A raucous cheer sounded behind them and they finally broke apart. Dahlia glanced over her shoulder, seeing her friends crowded onto Lily and Deacon’s front porch, clapping and cheering.
She smiled and closed her eyes, dropping her head onto Connor’s chest. “We should have turned the corner at the edge of the driveway before doing that.”
Connor chuckled. “Maybe so.”
He held her close a few more minutes until his phone buzzed from his pocket. He winced at the interruption, but pulled his phone out anyway, quickly glancing at the screen. “Sorry. It’s work, and I’m on call.” He sighed. “I need to go.” His arms dropped from Dahlia’s waist.
Dahlia fought the urge to step toward him, to keep him beside her. She had a sinking feeling that if he left, things might never be the same between them. And the last five minutes when she’d been in his arms had been five of the most perfect minutes she’d ever experienced. “Okay,” she said simply. “Can we . . .?” Could they what? Talk? See each other again? Go on an actual date? She wanted all of that, but she had no idea how to ask for it.
Connor’s face softened and he reached out, placing a hand on her arm. “I’ll call you.”
She nodded. It was little consolation for his departure, but she’d take whatever she could get. “Okay.”
He turned and jogged to his truck without another glance back and then he was gone.
Dahlia walked slowly back to the house. Lily met her on the porch, alone now, everyone else having gone inside. “What happened?” she asked, her tone gentle.
Dahlia shook her head. “I have no idea. We kissed, and I’m pretty sure I fell in love with him.” She paused, the weight of her realization settling over her. “And then he left. Work called him in.”
“Oh, right. He said he was on call when he got here. That sucks. But the kiss though, right? It looked amazing from up here.”
“Oh, it was amazing. The most amazing, I think. But then he just left so fast.”
“Honey, he had to leave fast. That’s what being on call is about.”
“No, I know, but there was still . . . something. A hesitation of some kind. I can’t put my finger on what it was.”
Lily’s brow furrowed. “Did he say anything when he left?”
Dahlia shrugged. “Just that he would call me.”
“Okay, well, that’s good, right? Why don’t you seem happy about that?”
“No, I’m happy. It’s good. I just know he’s scared. I would have liked a few more minutes for us to talk. For me to reassure him somehow.”
“Yeah, he’s been scared from the beginning, hasn’t he? But that kiss, Dahlia, he was obviously into you. I’m sure he’ll call.”
Dahlia nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure he will.”
Chapter 16
Connor
Connor really had been called into work. His friend, Chase, had needed someone to cover his shift, and Connor owed him one. He’d been happy to do it. He’d also been grateful for the distraction. He’d nearly lost his mind when Dahlia had kissed him. The kiss had been . . . monumental. Enormous. Bigger than any kiss he’d ever experienced. He’d known he felt an attraction to Dahlia, but this was bigger than just attraction.
It was the kind of kiss that tilted the world on its axis.
Twelve hours later when his shift was over, he still couldn’t think of anything else. He found himself driving out toward Sweetgrass Island, craving the peace he only found on the beach. He really ought to be heading home. He’d worked all night. He needed to crash. To sleep some sense into his head so he could decide what to do about Dahlia. He contemplated staying at his grandmother’s house. She’d be thrilled to have him, and she’d also probably feed him something better than the leftover pizza he had at his own place.
Hoping his grandma was around and wouldn’t mind his impromptu Monday morning visit, he turned down Old Magnolia toward her house. He slowed when he passed the Coral Monarch, noticing Peyton in the parking lot, climbing out of her car. Impulsively, he swung into the lot, stopping his truck beside her.
She looked his way and smiled, walking toward him.
He lowered the window as she approached. “Hey,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“Just heading home from work.”
“Home?” She raised her eyebrows. “You’re headed the wrong direction.”
He shrugged. “I’m hoping Grandma June will take pity on me and feed me before I crash. It’s possible my fridge is completely bare.”
“I’m sure she will,” Peyton said. “Did you work all night?”
Connor nodded.
“I don’t know how you do it.”
Silence settled between them and Connor wondered why he’d actually stopped. Why he’d felt the need to suddenly talk to Peyton, of all people, when he was feeling unsettled about Dahlia. But then, it did make some sort of sense. Peyton knew him better than a lot of people. And she also knew what it felt like to have your world turned upside down by one person.
“Connor, what’s going on? I can practically see the wheels spinning in your head.”
He leaned his head back against his seat and closed his eyes, taking a slow, deep breath.
“Hey. You’re freaking me out a little.”
Connor opened his eyes and shrugged, his lips turning into a smile. “I think I’ve fallen in love with Dahlia Ravenel.”
Peyton’s eyes went wide, her smile stretching from ear to ear as she gripped the side of his truck. “Are you serious? That’s amazing!”
Connor shook his head. “I don’t know, honestly. I think I’m serious. But I hardly know her. And what I do know . . . she’s not what I was looking for, if that makes sense.”
“Why? Because she’s a cotillion-polished socialite with one of the most important fathers in all of Charleston?”
Connor shot her a look, impressed by her intuition. “I’ve already met him. And it took him less than five seconds to dismiss me.”
