This Christmas

by Olivia Miles

  It was from Lucas.

  He’d been to her apartment. He wanted to talk.

  He missed her.

  He missed her. Lucas missed her. She should be thrilled. She should be elated. She should be thinking, yep, she knew he’d come around. That four years weren’t for nothing. That she wouldn’t end up like her mother, miserable and alone. That he loved her. That she wasn’t a fool. That she hadn’t been dishonest with herself. That they actually wanted the same things out of life.

  But all she could think of were her sisters’ words. And that maybe, they were right. Sure, Lucas had committed to her for four years, as an adult, in his thirties, but what had he committed to? Weekends at coffee shops and brunch and walks through Central Park and late-night movies and Chinese takeout from that little place with the best egg rolls?

  It would be so easy to fall back into that. It was her routine. Her life.

  But was it her future? Because she was pretty sure that this was all he was offering.

  “Everything okay?” Jules asked. She was handing a hot chocolate out to her expectantly; the steam was curling up in the chilly air. They were standing in the middle of the town square, shivering in their coats and standing as close as they could to one of the many bonfires that were set up around the snow-covered park. Tess and Phoebe were signing up for the sledding races, and in the distance, music was playing, the holiday variety, of course. They were in the middle of a sea of familiar faces, at a festival that she had attended year after year and had abandoned at some point in time.

  Once this had been her life, her routine, too.

  Carrie shook away the cobwebs and accepted the paper cup, letting it warm her hands. “Just lost in thought.”

  “You’ve been lost in thought since we left the house,” Jules replied. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You sure everything is okay?”

  “I’m fine, really. Just tired from staying up so late last night,” she added quickly. A convenient excuse but an untrue one. Really, what she had been thinking was that it was Friday morning, the day before Christmas Eve, and that Lucas was probably in his office in Midtown. She could slip away and call him, hear his voice, connect with her old life. But for some reason, the thought of it made her feel more agitated than relieved. What would it change? He hadn’t suddenly decided he wanted marriage and children. Maybe, he hadn’t even truly decided that he wanted her.

  And she wasn’t so sure she wanted him. Not when she thought of all the sacrifices it would require. Sacrifices like this town and all these traditions that he would find quaint and silly and boring.

  That she had convinced herself she had, too.

  “You know what I think? I think you’re thinking about Lucas again.” Jules wagged a gloved finger at her.

  Carrie gave her a withering look. She couldn’t hold it in forever, not with Jules pestering her like this. “Is it that obvious?”

  Jules groaned. “You know he’s such a terrible jerk, Carrie. Think about it. Did he encourage you to come see Tess last winter? Or was he too busy thinking about his big promotion party?”

  Carrie frowned. She hadn’t even thought about this. But no, Lucas hadn’t encouraged her to go. In fact, his exact words were that he was sorry that she wouldn’t be able to go, since it conflicted with his big weekend. He’d answered the question for her. Looking back, she hadn’t even found a chance to ask.

  “He sent flowers,” she said, but the gesture felt weak, even to her ears. At the time she’d thought that was so sensitive of him, that he cared about her feelings, cared about Tess and Phoebe. But now she saw it differently. He was covering his bases.

  And she’d looked like the bad guy.

  “It’s my fault,” she said firmly. “I should have come. Nothing should have kept me away.”

  “You were torn. Lucas didn’t make your life easy, Carrie. I think you were too close to the situation to see that. Holding tightly onto someone doesn’t mean that they’ll never leave you.”

  A day ago, Carrie would have, reluctantly, agreed with this statement, but then she thought of Lucas’s text, still unanswered, saved on the phone in her pocket. Maybe her sisters were wrong. They were mad. Rising to her defense. The way they always had. It’s what sisters did.

  “Not every man is our father,” she said to Jules.

  Jules looked surprised but didn’t argue. “I didn’t say that every man was.”

