Page 31 of A Curvy Wonderland

He nodded, looking at me with an expression that gave none of his emotions away.

My heart hammered against my ribcage, almost painfully, as we stepped out of the warm café into the frigid night air.

I wrapped my shawl tighter around me as I stepped off the path and into a row of Christmas trees backlit by Christmas lights. It was beautiful, and a part of my mind wanted to freeze the image forever. But I knew I was seconds away from facing feelings that were less than magical.

So once we had some privacy, I turned to face him, squaring my shoulders and trying to steady my breath. Finally, I asked, “How did you do it? How did you get him home?”

One corner of his mouth lifted in half a smile. “When I heard he wasn't going to make it back in time, I found a charity to help get him on a private flight.”

I put my hand over my heart, because it was so sweet. Regardless of what had happened between us, he had given the girls such an incredible gift, and I couldn’t be more grateful. “Thank you so much for bringing him home. I think they’ll always remember this as the best Christmas ever.” And it hit me that that had been my wish. I'd wished for the best Christmas ever, but I hadn’t exactly specified for whom. Maybe this was just some Garland magic making my wish come true. “So when I told you their dad wasn't coming back, you just got to work?”

“Actually, their wish was the first one on the tree.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a white wooden ornament and flipped it over so I could see Lucy’s beginner handwriting and red marker.

Bring my daddy home. Lucy Wright.

Eldan said, “When I saw it, I asked my mom what it meant, and she got to talking with Delilah. That's how this whole thing came about with the four of us… I know I'm not always the warmest person or the most welcoming, but I do care.”

There was something behind his words—a vulnerable pain at being misunderstood.

“I know.” Despite myself, I reached out and squeezed his hand, only for a second. “It’s amazing what you did—getting all of those wishes and making them come true. It's like you're the Garland star.”

He tilted his head with a wry smile. “Actually, there was one wish I still haven't gotten to yet.”

Something in me sparked. Maybe nostalgia, or just my inner romantic. I loved the idea of one last mission with Eldan. Maybe it would make all my heartache feel worth it. “Can we make it happen tonight?” I asked him.

“Maybe.” He reached into his pocket, retrieving a second ornament, and passed it to me.

19

ELDAN

The last few days had been torture, knowing I messed everything up with Holly because of my fears. I’d put a lot of thought into what I could do to make it right, but ultimately, Holly could say no. She could be done with me because of how I’d behaved—and I wouldn’t blame her at all.

Nerves ricocheted through my system as I watched her read the one ornament I’d made for myself.

I wish for a second chance with Holly. - Eldan

She looked up at me, her dark brown eyes speaking volumes to her emotions. Doubt, worry, disappointment, something that looked like hope… How amazing, that she could pour her feelings into a simple look while I fought to keep myself protected, private.

“About us...” she began, but my heart squeezed at the thought of her saying no without me getting to truly apologize. So I held up my hand, hoping for a second to gather my thoughts and speak.

She fell silent, waiting while I took a deep breath. Then, the words came out of me slowly, careful and raw. “One thing about being adopted is that there will be a part of me, always, that worries once someone truly gets to know me, they'll leave.”

The confession put me under the microscope, showing my weakest points. I forced myself to hold her gaze, even though the compassion, the understanding, nearly undid me.

After a deep breath, I continued, “So that night, when I kissed you, I felt like we were getting closer. And the next morning, when you didn't come back, my mind imagined the worst. That you saw more of who I really was and didn't like it.”

I tried to keep my voice steady, but it broke on the last sentence, showing just how awful my thoughts had been that morning. How the pain in my chest made me want to curl up in my bed and hide away.

“I pushed you away when you texted because in my mind you had already left,” I explained. “And I didn't want to get hurt anymore. I know it wasn't right to cut you out like that, and I'm going to work through it—I already have an appointment set with our family counselor for after Christmas—but I thought you should know that you didn't do anything wrong. I did. I'm sorry.”

I watched her, trying to judge her reaction. I’d put all of myself out there for someone who wasn’t a friend I’d known for years or my parents who loved me no matter what. And I felt like an open target, and her words a quiver of arrows waiting to be thrown without her lifting a finger.

She reached up, pressing the corners of her eyes like she was holding back tears.

My heart squeezed even more at the sadness I saw on her face. I continued speaking, saying, “I can't promise I won't mess up again, or won’t be my usually grumpy self”—she cracked a watery smile at that—"but I can promise that I will keep trying to improve. I don't want this, you and me, to end with Christmas.”

There it was. All of me out in the open. I had no more to say. No more to give. I’d already given her all of myself, my painful past, my fears, my hopes that felt just as scary to feel, much less say out loud.

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