Page 92 of Scrooged for the Holidays
It’s been my mantra, what’s kept me going, made me stay sane, and put money in my bank account. I’ve made something of myself, earned a living most people dream of having. I leaned into the “Ice Queen” persona because what else could I do? It was what people I loved already thought of me. Truthfully, I thought I enjoyed it. That everything was fine. That I was fine—betterthan fine.
I continue to walk down the street, snow crunching under my feet as I take in the sights and sounds. The Christmas music and decor doesn’t bother me as much as it did yesterday. That right there should have me running to my car and plowing myself out of this town no matter if I died or not. But I don’t. Ihaven’t really thought about leaving at all since last night. While it’s everything I thought I hated in a town, this place makes me feel at ease.
I wonder if Avery has ever been here. Given how she loves Christmas, I know she’d like it if she hasn’t. I take my phone out of my pocket and find what I expect. The screen isn’t black anymore, and it’s on, but there are still no bars, which means I can’t see if Avery has been trying to reach me like Present Her said she was. Only the time shows, tells me that it’s already approaching late afternoon. I’ve been walking for a long time.
My thoughts are lost in the past and now the present, wondering if Avery will even tell me she’s engaged…ifshe’s really engaged. Like how I can’t see if she’s been trying to reach me, it’s not like I can call her up and ask her to be sure, to find out if all the pieces I’ve put together mean that everything I’ve seen was real. That Nephilimdoexist and this town is magical.
A shiver works up my spine, and a voice in the back of my mind tells me that it was, that the signs I’ve run through repeatedly are showing me the truth. If it wasn’t real, why would I feel so…different? Why do I even care about Tim or whether Avery got engaged? Or feel at ease among all things Christmas? It’s weird.
I empty my lungs and put my phone in my pocket, looking back toward the inn. I need to talk to Remi and Kai. But how does one confront someone about this?
Hey, Remi, hey, Kai, are you the Nephilim who were in my dreams the last two nights?It sounds nuts. Not to mention, we had sex last night, and I ran out. I hadn’t planned to see any of them again, not even in my dreams. I planned to avoid them until I had to leave. I didn’t want to see Sam, either.
At the thought of him, the hair on my arms stands on end, and I feel as if his heated gaze is watching me. I turn around like he’ll be standing behind me but find more snow and random people in the distance throwing snowballs at each other, their high-pitched laughter filling the air. The scene reminds me ofPast Me with Avery, how much fun we had that day before I told her Santa didn’t exist.
Regret stirs in my gut, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. I was a child, and I made a mistake. I was hurt. I grab my phone again and click open a message to Avery but then huff and put it back. What would I even text—Sorry I ruined Christmas when we were kids? A nagging voice reminds me of all the times I’ve probably ruined it for her since then, too.
Am I really that terrible?Yes, I am.
I blink away the sting forming at the bridge of my nose. I don’t want to cry. I haven’t really cried since that Christmas three years ago, bottling up every tear since then.
I turn back to head toward the inn. I think I’ll lock myself in my room with a bottle of wine. I take a few steps and stop in my tracks when I see the sign for a store.
“The Last Page,” I read.
The sign on the front door is flipped toOpen. Unlike the rest of the town, the windows of this store aren’t plastered with Christmas decor. It reminds me of Sam’s room: dark and mysterious, no cheesy decor to be found.
There are displays of books in the window, sure, some holiday titles but mostly books you could read all year. Recognition and delight pulls at my cheeks when I see the one I have back in my room, the monster romance I haven’t had a chance to read yet.
I’m walking forward and opening the door, throwing my latte in a trashcan at the entrance before another thought pops into my head. The warmth of the space and the smell of books new and old fill my senses, the soft tinkle of a bell alerting whomever is here that a customer has arrived. The door closes behind me, and with it, the cold air and sounds of Christmas cut off.
When was the last time I stepped foot in a bookstore?
I look around as I mull over the question. The answer is years; I order all my books online. I inhale another breath, taking in the smell of pages. I sniff again when I catch what I think is abit of sage or something earthy lying underneath. Whatever it is comforts me, and I begin to browse.
The bookstore is dark yet cozy. The walls are painted a deep green that’s almost black, and all the bookshelves are dark-stained oak. Every book I pick up is slightly used until I reach a small table of new ones. My eye catches the book I saw in the window, and I pick it up:The Heir of the Sea. It’s an illustrated cover of the stormy ocean with black tentacles spanning the entire cover.
There are two deep-green velvet chairs in front of a fire that looks as if it’s been recently tended. I take a step toward them when I see another book on the table.Beings & Mythical Creatures: A Guide to the Unknown. On the cover are different kinds of creatures like a phoenix and bigfoot but also what looks to be an angel.
Interesting.
I pick it up with the monster romance and walk to a chair. I haven’t seen another person yet, and nobody came to greet me after I arrived. I remember Sam saying he owned The Last Page, but that doesn’t mean he’s here. Anyone could be working the store while he’s off…
I think of my first night at the inn, and I can’t help but smile. I suppose he could be doing anything right now, including the two men I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. The ache left behind by yesterday’s pounding still pulses deep in my core, but I force myself to ignore it.
I place the books down on the small coffee table and remove my coat and scarf, hanging that along with my purse on the back of the chair. Once I’m settled, I hover my hand over the monster romance but end up selecting the other book. The cover is made of a conditioned leather with gold stamping.
I settle back in the chair, the fire heating my cold and weary bones.
It strikes me as I open the first page that this is the first Christmas Eve I haven’t worked since college. Even if I wantedto, I couldn’t. There’s no service, the internet is still down. At least now I have something to do, and maybe I can find some answers to questions I’ve been asking in this book.
I sink further into the comfortable cushion, feeling warmer already.
The next page is a table of contents. “That’s handy,” I say. Angel is one of the first ones since they’re listed alphabetically. I scan further down to see if Nephilim is listed, but it’s not. That aggravates me, but I’m hoping the angel chapter says something. I’d just google it if I had internet access, but old-school research will have to work.
I turn to the listed page number and begin to read:
Angels are spiritual entities, sometimes appearing in human form, sometimes not, who exist between the mortal world and the spiritual world. These beings are often considered messengers, guardians, guides, or protectors for those on earth.