  They fell silent as they walked through the festival, stopping to admire some crafts for sales: knitted goods in thick wool, wooden ornaments painted in bright, primary colors that reminded her of her students and her life in New York, and handmade rag dolls that she would have loved as a child.

  “And what about you?” Carrie was eager to get off the topic of Lucas and how terrible everyone had always found him to be. It didn’t sit right with her. Not when she had spent four years with him. Not when she had wanted to marry him. Not when a part of her still did. And that was just the problem. “What’s going on with you and Cole?”

  “Oh. That.” Jules gave a mysterious smile as she sipped her hot chocolate. “You know we always had chemistry.”

  “Chemistry isn’t everything,” Carrie replied. Still, it had always been there with Lucas. Even after four years, she still felt her heart race when she spotted him in the room. Still felt warm and fuzzy when he laughed at one of her jokes.

  Did he feel the same? Or had it slipped, somewhere over the last few months, leading him astray, into the arms of the girl with the scarf?

  It didn’t matter now, she told herself. He’d panicked. He’d been confused.

  But he’d come back. He missed her. And he wanted her back.

  And Jules was right about that. She couldn’t compare all men with their father. Because their father had never come back.

  And eventually, she’d stopped waiting for the day that he would.

  She’d thought she’d eventually get to that point with Lucas too. Hoped she would, at least. But now…Well, now Lucas had gone and turned the tables on her.

  And it was just like Lucas to keep things on his terms, wasn’t it?

  “Lucas called,” she blurted, before she could even stop herself or consider the consequences of revealing this to Jules. Now she would be accountable, now she would have to take action, but maybe that’s what she wanted. Maybe by telling Jules it was her head overriding her heart for once, keeping her on track.

  Jules looked appropriately stunned. “What did he say?”

  “He left a message,” Carrie said. She hesitated. “He said he missed me.”

  Jules’s eyelids drooped. “He misses you. Please tell me you’re not going back to that, Carrie.”

  Carrie must have hesitated a moment too long. Jules swatted her arm—hard, nearly hard enough to slosh her hot chocolate—and cried, “Carrie! We talked about this! Have you learned nothing?”

  “Maybe…” Carrie drifted off. The word felt weak, even to her own ears. Maybe what? He suddenly wanted two kids and a riding lawn mower?

  “Maybe he’s bored. Maybe that other girl didn’t work out.”

  “Or maybe he really loves me,” Carrie said firmly, and Jules sighed.

  “He doesn’t deserve you, Carrie. But I can’t be the one to tell you that. You have to come to that decision on your own.”

  “You sound disappointed in me,” Carrie said, stepping back.

  Jules shook her head sadly. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned recently, it’s that love comes in all shapes, and that’s complicated. And that even when you want to run from it, sometimes you can’t.”

  Carrie stared at Jules, wondering if they were still discussing her own situation and suspecting that they were not. Could Jules really be thinking of Cole Dempsey of all people? They’d dated briefly, like, a decade ago!

  Still, her words were what Carrie needed right now. No judgment attached. Just…good intention.

  “So what are you going to do? “Jules sipped her drink and watched her carefull
y.

  “I don’t know yet,” Carrie said honestly. “But I know that I don’t want things to be the way they were.”

  Jules looked down at the snow. “Funny. I was just thinking that all I want is for things to be the way they were.”

  Carrie thought about that as they went in search of Tess and Phoebe. After all, it wasn’t so bad, being back here. If anything, she was starting to think it might actually be hard to give it up again.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jules

  Cole Dempsey was giving her one of those looks. The kind of look that said a hundred words without saying anything at all. The kind of look he used to throw her way on those late summer afternoons when he pulled up to the front of her house, where she’d be sitting on the creaky old porch swing, a glass of lemonade sweating in her hand, a book in her lap, her sandals dangling from her toes. Her heart would skip a beat, and she’d manage to just barely suppress a smile as she opened the screen door to call out to her mother not to wait up. Not that her mother ever did. Her mother practically lived in that bed when the dark moods hit her. Other times, she’d be on the back enclosed porch that she’d turned into her studio, sanding and staining the pieces that she labored over, that kept her mind as busy as her hands.

