Page 79 of That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe
Home.
I bob my head. “I’ll just get to work then.” As I back away, a painful buzz thrums in my chest. Of course Sara is leaving Christmas Eve. It’s not only her birthday, it’s also the night of the Hathaway Gala. This isn’t a surprise. It’s something I support.What hurts is the reminder that she’ll never seethisplace as her home.
Sara’s got a new job waiting for her in the city. Acareer.Oneshe’s worked for her entire life. I’m probably crazy to think there might be room for me on that path. So I head to the storage room to work out my emotions with a hammer and wrench.
All the odd jobs I’ve done over the years have taught me more practical skills than I could’ve learned in a classroom. Carpentry. Electrical. Roof repairs. Even plumbing. If only this could impress Sara’s parents. But the Hathaways hire people like me, they don’t marry them. They may never think I’m worthy of their daughter. And I might not think they’re wrong.
Still, I won’t make the same mistake I did a decade ago. The choice has to be hers this time, no matter the fallout. And she can only make the right decision if she has all the facts.
Yeah. Good luck with that, Three.
By the time Sara calls me to dinner, I’ve gotten the door handle upgraded and repaired the light fixture. I didn’t even electrocute myself, which—the way this week’s been going—would’ve been par for the course.
“I just need to clean up first,” I call back. After testing the handle and light one last time, I quickly wash up and change into a fresh long-sleeved shirt, gray pants, and a black jacket. I’m just giving myself a pep talk, preparing to spill my guts to Sara, when I find her in the dining room.
Whoa. I’m so not worthy.
Her hair is loose, falling in glossy waves along her shoulders, and she’s wearing a green dress. But not just an average green. Green like the Emerald City onThe Wizard of Oz. The top half is fitted to her while the bottom flares out, dotted with something delicate and white, like tiny snowflakes.
“You look incredible,” I blurt.
She dips into a small curtsy, peering at me from under a fringe of lashes. “You don’t look so bad yourself. Butthe turkey’s the real star of the show tonight.” Her gaze flits to the table, and only then do I notice the presentation for dinner.
A rich red cloth covers the wood, with a runner down the middle. Bookending the turkey and side dishes are two complete place settings: china plates, crystal stemware, silver flatware, cloth napkins. In the center of the table, four taper candles cast a warm glow across the room
“Wow.” I blow out a long breath. “You did all this in two hours?”
“It took a little longer, actually.” She wrinkles her nose. “You probably just lost track of time. Speaking of which, how are the repairs going?”
“Not as impressive as all this.” I nod at the table. “But the door handle works. The light works. Anyone who ends up in that storage room can see and also get out.”
The edges of Sara’s mouth tug up. “Mission accomplished, then.”
“You should send a pic of this spread to Ryan Detweiler. Might seal the deal with Platinum Stays.”
“I didn’t do this for Ryan. Or for Platinum Stays.” Sara smooths her hands down the front of her dress. “This is your Christmas celebration. A real one. Not a silly luau.”
“I didn’t think the luau was a silly idea. But this looks amazing.”
She shifts her weight. Glances at the food. “Should we sit?”
I walk over to one side of the table, and pull out her chair. “After you.”
“Thanks.” She takes a seat, spreads the napkin in her lap, and inclines her head toward the turkey. A large knife glimmers beside the platter. “Unfortunately, I’ve never carved anything myself before, so …”
“My favorite job.” I smile at her. “I’d be happy to do the honors.”
I carve the turkey while Sara spoons servings of potatoes and stuffing onto our plates.The scene is so domestic, my chest goes tight with longing. If this is what a future with Sara would feel like, I’d want nothing more.
“What was I thinking suggesting spaghetti?” I say. “That was a terrible idea.”
Sara lets out a small laugh. “I’m glad I could convince you.”
“By the way, you cooked, so I’m washing the dishes tonight.” I say. “I’ve been told those are the rules.”
“I won’t argue with you. But let’s actually eat before we worry about dishes.”
We tuck into our meal, which is as delicious as it looks. Every few bites, I steal a glimpse at Sara. Every ten glimpses, I catch her looking at me.