“How does Dahlia feel?”
“She says she’s not like him. That she doesn’t care.”
“Do you believe her?”
“I want to believe her. I think I do. But I’m scared, Peyt.” His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “When we kissed, it literally felt like the world turned upside down. I can’t think of anything else.”
Peyton’s expression softened and she reached out to squeeze Connor’s arm. “Oh, Connor. Love like that is worth fighting for. Don’t let her father scare you away. It’s all just stuff, you know? None of it matters.”
“Easy for you to say, Miss ‘I’m married to royalty.’”
Peyton scoffed. “He’s not royalty, and you’re one to talk, Mr. Trust Fund.” She narrowed her eyes. “Does Dahlia know about your money?”
Connor shook his head. “Nah. Nobody does, actually. Just you and Grandma June.”
“Man, you’re stubborn,” Peyton said, though the warmth in her tone kept the insult from stinging. “She doesn’t know about your money, but she does know your profession, right?”
Connor didn’t respond, but Peyton clearly took his silence as confirmation.
“And she still wants to be with you? Has she hesitated even once? Brought up your income? Questioned your plans? Has she ever given you a single reason to think she cares about the income reported on your tax returns?”
For all of Connor’s hang ups, they really hadn’t been based on anything Dahlia herself had said or done. He rubbed a hand over his face. “She hasn’t. Not really.”
“Connor. You told me we both deserved world-tilting kind of love. You were right, even though I didn’t see it at the time, and I found that with Will. Now you’ve found it, too. Don’t you see? You can’t let this girl get away. If you love her, you need to tell her.”
Connor shook his head. “It’s too soon for me to ever say anything that crazy. I’d scare her off.”
Peyton opened her oversized purse and started digging inside. “I have an idea,” she said, her face
half hidden by the side of her bag. Finally, she popped back up, an envelope in her hand. “Bring her to the Christmas Eve Gala. It’s here, at the Monarch, and it’s going to be really beautiful. Get a tux. Make her feel special. Then tell her how you feel.” She extended the envelope. “There’s two tickets in here. Take them.”
“I can pay you for them,” Connor offered, even as he took the envelope. He’d never loved getting all dressed up, but the idea of taking Dahlia to the gala actually sparked a measure of excitement in his chest. The Coral Monarch, all decorated for Christmas, would be about as romantic a setting as he could ask for. “Grandma June told me you gave her a comp ticket too. I never thanked you for that, by the way. She’s excited to go.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Peyton said. “The Southern Society sent over a dozen comp tickets for us to use, but we don’t need them all. Will’s business partners are all in England for Christmas, so it’s just him and me this year. And you know Grandma June will have more fun if you’re there too.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I mean, you’ll have to share a table with me and Will and Grandma June, but as long as that doesn’t matter . . .”
“No, of course it doesn’t. Thank you for this.” He looked from the gala tickets in his hand back to Peyton. “Do you mind still taking care of getting Grandma June there? I have a feeling I’m going to be really distracted.”
Peyton smiled. “Absolutely. We’ve already worked everything out. You can just show up and surprise her if you want.”
Connor grinned. He did like the idea of surprising Grandma June. She never got to see him wearing a tux.
“I’m really happy for you, Connor,” Peyton said.
Something settled in Connor’s heart—something he’d been missing for a very long time. The warmth in Peyton’s gaze, the acknowledgement of his feelings for Dahlia, and a plan to finally get over himself and move forward with his life had melded into one singular feeling.
Peace.
Connor said goodbye to Peyton and drove the short distance to his grandmother’s house, accepting the hot breakfast she immediately set to making for him, the shower she insisted he take, and the bed he was too tired to refuse. But even as he drifted off, he couldn’t stop thinking about Dahlia, about his feelings, about the night he hoped to make among the most memorable of her life. He needed to call her, he realized as his thoughts drifted toward sleep. After the kiss, she would expect him to call. But he would . . . just . . . sleep . . . first.
Chapter 17
Dahlia
After dinner at Lily’s on Sunday night, Dahlia didn’t start to wonder if Connor was actually going to call until Tuesday afternoon. She’d guessed he’d had to work all night, since he’d gone into work so late, which meant he’d likely slept through most of Monday. And she had no idea what the rest of his work schedule looked like for the week, only that paramedics worked crazy hours and long shifts so work could be an absolutely viable reason for him not to call.
But he could have texted. Even a few words before going to sleep or . . . something. Anything to let her know that she wasn’t crazy, that their kiss really had been life-altering, and that he did, in fact, want to see her again.
He had to want to see her again. Dahlia had kissed more than a few men in her life. But she’d never felt half of what she’d felt kissing Connor. In those blinding, shifting moments, she had glimpsed their entire future in a single blink. She had sensed his urgency, but it had been underscored with an aching tenderness.
Connor was a complex man, she’d grown to realize, but he was good to his very core. It had been easy to see at the toy drive, watching him interact with the kids with so much patience and joy. Men like that didn’t come along very often. So he was a little stubborn. And had some ridiculous opinions about rich people. But she’d take it. All of it. Whatever his hang-ups, she was happy and willing to work through them.
