Page 72 of Merry Little Sugar Rush
Burk doesn’t say a word, just holds me even tighter as the tears fall. Even after the song ends, he doesn’t let go and we dance to the next one too. When that song ends, he places his thumb and index finger on my chin and lifts my face. “You ready to get out of here?”
I nod, feeling drained and numb. The ache in my chest is consuming, like a wildfire destroying everything in its path. If I’m going to completely fall apart, I want to do it in the privacy of my own home, not in front of my family. I swipe quickly at my tears and paste a smile on my lips.
Burk keeps a firm grasp on my hand as he leads me to where my parents are standing and watching their oldest daughter dance with her new husband. “I’m feeling a little tired, so I think we’re going to head out,” I tell them as I approach.
“Of course, dear,” Mom replies, pulling me in for a hug. “John and Eve are getting ready to head to that bed-and-breakfast for the night and will join us for lunch tomorrow.”
My parents gifted them with an overnight stay at a private cabin at a bed-and-breakfast not too far out of town. It’s quite popular with the tourists, and when the owner found out Eve and John were getting married on Christmas, they insisted they use that particular cabin so they have more privacy.
“I’ll be here,” I tell her.
Then, I turn my attention to my dad, who wraps me in his arms and holds me tightly. He kisses me on the side of the head, and whispers, “Tell him, honey. I think he feels the same.”
I close my eyes, praying he’s right. Because if I say the words I long to say and he doesn’t feel the same, it would kill a piece of my soul. “Love you.”
“Love you more, honey.” He kisses my forehead before turning his attention to Burk. He extends his hand. “Take care of my baby.”
“Always,” Burk replies, shaking my dad’s hand firmly.
I try not to read too much into his words, instead giving my attention to my sister. She glances over and offers a small smile and a wave. I return the gesture, blowing her a kiss before making my way to the front door. Burk helps me slip on mywinter coat and grabs his as well before taking my hand and leading me out of the house.
He presses the remote start button on the key fob on his rental and escorts me that way. When we left the small church where the ceremony was held, I rode with Burk, since my vehicle was left at home. After Mom did our hair at the salon, Eve and I rode with her to the church to get ready. It was easier that way.
Burk helps me into the passenger side of his rental and closes the door behind me. I try to take a few moments to calm my racing heart, but it’s no use. I’m too worked up right now, especially knowing the end is near. In a couple of days, Burk will be flying back to South Carolina, his return to Snowflake Falls a complete unknown.
When he climbs inside, he reaches for my hand and links our fingers together. We ride back to my place without saying a word. The air is so thick with everything unspoken. It’s almost hard to breathe.
By the time we pull into the alleyway behind the bakery and he parks, I think I’ve finally gotten myself calm enough to not burst into another fit of tears the moment we walk through the door. My movements are almost robotic as I climb from the vehicle and pull my keys from my small clutch purse. I don’t even realize my fingers are shaking until Burk wraps his hand around them and stops me.
Gently, he takes the keys from my hand and unlocks the door, pushing it open and waiting for me to step through. The moment we’re inside, the door is relocked behind us and we’re making our way up the steps. The upper door is unlocked too, and we’re finally inside my small apartment.
Burk sets down a duffel bag before moving to the tree. He turns on the lights and sets a box down in front of it. There’s only one other present left, and that’s the one I got for him. We agreed to do our exchange tonight, but now, I don’t feel jovialor anxious to give him the gift I spent so much time and energy making.
“Come here,” he says, taking off his coat and dropping it onto the couch. I do the same and go willingly to where he’s standing in front of the tree.
Once I reach his side, he pulls me into his arms and hugs me tightly. I don’t know how long we stay right here embracing, but it feels like forever, yet not long enough at the same time.
Pulling back, he cups my cheeks in his big hands and brushes his lips across mine. “Come on, let’s open presents.”
We move to the couch, sitting side by side in front of the brightly lit tree. Even with the hundreds of lights adorning it, my Christmas tree just feels like it lost its luster. I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever look at it and feel peace and joy ever again, or will it remind me of the man I love and lost?
“Here,” he says proudly, smiling brightly as he hands me the wrapped box.
I push aside the pain and focus on the now as I remove the bow and tear into the paper. I can’t help but notice it contains a family ice-skating and enjoying other holiday traditions on the thick paper.
Ripping open the box, I push aside the red and green tissue paper and pull the wooden object out. My eyes tear up when I realize what it is. It’s a tabletop cookbook holder. Not just any cookbook holder. One Burk handmade with two words etched on the base.
Easy-Bake.
Happy tears stream down my face as I run my hand over the intricate carvings and details of the nickname he gave me all those years ago.
He glides his rough thumb over the apple of my cheeks and swipes away the fresh tears. “I love it,” I whisper, the words barely audible.
He gives me a small smile. “Good. After I saw you pull that cookbook out and prop it against something on your workstation, I knew what I had to make you.”
I sniffle and reach for the shirt box wrapped beneath the tree. “Here. It’s not as amazing as this is though,” I tell him, holding onto this fantastic, thoughtful gift as if it were a lifeline.
Burk digs right into the present, sending scraps of paper flying and making me giggle. He looks like a four-year-old ripping into the gift with so much anticipation and excitement, it’s hard not to feel that kind of joy.
