Page 61 of The Holiday Games

Maybe I really will be okay again…eventually. Or just get good enough at faking it that my family and friends will stop worrying about me.

“I know. I’m awful.” She shrugs and beams over to where Harry is feeding fresh logs into the fire. “But I can’t help it. He’s just the best.”

“Heisthe best,” I agree, even as my brain sends images of Leo smiling at me dancing through my head like torturous sugarplums.

He’sthe best and none of this is his fault. He has no idea why I stabbed a knife in his heart and ran away without anything close to a decent explanation. He must be so hurt and confused.

He probably hates me.

Or maybe he’s lying in bed, binging takeout and watching It’s a Wonderful Life on repeat, as low and miserable as I am.

Or maybe he went to the Radio City show solo, met a sexy Rockette, and is already rebounding with a vengeance.

The thought is enough to make my eyes begin to water again, but I dig my fingernails into my palms and keep it together. Thirty more minutes. I just have to keep the cheery innkeeper façade in place for thirty more minutes. Then, I can go home, change into my Grinch pajamas, and sob my way through another box of tissues. I bought the kind with lotion at the store yesterday, a sad, luxurious splurge during this, my winter of discontent.

“But he’s not perfect,” Kayla adds. “Remember when he forgot our anniversary two years ago? And that time he bought veal, even though I’ve told him at least a dozen times that the thought of eating baby cow makes me want to cry?”

I frown, wondering what she’s getting at. “Yes, I do. Why? You’re not trying to talk yourself out of getting married this summer, are you? I know your mom thinks you should have alonger engagement, but this is your life, not hers. If you don’t want to wait, you shouldn’t.”

Kayla bites her lip as she picks nervously at the bottom of her Rudolph sweater. “No, it’s not that, I just… Please, keep an open mind, okay? I know you make excellent decisions and usually have no reason to second guess yourself, but we’re all wrong every once and a while. I know I certainly am. Harry, too. We all make mistakes or think things should be one way, but with a little perspective, we realize they don’t have to be. They can be a different way. Or…the same way, but we can handle them differently. Or we can handle more than we thought we could handle, you know?”

“No, not at all.” My throat tightens with foreboding, but before I can demand to know what she’s up to, I hear Vivian’s laughter from across the room.

My head jerks to the right, my blood pressure spiking as my cousin and her family file inside, exchanging pleasantries with the other locals attending the reading as they move toward the cookie station.

I whip my gaze back to Kayla to ask why Vivian’s here, after I explicitly asked her to tell my cousin we were too full to welcome locals this year. But Kayla’s already on the move, bustling across the room to dim the lights. “All right, folks,” she burbles in her hospitality voice, “It’s almost story time. Find a cozy spot and settle in while I light The Night Before Christmas candle!”

Gritting my teeth, I collect the leatherbound book from the shelf and move to the small raised platform beside the tree. When we first started this tradition, I sat in the overstuffed chair in the corner and read to the ten or twelve kids who showed up in their pajamas. But in the past five years, the event has grown, becoming the first stop in the Christmas Eve festivities for guests and locals alike.

People fill up on cookies and cocoa here before walking through the light display behind the country store and ending the evening with a Santa watch and caroling in the town square. The kids have a blast, and the grown-ups do, too.

I should have known my cousin would ignore the request to stay away. As selfish as she can be, she wouldn’t want to deprive my nephews of one of their holiday traditions.

I don’t want to do that, either, but I’d be lying if I said my stomach wasn’t eating itself as my gaze flicks over Gilly’s sweet little face. He doesn’t look like Leo—he has Vivian’s blond curls and giant hazel eyes—but that doesn’t matter. I know he’s Leo’s son, and I can’t unknow that, no matter how much I might want to.

And maybe their appearance on the scene is a good thing. Maybe, if I move fast enough, I can catch Vivian and pull her aside before they leave the inn.

I have to convince her to contact Leo and tell him the truth, before the burden of this secret eats me alive.

But first, to pretend I’m in the holiday spirit for a little bit longer…

“Welcome everyone. I’m so glad you could join us tonight,” I say, with a smile that begins to feel more natural as I scan the faces lifted to mine. Everyone looks so happy, so excited for the night ahead and the chance to share this special time of year with the people who matter most.

Thereislove in the world, and I’m so grateful for it, even while I’m chin-deep in the swamp of broken hearts.

“Cuddle your stuffies close and listen for sleigh bells,” I say, the usual magic creeping into my voice as Kayla dims the lights a bit more. “Because this is Santa’s favorite story, and sometimes he swings by to listen in.”

“That’s why we left cookies on the front porch!” a little girl with bright red curls calls out from the back, sending a wave of laughter through the room.

I nod. “That’s right. And carrots, too, for the reindeer. And now, The Night Before Christmas by Clement Clarke Moore.”

I pull in a breath, but before I can read the first line, a gasp sounds from the corner of the room and my cousin squawks, “What are you doing here? You have to go. Now! Right now!”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not until I talk to Caroline,” a deep voice rumbles, sending electricity jolting through me.

My eyes meet Leo’s across the room and my heart soars.

Nothing has changed, our stars are still crossed beyond repair, but I can’t help it, I can’t look at this man without joy flooding through my every cell.

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