Page 65 of Sweet Silver Bells
Nina did not even look up. Her hands moved so fast that gumdrops and peppermint bark scattered onto the table. She pressed icing along every seam with the precision of a surgeon.
“She’s just as scary as your haunted forest, Hunter,” Sadie said, wagging her eyebrows.
Hunter managed a laugh. He could still feel the tight knot in his chest where Christmas used to sit warm and easy. Sarah had made this season feel like peace. Now it was noise, obligation, and small talk that did not fill the space she’d left behind.
“My gingerbread house will be eco-friendly,” Darius declared. He claimed the spot across from Nina and began stacking pieces without any clear plan. “It will reflect the harsh reality of deforestation.”
Hunter shook his head. “So, just a sad pile of crumbs, then?”
Darius pointed at him with a piece of peppermint stick. “It is called minimalism. Also, it is called helping my best friend escape this nonsense as quickly as possible.”
Hunter appreciated him for that. Darius always had a quiet way of protecting everyone without smothering them.
He sank into a slate-gray folding chair and made sure he could see the tent entrance clearly. He tried to tune out Nina barking orders at Tom, who looked like he regretted every life choice that had brought him to this table. Sadie hummed while smearing frosting across a roof that sagged dangerously. Darius poked at his crumbling pile as if it might fix itself if he stared hard enough.
He should have been doing this with Sarah. They would have laughed at their crooked walls and eaten half the candy before finishing the roof. He wondered if she would hate how he clung to this ghost version of her every Christmas.
“Use more icing, Darius. More is better,” Nina shouted, sounding like a drill sergeant covered in sugar.
“My roof is sliding off,” Sadie said. She pressed her lips together and looked at her disaster.
Nina slapped her hands on the table. “You did not brace the walls properly. That is basic gingerbread physics.”
Hunter raised an eyebrow at her. “Why do you look personally insulted by poor construction?”
Darius sighed. “This is why the world needs sustainable architecture. Less heartbreak, fewer broken roofs.”
Sadie threw up her hands. “Can I just drown my walls in frosting without getting a lecture from the holiday tyrant?”
Nina ignored her. Minutes later, her own gingerbread masterpiece buckled and collapsed in a sticky heap. Her cheeks flushed as red as her Santa hat. Hunter half-expected her to flip the entire table, and part of him wished she would.
“Someone get that angry little elf a drink,” Sadie muttered. She ducked when Nina swatted at her arm. “It is not that serious, I promise.”
Hunter stood as the group filed out of the tent, the cold air biting at the heat building under his collar. Snow drifted down, settling in his hair and lashes until he blinked it away. This timeof year used to feel like hope. Now, it just reminded him how much he had lost.
“Time for another beer,” Darius said, leading the charge back into the fairgrounds. Sadie muttered something about donuts and hurried after him.
Hunter stopped short when he saw Olivia. She walked toward him with Celia and Elaine on either side, all three of them dark silhouettes against the glitter of lights and fresh snow. Elaine hooked her arm through Olivia’s and called out over the chatter.
“Your girlfriend is a prize, Hunter. Honestly, she could do so much better, so worship the ground she walks on.”
Relief cracked through his chest like a breath of warm air. He looked into Olivia’s dark eyes, the only thing that made him feel steady in all this chaos.
“Do not worry,” Hunter said. He stepped forward and let Olivia catch his hand. “I already do.”
18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
“We stood behind a group of people for a long time. Most of them were very young, crying because there was no whipped cream on the hot chocolate,” Olivia told Hunter with her hand back in his. As Nina and Tom bickered about the gingerbread house debacle, their group marched through the holiday market.
Where was the trick, the hidden agenda? There was too much potential for Hunter to feel happy, or dare he say even normal. Here he was, with his coworkers, some he even considered friends, and a girlfriend, dare he say, that he was holding onto tightly.
“There was a sickeningly happy song playing repeatedly while a giant machine adorned with horrifying statues of animals spun in a circle. When we got to the front of the line, we sat on those animal statues. Mine was a whimsical sheep that was absolutely deranged, its eyes dead and its smile too large.”
“I told you she was awesome,” Celia said, her black skirt swishing as she and Elaine skipped up ahead.
This is going well. You can relax.
