Page 48 of That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe
“I’m on the basketball team.” Cami bobs her head, and her Rudolph antlers slip. “He’s a great coach. Great teacher. He really listens to us, you know? So if I can help out …” Suddenly Cami’s cheeks pink up, and she scurries off toward the back of the shop.
I watch her go, arms hanging at my side, and I letout a little laugh. So, Three’s not only the best coach and teacher, but Cami might have a little crush on him.
While she’s in the back, I check out a display of individual Christmas cards, trying to be patient. After five minutes, I start to fidget, my restlessness kicking up a notch.
This was a silly idea.
Cami’s not going to find anything remotely summery lying around in the back this close to Christmas. Meanwhile, I’m stuck here and Three’s at home alone with no idea where I am. He could be dizzy. Or nauseated. Or sad after talking to Nella. And I don’t want him to spend even more time alone before it’s absolutely necessary.
Come on, Sara.Is leaving himabsolutely necessary?
He’s only stuck here because of you.
Youcouldjust stay in Abieville and skip Christmas this year.
A wave of hysteria bubbles up in my throat, and I bite my tongue to keep from laughing. I can only imagine what Bristol would say if she could hear the conversation happening in my head. Even worse, my mom and dad would be devastated if I missed the Hathaway Gala. Christmas Eve. My birthday.
Impossible.
Behind me the door to the shop jingles, and a family of five enters. The parents are holding hands, and each of the kids clutches a half-eaten candy apple. They all head straight to a beverage station along the wall offering self-service fountain drinks and coffee. They’re busy filling cups for themselves when Cami finally returns from the back of the store pushing a loaded cart.
“So.” She grins at me. “Will this work?”
In the cart are two Hawaiian shirts—one red, one green—three hot-pink lawn flamingoes, six tiki torches, a pile of multi-colored leis, and a set of four lanterns shaped like pineapples.
“It’s perfect,” I tell her.
And absolutely necessary.
Back at the house, I have to make two trips to transfer all theluau supplies inside, and I temporarily pile everything next to the Christmas tree. By now, the fire’s died down to a few glowing embers. Bags of ornaments and decorations crowd the floor. On the coffee table are a pair of scissors and strips of green and red construction paper.
Three must have cut those out while I was gone to use for our advent chains. His phone is beside the bowl of abandoned popcorn. But the man himself is nowhere in sight.
“Hello?” My pulse picks up. Maybe I shouldn’t have left him alone so soon. He seemed pretty good all day, but we also did a lot. Maybe too much. “I’m home!” I call out louder this time.
“I’m in here!”
I cross the dining room into the kitchen, and find Three hovering over the stove, holding a spatula. On the counter is a loaf of bread, a brick of cheddar, and the butter dish.
“Grilled cheese?” I come closer, drawn by the dreamy scent of melted butter.
Three keeps his gaze on the bread sizzling in the pan. “I made one for you too.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, even as my stomach rumbles. “But it smells amazing.”
“Not as fancy as the dinner you were planning, but I got hungry, and I don’t know how to cook a turkey.”
My eyes widen. “Your appetite’s back?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “And I figured we wouldn’t have time for a big meal at this point anyway, so …” He tips his chin to point at the cheese.
“Sandwiches are perfect.”
In fact, some comfort food and a good night’s sleep is probably just what we both need. Then, if Three’s up to it tomorrow, we can attempt Abieville’s first-ever Hawaiian Christmas luau mashup after the evaluation.
The results won’t be magazine-worthy—not like the Hathaway Gala—but I’ll be giving Three a little bit of everything he’s missing out on because of me. Then, if all goeswell, and the doctor clears him to go home on Tuesday, I can head back to the city by Christmas Eve, just like I’d always planned.
“I haven’t had grilled cheese in years,” I say, as my heart squeezes at the thought of leaving him alone.
