Page 28 of The Holiday Fail

He flipped his hand under mine, unfurling his fist to thread our fingers together. And suddenly, we were holding hands, and I found it hard to breathe. But still, I didn’t pull back because Andy was now playing with my fingers, and the action seemed to comfort him, and he needed that right now.

So I stayed like that, frozen and barely getting enough air into my lungs, as I continued listening to his soft voice.

“I vowed that wouldn’t be me. I’d make something of myself, even if I didn’t have a fancy college degree or professional training. I’d put in the effort and work my way up. I’d prove to everyone who doubted me or told me I’d fail and may as well give up right then and there. I’d prove them wrong,” he finished, his eyes piercing me with determination.

My heart broke for him, for the fact there were people in his life putting him down like that. I was fortunate to have parents who believed in everything I did. No matter how many times I stumbled or fell, they encouraged me, telling me I didn’t need to rush to find my path.

I hated that not every kid had that. I especially hated that Andy didn’t have that kind of support.

“You will. Youare,” I insisted, hoping I didn’t sound like I was saying the words with no weight to them.

I meantthem.

I might not understand the background he came from, but there was one thing I was absolutely certain about: Andy knew his way around the kitchen.

The B&B had never gotten this many compliments about our food before. Our previous chef was good, but she was no Andy. She didn’t make everything that came out of the kitchen taste like literal magic.

My words seemed to have gotten to him. He squeezed myhand, gentle and appreciative. He smiled and, probably for the first time since I’d met him, his furrowed brow smoothed completely.

His brow might be smooth now, but the same couldn’t be said for the strange knot in my stomach.

Chapter Thirteen

ANDY

I didn’t know what prompted me to basically spill my life story to Levi, but there was something about him that screamedtrustworthy.

Maybe it was the way his face spilled all his emotions. I hoped he never gambled, because he had a shit of a poker face.

Or perhaps it was the calm energy he seemed to exude. It was so different from the hustle and bustle I’d been used to in New York.

There, we didn’t have time to sit and spill our guts. We were always moving and pushing closer to the next goal or risk being left behind.

The familiar anxiety ofnever doing enoughhad followed me all my life, but next to Levi, I allowed myself tobreathe. At least just for the moment, and it worked.

The rest of dinner turned lighter, and maybe that was because we got the heavier stuff out of the way in the beginning. We chatted, laughed more often than not, and exchanged praises for the food.

I ordered the pot-au-feu, which I had no complaints about.It was rich and hearty, but not overwhelming. It was the perfect fall comfort food. For dessert, we got a soufflé to share since neither of us was huge on sweets. It was light and fluffy, and delectably gooey in the center.

Everything we ordered was so on point that I wouldn’t have been surprised if the owner of the restaurant was a Michelin Star chef. Though I had to wonder what a chef with this much talent was doing in a small town like Wintertown. This place had its charm, but it was no New York, or Paris, or any of the high-scale metropolises.

When I spoke my thoughts out loud, Levi shrugged and replied, “Not everyone wants that kind of life. Some are happier with the simple lifestyle our small town has to offer.”

I knew he was right, but I had a hard time understanding. My world was filled with people pumping out attention-seeking social media posts. Only showing the best parts of their world for the likes and comments that boosted their ego until the next post.

It was the reason I stayed off social media when my friends insisted it was an important part of getting my name out there. I saw the way social media had a grasp on people. Constantly checking their phones and basing their self-worth on the number of likes their post received.

No, thank you.

I already struggled to find my self-worth on a normal day as it was. I didn’t need social media’s help on that front.

“I’m not saying the big city life isn’t good either,” Levi quickly added. He must have taken my silence as me being offended. So I reached out and took his hand because, apparently, we were doing that now.

He relaxed at my touch, then said, “It’s just different.”

I nodded, agreeing with him, but still not really understanding. I thought about his words for the rest of the week.

It was different.

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