Page 108 of That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe
Our son took your words to heart and told us everything the minute we returned from picking Lark up from school. (She says hello, by the way. And that you’re still her favorite teacher. Brennan’s crossing his fingers he’ll be in your class too in a couple of years.)
Coach Fuller, you are a true asset to Abieville High, both in the classroom and on the basketball court. All the Ackermans are grateful to you and for you. We hope your Christmas is warm and wonderful and that your new year is full of blessings.
Sincerely,
Jeffrey and Melissa Ackerman
I’m reasonably sure Jeff and Mel won’t be expecting a response from me on Christmas Eve, so I decide to skip a reply for now. I’m on winter break, after all, and technically off the clock. Still, I read through their message two more times, swallowing the lump in my throat.
There will be other students to teach, coach, and care about wherever I land. I’m sure of it. But leaving this town means saying goodbye to families like Sully Ackerman’s.
It means I’ll never have Brennan in my classroom, which is too bad. Lark and Sully are pretty great.Speaking of which.
From: [email protected]
To: Bradford Fuller
She said yes.
That’s it. But those few words tell me everything I need to know. I make a mental note to talk to Sully about maybe getting a more professional email address before college. I’m also tempted to ask if his promposal to Cami ended up involving grilled cheese.
But that can come later.
I send him my own three-word reply, then I sit back to watch Kevin talk to that old man in the church.
Good for you.
Man, I love that kid. And I love my school. I love this entire town. But I love Sara Hathaway more.
Now I just have to tell her.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Sara
I totally missed the gala.
And I’m not even kidding. Thanks to my mother insisting I stick around until after Ryan Detweiler completed all the approval paperwork, I was already cutting my arrival close. Then I had to drop Three off at his place. Then a multi-car pileup—precipitated by some kind of major negligence on one of the driver’s parts—shut down all lanes just outside the Lincoln Tunnel.
Oops.
The whole area was clogged with emergency responders, law enforcement, and investigators, not to mention everyone and their brother trying to get into the city for Christmas. Including me.
Fortunately, my parents didn’t get too upset when I called them to explain what was holding me up.
I figured they’d understand. My mom and dad aren’t monsters. They’re Hathaways. And they were mostly just gratefulI wasn’t a part of the accident—which everyone at the gala was talking about.
When I admitted I’d be running a little late, my parents took the news in stride. Unfortunately,a little lateturned into me being stuck for three hours in a virtual parking lot. Now I’m rushing into the Winston Club, smoothing down my dress, and fluffing my hair for … absolutely nobody.
The only people still here—besides my mom and dad—are the caterers packing up the food, and a cleanup crew tackling all the wine spills and shoe scuffs.
My father spots me first, striding over to offer a hug. He’s dashing and handsome in a pair of black tuxedo pants and his signature white dinner jacket.
“You okay, sweetheart?”
“I’m safe,” I say, although my insides are in knots. I was already nervous about talking to my parents about Three. Then missing the gala threw a new wrench into the toolbox of my stomach.
