Page 75 of Bad Boy Bachelor Christmas
CHAPTER34
WINTER
My father came up behind me on the sofa with a cup of tea in one hand and a Christmas napkin in the other. He reached down, showing me two shortbread cookies and a nanaimo bar on the Christmas-tree-printed napkin—both homemade goodies my mom had whipped up this past week.
“Some sweet treats for my sweet kid,” he said.
Smiling, I took them from him, followed by the tea, and made myself comfortable in the corner of the sofa.
“How long before your call with your counselor?” Dad asked.
I glanced at the time on my laptop, which was open on the side table. “About eight minutes. She’s usually a few minutes early though.”
He came and sat in the opposite corner of the sofa and patted my ankle. “You’ve been quiet since you got home. Maybe tonight after your mother goes to bed, you and I can pop in a Christmas movie, eat some garbage food, and talk about what happened?”
I loved how he still said “pop in” a movie like we had a VHS player and grainy tapes of old holiday films like “It’s a Wonderful Life”—his favorite.
My parents didn’t know anything about North, or my love story, or how it had all blown up in my face. At this point they both thought my coming home early and the way I wore my sorrow on my sleeve was work related.
“That would be nice,” I said.
“Should I go buy us some wine? An Argentinian red, perhaps? A Malbec? Your favorite.” He winked.
I laughed. “Sure, Dad, that sounds perfect.”
He gave my ankle another affectionate pat before getting up. “I’ll make myself scarce. Your mother and I will be in the kitchen when you’re done. She’s putting me to work, like usual. Icing cookies with these fat fingers.” He flashed his arthritic knuckles. “Your aunt and cousins are going to get some ugly snowmen shortbread this year, that’s for sure.”
I giggled, which was all he was after, and he took his leave, letting me sip my tea and indulge in a shortbread before starting the call with my counselor.
Dr. Allison Kent’s face appeared on my screen, and she waved into her camera while I unmuted myself. “Good morning, Winter. It’s nice to see you. How’s the weather where you are?”
I turned the computer so she could see out the large window in my parents’ living room. The Christmas tree sat tucked in the corner, but through the open blinds, rain battered the streets. “Cold and wet. I’m back in Portland with my folks. Where are you?”
“Visiting extended family for the holidays in Montana,” she said. “It’s very cold andlotsof snow here. I don’t think I’m quite cut out for it.” She pushed her glasses higher up the bridge of her nose. “How was your month in New York? Did you learn a lot? I have an email here with some glowing references, one of which indicates you already secured a design contract for next December. Is this true?”
Despite how badly everything had ended in Maple Hill, I still felt a rush of pride at the mention of my New York City Mall contract. “Yes, it is. I’ve been contracted to design the Christmas tree and main square of New York City Mall for the holidays next year.”
Dr. Kent nodded approvingly. “I knew you’d impress people. My dear friend Marge says you were an absolute pleasure to have around.”
“Marge was wonderful. Super inviting.”
“She says the same about you, and how you made waves in town, helped sell a house with your interior designs, and—I’m not sure what she meant by this—mended a broken heart.”
I blushed. “Oh, um, just a silly inside joke.”
Dr. Kent chuckled softly, and through an open doorway behind her, I saw a small child in pajamas go racing down the hall. She apologized, got out of her chair, and stuck her head into the hallway, where I heard her muted yells for the kids to stop acting like hooligans while she was on her call. She told her husband to put their snowsuits on and go play in the yard before slumping back into her chair.
“Holidays,” she said, clicking her tongue. “Great for everyone except mothers.”
I smiled.
She fixed her glasses once more. “Well, Winter, normally there’s a bit more back and forth with these kinds of meetings, but I know you probably have some festivities to get to or quality time with family, as do I, so let’s not beat around the bush here. I want to put you up first for the selective design program that starts in the spring. I know you had some reservations about it, but I’m hoping your internship has changed your mind. With feedback like this and a secured contract of your own, I am even more confident than I was a month ago that you’re the right person for this program. It’s going to propel you forward in ways you can’t begin to understand yet.”
“I’ll do it.”
She perked up. “Just like that?”
I nodded. I needed something to throw myself into—something that was mine, that I could define success within, and that nobody could strip away from me or make it less than.
