Page 111 of The Hockey Grump Saves Christmas

This must be what it felt like in those medieval executions where they cut out your insides while you’re still alive. Unfortunately, I caught the end of a National Geographic show about that a few weeks ago while I was waiting for the Komodo dragon special to start.

I can’t believe I’ve managed to make everything worse. I was trying to make it better, but instead I’ve set fire to the one good thing in my life—my relationship with my parents.

Like Natalie said, I’ve distanced myself from everyone so much that these two are my only friends.

And now I’m driving them away too.

CHAPTER 35

NATALIE

“There you go.” Polly, the owner of the produce store, slides a large brown bag stuffed with organic goodies across the counter. “Say hi to Lou for me.”

In the three days since I read Gabe’s letter on Saturday, I’ve been trying to pack every waking moment with activities to take my mind off the churning void in my stomach and chest that’s like the bingo tumbler at the retirement village.

In fact, overhauling bingo night has been one of the things I’ve busied myself with. It now has new signage, redesigned game cards, a playlist for when everyone’s gathering, and I even managed to fix the crackle in the caller’s microphone with the help of countless YouTube videos.

I also completely reorganized the movie night concession stand and baked and froze enough chocolate chip cookies for the next five Sundays.

I’ve run every errand that I, Aunt Lou, and most of theresidents needed—including stocking up on things the seniors hadn’t asked for but I thought they’d find useful. And I’ve almost finished packing up everything I need to take to New Orleans with me.

The worst time is when I’m in bed and trying to sleep. There’s no escape from myself there. I’ve now lain awake for most of the last three nights telling myself how stupid I was to get involved with Gabe. Wondering how I could be such a fool as to let myself fall for a man I knew all along I would never be able to have. It was always obviously a terrible idea with no future.

But then there’s also the heart-melting image of him giving Grayson his gloves, the sexy thoughtfulness of laying out his coat on the theater seat for me, the care of wrapping me in a blanket by the fire, and the way he remembered my story about the ice cream and went to all the time, effort, and expense to get it shipped from Italy in little more than a day.

So why have I cried more tears over a man I’ve known for a week than I did over the end of my seven-year relationship with Todd?

All my tossing and turning has come to only one conclusion. I fell for Gabe. I fell hard and I fell fast. I knew better. But I did it anyway.

It’s less than two weeks till I move to New Orleans. I might have previously wondered whether it was the right decision, but now I’m thanking all the gods and goddesses that I have a fresh start on the horizon. A chance to put all this nonsense behind me. A chance to not have to look at that seat in the front row of the theater. A chance to not have to walk past the pond where Gabe broke up the kids’ fight. And a chance to not have to see Fool’s Hill in thebackground of every fucking thing I look at when I’m out and about in town.

And right now, I’m here picking up Aunt Lou’s fruit and veggie supply for the week. She’s cooking us a vegetable curry tonight and baking a clementine and lemon tart for the Christmas Day dinner for the residents who aren’t away with family.

This year it looks like just Cecil, Mrs. B., Aunt Lou and me.

“Thanks.” I wrap my arms around the bag.

“Are you okay?” Carly, Polly’s assistant, leans on the counter next to me.

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks.” Do I really look that bad that people are commenting on it? “There’s a lot going on at Senior Central, and what with me moving and everything. So I’m a bit worn out, I guess. But totally fine.”

“Worn out, yeah. Must be that,” Carly says.

“Stop it,” Polly tells her.

“What?” Carly holds up her palms with the exaggerated shock of the guilty.

“You don’t have to tolerate this,” Polly tells me.

“All I’m saying”—Carly scratches her nose right next to the sparkly stud in it—“is that Nat is usually the perkiest of the perky. And today she looks really…” She tips her head to the side as if to get a better angle on me. It causes her bun to flop over. “Un-perky. In fact, I’d go so far as to say sad.”

“You can just leave, you know,” Polly says to me. “And ignore her.”

“You mean before I ask where the hunky hockey player is?” Carly folds her arms across the bib of her Polly’s Produce apron.

I could quite happily crawl into thegiant display of brussels sprouts and never come out. Are people really talking? Gossiping? I guess we must have looked kind of flirty playing the pig tail game at the festival. And cozy in the sleigh afterward.

Hell, wewereflirting. And itwascozy in the sleigh.

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