  Now Jules’s stomach did the same little flutter it had ten years ago, and she bit down on her lip to hide her pleasure. So he was cute. Lots of guys were cute. But did they all know how to make her stomach flip and how to get her heart rate going?

  Cole was exciting. He was fresh. And right now, he was the perfect distraction.

  Jules glanced over at Carrie, deciding that it was safe to wander off without her. Carrie had found a group of friends from their school days, women who were now married and wrestling children wearing brightly colored snowsuits. Jules wondered if this bothered Carrie, what with Lucas not wanting kids, and all, but Carrie didn’t look upset by this. She loved kids, but Jules could only hope that there wasn’t more to it. That she wasn’t going to fall into the Lucas trap again. That she would have better judgment this time. Not that Jules could really talk, she thought, as her eyes flicked back to Cole.

  She pushed out a breath and made her decision. Carrie seemed okay where she was, laughing when one of the little boys picked a snowball off the ground and began to lick it like an ice cream cone. Tess and Phoebe were off doing their own thing. It would be best if it could all go unnoticed, then she wouldn’t have to explain. Because there was nothing to explain. There was nothing going on with her and Cole. It was just a little fun.

  After all, she was good at fun. Fun was fleeting. You didn’t have to worry about it being anything more than that.

  Jules stood up from the bench where she’d been sitting, sipping another hot chocolate and trying to stay warm near the bonfire. She’d been thinking about getting a few of those cider donuts for sale, but that could wait for now, as long as they didn’t sell out first. Cole was waiting for her. If she stalled much longer, he might actually stalk over here, and wouldn’t that raise a few eyebrows.

  In a town this small, people knew everything about everyone. She walked over to Cole slowly, and not just because she was afraid of slipping on the packed-down snow that was warming under the dozens of lanterns that were set up in the square. She didn’t want to appear too eager. It put you at a disadvantage. Opened you up for rejection and hurt.

  Of all the guys she’d ever dated (and there had been many over the years, she supposed), she’d never called first. Sometimes she didn’t even return calls. She’d never cooked dinner like the way she knew Carrie did for Lucas. Look how that had turned out! Jules hadn’t needed a crystal ball to know that her sister’s relationship was doomed.

  Sure, she’d thrown a pizza in the oven for Aaron. And she called him pretty much all the time. But that was different. She and Aaron hadn’t dated. She didn’t have to worry about him.

  Until now.

  Her stomach heaved as her heart sank a little further. She blinked against the blinding white snow, wishing she had brought her sunglasses, if only to cover the sadness that she knew was showing in her eyes. She lifted her chin and focused on Cole as she neared the picnic table at the southern edge of the square where he sat, away from the rest of the crowd. It was colder here, away from the lanterns and the people and the stands set up with food and drinks and games, and she shivered as she came to sit beside him.

  “Move a little closer,” he said, sliding her a grin. “I don’t bite.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at him, still fighting a smile. “Never said you did.” Still, she wasn’t so sure that she wanted him to put his arm around her or anything. More and more, she wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore, and that was just the trouble. Life was so much easier when you didn’t want anything. When you were just content with what you had in the moment, not worrying about the future.

  But now she was worried about the future. Sure, she’d get another freelance gig, and another after that, because she always did, but the thought of bouncing around filled her with uncertainty, and something else, something deeper. Something like…anxiety, she realized.

  Cole was still grinning at her and she pulled in a breath, told herself to shake this off. She was just out of sorts. The week was winding down. Christmas was nearly here. She’d worry about what happened next in January. Like usual.

  “Then why’d you stay away so long?” he asked, still grinning.

  She frowned a little. She didn’t like to think that she’d stayed away. She’d come back for the milestones, for the big, life-changing events. And she would have come back more often, too, if she’d thought she would have been helpful.

