the way I knew they would—I can see it in the way his jaw clenches and his shoulders drop. “Sure. If you change your mind, the mac will be in the fridge and we’ll be in the family room.”
I nod before he or anybody else can say anything more, and I’m a little afraid I might burst into tears. I keep it together all the way to my room, though, where I immediately strip down to my underwear.
I don’t put on music and dance it out, though.
Instead, I stretch out on the bed and stare at the ceiling as though I’ll find something there to ease the utter panic running through my mind.
I don’t want to leave Charming Lake.
And Ireallydon’t want to leave Rob.
But then I think of all of my striving for more in high school. The striving in college. I remember how hard it was to climb every single rung of the corporate ladder.
Then I roll onto my stomach so the pillow can absorb my tears.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
Rob
I’m not in a great mood when Whitney shows up at the fire station the next morning.
I didn’t sleep worth a damn. The movie was ruined. The baked macaroni and cheese was ruined. Right now it felt as if all of Christmas was ruined.
She’d as good as said goodbye last night, and I wasn’t even sure she would show up today. I knew it was coming—I’d reminded myself so many times Whitney’s stay in Charming Lake was temporary—but that didn’t make it hurt any less.
What will make it all hurt a lotmorewill be spending the day with Whitney and falling back into our easy way with each other, only to be reminded again that she’s leaving.
I can’t do it.
“Didn’t expect to see you today,” I say in lieu of a proper greeting, and my voice is admittedly a little more harsh than it needed to be.
She frowns and sets my coffee down on the bench when I don’t go and take it from her. “Why? There’s a lot of wrapping up to do, I’m sure.”
“Your job was to help me put on the Christmas fair. You don’t have to help break it down. The guys and I usually get it all put away in a day.”
“Oh.” She hooks her bottom lip with her teeth for a second, looking uncertain. “Are you sure you don’t want somebody to log where everything goes so you don’t have to go door-to-door next year?”
I chuckle because she’s not exaggerating by much. “Now that I’m actually in charge, most of it will be going in my barn.”
“Okay. That’s good, then.”
After a painful moment of awkward silence, I decide to rip the bandage off. “I should have sent you a text, but I think we’re all set.”
That bland, polite business expression she wore the day I met her slips over her face like a mask. Then she nods once. “I’ll get out of your way, then.”