If only he’d call.
Dahlia dropped onto her sofa. Or she could call him.
She pulled out her phone and texted Deacon, asking him to send Connor’s number, which she oddly still didn’t have. When he didn’t respond after a minute or two of waiting, she texted Lily.
He’s in court, she texted back. I doubt he’ll be out until five or six.
Dahlia sighed heavily. Her life had involved too much waiting as of late. Waiting for Connor to call. Waiting for school to start. Waiting for letters to arrive.
Letters. She glanced at the clock. The mail would have just arrived. She hadn’t gotten a letter from her pen pal since before the toy drive over a week ago. But she still felt a thrill of excitement when she checked her mailbox every day. She would have thought she’d learned her lesson by now. But boredom and hope were cruel partners; with nothing else to distract her, her hope was all she had.
Pushing herself from the sofa, she grabbed her mail key and slowly made her way outside. It was a short walk to the bank of mailboxes at the center of her apartment complex, but she still wished she’d grabbed a sweater. The unseasonably cool weather had continued into the week.
The mailman was just walking away when Dahlia approached. He smiled at her as they passed. “Merry Christmas,” he said kindly.
Dahlia did her best to tamp down the hope that insisted on filling her chest. She didn’t even know what she was hoping for. If Connor was behind the letters—and he had to be, really—she only wanted to get a letter if Connor knew it was her he was writing to. The last thing she wanted was for him to be writing some other girl while he was kissing her. But Connor had to know it was her. She’d told him she was the one responsible for answering the Santa letters at the toy drive, hadn’t she? She closed her eyes and thought back over their conversations that day. She had to have told him. And if he knew that, and he asked about olives, and he mentioned the book he’d read that she’d recommended . . . that was a lot of evidence.
But what if she hadn’t told him? What if he didn’t know? Then a letter in her mailbox was the last thing she wanted to see. Unless Connor wasn’t the letter writer. In which case, someone new might be just the distraction she’d need to get over the broken heart she’d for sure be nursing if Connor didn’t actually call.
“Ma’am?”
Dahlia turned to see a kid, maybe ten or so, standing behind her.
“Are you okay?”
“What? Oh. Yeah. I’m good.”
The kid just stared at her. “Are you going to check your mail?”
Dahlia swallowed. How long had she been standing there staring at her mailbox? “Of course,” she finally said.
The kid held up a mail key. “Are you gonna check it today?”
“Oh. Sorry. You go ahead. I was just . . . thinking.”
Dahlia stepped out of the way and let the kid check his mail, ignoring the glances he kept tossing over his shoulder, like she was some kind of crazy person he needed to be leery of. When he finally disappeared down the sidewalk, Dahlia wasted no more time. She opened her mailbox, her heart nearly tripling its speed when she saw that she did, actually, have a letter.
It was the only thing in the box.
She pulled it out, hands trembling, and pressed it against her chest.
It felt wrong to open it out in the courtyard, so she hurried back to her apartment, willing herself to stay calm. When she was finally back inside, she dropped back into the same spot she’d left only minutes before and stared down at the letter.
This was it.
The swirling nerves in her stomach told her that whatever her future held, the letter would have something to do with it.
Gently, she tore the seal and pulled out a single sheet of stationery. When she unfolded it, a second sheet of paper fluttered to her lap. She picked it up. “A ticket to the Christmas Gala,” she said to herself.
She turned her attention to the letter.
Dear Christmas Pen Pal,
I’m sorry it has taken me so long to write. It’s been a busy couple of wee
ks, though I imagine this close to Christmas that’s an excuse we could all give. Admittedly, I have been busy with regular, Christmassy things. I’ve been searching for the perfect gift for my Grandma. She’s incredibly hard to shop for. When you’re eighty-two, you’ve had enough time to collect everything that you need. I was thinking I might get her a new pie plate, but that feels self-serving. Because I’m the person she makes pies for the most.
If you have any last-minute suggestions, I’d love to hear them. Otherwise, I might be giving her a coupon book for hugs from her grandson.
Joking aside, I’ve also been busy learning the past few weeks. Things about myself, about others. About how I view the world around me. It wasn’t the easiest work, but it was liberating in a lot of ways. Because now I know exactly what I want in life.
I want to be in love.
Not just with anyone though.
With you.
The truth is, I think I already am.
I think it’s time we meet in person. Come to the Christmas Gala with me? There’s a back patio facing the ocean at the Coral Monarch. I’ll be there at seven. I hope you will be too.
With love, C.M.
Dahlia read the letter a second time, then a third. It had to be Connor. Didn’t it? There was only one line that kept tripping her up. I think it’s time we meet in person.
Would Connor say as much since they’d obviously already met?
Frustrated, she picked up her phone and called Lily, hoping a second opinion might offer some clarity. She read the letter, then sighed dramatically. “What do you think? Is it him?”
Lily sniffed. “Who cares? That’s the most perfect letter ever written. Whoever wrote it is definitely the man you want to be with.”
The Christmas Letters: A Magnolia Bay Romantic Comedy Page 13
