Page 45 of A Gingerbread Romance

“Do you think you can ever forgive him?” Greta wondered if Abby was going to get down on her knees next and beg Greta to take Jonathan back. Did she really think Jonathan was that good for her? She switched the phone to her other ear, mulling it over.

When had anyone else in her life ever gone to such lengths for her, financially,andso selflessly as Jonathan had? She frowned.

“Aw, you’re no help, Abby. How can I stay mad at him if you keep giving me perfectly good reasons not to?”

“That’s the spirit.” Abby was quiet for a few seconds. “Do you want to know what I really think?”

“I don’t know. Do I?”

Abby chuckled. “Yes, you do.”

“Okay, then. What?”

“I think you should call him and tell him you’re ready to talk about it. And I think what he did was a really sweet gesture, even if he went about it wrong. I think the man deserves another chance.”

Greta inhaled again, deeply, and straightened her shoulders. She nodded into the phone. “Okay. Okay.” But how many chances could she give him?

* * *

“So,what are you going to do now?” Tim asked, pressing an iron rod into the hearth to stoke the fire as the twins raced back into the kitchen with their mother.

Jonathan had gone to Tim’s house for breakfast when Tim had called this morning, asking how things had gone with Greta last night. When Jonathan told him how disastrous the night turned out, he promptly invited him over.

He’d hoped to be sitting in front of a plate of pancakes and sausages with Greta this morning, but watching the boys open their presents and sharing a big breakfast with Tim and Trista and the kids was a lot better than being alone on Christmas morning. Linda had come over, too.

He’d stayed in New Haven Falls this long to spend more time with the people he cared about, after all. There was no point being sullen and moody about it, although—and it was probably obvious to Tim—he wasn’t quite feeling like himself.

“Well, I was hoping maybe Greta would cool off and agree to talk today. We’d been planning to spend the day together before this whole thing went down, and of course I’m assuming that’s off, but I was thinking I’d stop over around lunchtime, maybe? I’m going to pick up a little gift for her. Nothin’ much. Just something for the holiday.”

“Something to butter her up so she’ll talk to you?”

“Exactly,” said Jonathan flatly.

“Sounds like a plan,” said Tim with encouragement. He patted him on the shoulder. “She’ll come around, man. What you did wasn’t so bad at all, at least not in my opinion.”

“Thanks, bud. I appreciate it.”

A few hours later, Jonathan left the grocery store, the small tabletop Christmas pine he’d bought for Greta donned in red ribbons and white lights, under his arm. It was only a small offering, but one he hoped would at least open the door to a reasonable conversation. And maybe cheer them both up.

He'd thought about their argument all morning, and while he didn’t regret hiring Berg or keeping it from her at first, she was right. He should’ve told her sooner, and he’d known it. He’d just kept putting it off.

And ironically, there he’d been, worried about his own trust issues with women, and he’d gone and created a reason for her not to trust him.

She had every right to be angry with him. In fact, he was beginning to doubt he was ready for this relationship he’d started. He’d already hurt her, and they’d literally just begun dating.

Still, he needed to apologize properly and make her see that he’d only had her best interest at heart. Maybe then they could start over, fresh, and put this all behind them? And if not, well, then there was probably no hope for them, anyway.

He turned the corner onto her street and started toward her house, his pulse picking up.

* * *

Greta had showeredand dressed and done her hair and makeup, just as Abby had suggested, because today was a holiday, and Greta had no business throwing herself a pity party. She first needed to treat the day as if nothing was wrong, so she could go and fix whatwaswrong.

So Greta had turned on holiday music and made herself a hearty breakfast consisting of bacon and eggs, washed down with a second cup of coffee to which she’d added peppermint syrup and a dollop of whipped cream. She’d turned on the gas fireplace and called Jean to wish her a Merry Christmas.

Then she’d cleaned up the kitchen, scrolled through social media, and finally mustered up the nerve to end the nervous procrastination. She’d call Jonathan, invite him over, and ask him to talk.

She’d apologize for refusing to listen to his side of the story last night and forgive him for not telling her about Berg. Everything would work itself out, and they could pick up where they’d left off before this happened last night.

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