Page 45 of A Very Snowed In New Year
I felt like he reallysawme being a frozen weirdo in the middle of an airport—but he wasn’t judging me for being a frozen weirdo. Like, he gets it. He gets me.
I don’t think any guy has ever gotten me before.
Besides Declan, but he’s not a guy—he’s a man, and now he’s my uncle.
And therewassomething electric between me and Holden. That couldn’t have just been my imagination. The way he tookoff his sunglasses in slow motion and looked right at me. Like he knew me somehow. And he lookedsogood. And it made me feel good, even when I was feeling bad about not being able to talk to him.
And who knows, maybe it didn’t read as me being frozen, maybe it just looked like I was playing it cool.
However it looked, I’ve felt all tingly ever since, and it’s been nine hours since Holden gazed into my soul.
And okay, I had half a glass of the white wine that was left in the fridge as soon as I got home. To celebrate. Cheers to me and the Universe and the Wishing Wall. Half of one wish came true. Or a third? I guess I didn’t meet him, but we were face-to-face.
I finish unpacking my suitcase.
I’m realizing that now would be a good time to make a diary entry again, when my phone dings with a Google Chat notification. I am only a little disappointed that it’s not a Backroom text from Holden, but I’m sure he’s busy.
JOURNAL GUY:Hi. I was thinking we should meet. Each other. In person.
Oh gosh.
That’s so sweet.
JOURNAL GUY:What are you doing tomorrow?
Wow. So forward. Why am I not more excited by this?
“Heyyyyy…” Tracy knocks on the open door to my bedroom, pouting at me.
“Hi! I didn’t realize you were here!” I give her a big hug.
“Hey, buddy.” She strokes my back and holds me longer than necessary. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I pull away and study her oddly concerned face. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I just talked to Lainey and she said we need to get you drunk.”
“Really?”
“Oh, has Shay not called you yet?” She grimaces. “I’ll open a bottle of red.” She strokes my arm right before walking out.
I do not feel good about this.
My phone rings. It’s Shay. It’s Shay calling me from Sedona, and she didn’t even passive-aggressively text me to see if I’m available to talk first, which means it’s urgent. Which means it’s about New Year’s Eve. Which means it’s about Holden. Which means I’m going to need that wine.
I let it ring three times before answering—probably not because I am being passive-aggressive and enjoy making her wait, more likely because I am trying to hang on to one last moment of this part of my life where I don’t have to think about Holden Archer boning Shay Nicholls in a cabin because I made him like her.
“Hello?”
“Oh my God, I thought you’d never answer. Pay attention because this is important: Holden agreed to cabin with me tomorrow.”
“Wow. I didn’t realize it was a verb.”
“We’re going to cabin on New Year’s Eve, so whatever you said in Backroom—good work.”
I am racking my brain trying to remember anything I’ve said in Backroom between Christmas and today that could have dazzled Holden enough to agree to “cabin” with her, but maybe it was the sum of all the text parts.
“I need you to go to Big Bear Lake, to the cabin in the morning to get things ready. I’ll pay you an extra week’s salary as well as gas money. You can drive, right?”