  “I’ve been back to town. Besides, my life is in Boston now.”

  He scooted a little closer to her, until they were shoulder to shoulder. “And what does Boston have that Winter Lake doesn’t? Hmm?”

  She was about to say Aaron, but stopped herself, blinked against the shock of that revelation. After all, what did Boston have? She had no job, no commitment to anything or anyone. Her apartment wasn’t anything to brag about, it could easily be replaced and she had little attachment to it. It was small and functional. But it was all hers. And it was home.

  “We have mountains. And a lake. And festivals.” He elbowed her, and against the heaviness in her chest, she grinned.

  Cole was handsome. He was exciting. He was fun.

  But he wasn’t Aaron. And that should be fine. Except that it wasn’t.

  Cole adjusted the hat on top of her head so that more of her face was exposed. “And I happen to know something else that Winter Lake offers that Boston doesn’t,” he said.

  “Fresh air?” she asked, laughing a little. She readjusted the cap, pulling it down over her ears the way she liked it. The air was crisp, clear, and smelled faintly of pine. It was the smell of Winter Lake, she thought, smiling to herself. But somehow, it wasn’t the smell of home. Home was where the heart was. And her heart…

  She pulled in a breath, resisting a sigh.

  Her heart was with Aaron. She could get up, right now, walk away from Cole and not really care to look back. But she couldn’t walk away from Aaron. And she couldn’t bear the thought of him walking away from her.

  Her biggest fear. She’d tried to avoid this exact situation. And yet she was facing it head on just the same.

  Cole arched an eyebrow at her. It was quite a devilish look and one that he no doubt practiced in the mirror starting around the age of twelve. A signature move that now seemed a bit overdone, really. He was trying hard. And so was she. And she was starting to think that it shouldn’t be that way at all. She didn’t want empty, flirty banter. She wanted…connection. Understanding.

  Trust. Something she’d somehow had all this while, even when she thought she was running from it.

  Cole was watching her steadily. That little smirk that used to make her perk up now left her a little flat. “I was thinking that Winter Lake has…me. You. You and me. I could show you what you�
�ve been missing if you hadn’t skipped town.”

  She was about to say that she hadn’t skipped town, that she hadn’t run from anything, but that wouldn’t be completely true. She’d run from a broken heart, she’d run from the pain.

  And she didn’t want to run any more.

  She opened her mouth to give an excuse, to leave, but she didn’t have a chance. Cole leaned in, scooped an arm around her waist and kissed her. His mouth was warm against the cold. His body solid.

  It was a nice kiss. A good kiss. A downright passionate kiss, if she was being honest with herself.

  But as she looked up into Cole’s eyes and then down to the curve of his lips and the invitation that was there, unspoken but mutually understood, she felt her body stiffen.

  She didn’t want to be seen sitting here, kissing Cole at the festival, or anywhere else for that matter. She’d much rather be walking from stand to stand, looking at the crafts for sale, buying gifts for her sisters and Phoebe, and eating a bag of those delicious cinnamon roasted nuts, talking to Aaron, knowing that he was by her side. That he always had been. And always would be.

  That he loved her.

  Because maybe, just maybe, she loved him too.

  Jules made up her excuse. It was easy. She had to find Tess and Phoebe. They’d been waiting in line for Santa last she’d checked. Surely they have moved on to something else by now? She didn’t react to Cole’s look of disappointment. It was part of his game, his banter, and his persona. Something told her that by the end of the festival, he’d find another girl to cozy up with.

  “You sure you have to run off so soon?” he asked, patting the empty space she had just occupied beside him. He waggled his eyebrows. Adorable? Maybe when they were eighteen. Now, she felt weary.

  “I promised my sister,” she said, tossing him an apologetic grin. Really, what had she been thinking, hanging around him this week? Oh, that’s right. She’d been running again. But running into Cole’s arms was not the answer.