Page 139 of The Holiday Hate-Off
I tell him as much when he stops in at the Sip before making the drive to New York City. It’s eight hours, but he wants to have his car so he can bring some boxes back from his apartment. Or so he says.
Maybe he won’t want to do that if they offer him the job.
Maybe he won’t want to come back at all.
Eileen, who’s covering the counter, gives me an encouraging smile and a thumbs-up.
I give her one back.
I’ll need to return to work before too long. It’s Whoopie Pie Appreciation Day today, and there’s a line out the door atMaking Whoopie. Several people have come from there to here to grab a caffeinated drink, so we’re busy too. Everyone’s abuzz about Audrey’s culinary genius.
It’s been a successful day for her, although she didn’t look all that happy when I popped in earlier. I’m not sure why, but I don’t have the bandwidth to worry about it right now. Frankly, I’m not all that happy myself, given what’s going on with Enzo.
“It’s not a bad omen,” Enzo insists, refusing to acknowledge the hail as anything but bad weather. “Now, if someone nabbed me in the balls again on that thing…” He nods to the dartboard I made of his photo, which is still hanging on the café wall. “That would be a bad omen. Try not to worry, all right? I’ll call you when I get there, and again after the interview tomorrow.”
“I’ll be waiting,” I say. “But I already know it’s going to go great.”
“Look on the bright side,” he says with a huge grin. “Maybe I’ll bomb it. Then we can get drunk at Kippis with my brothers and Charlie and Lars and talk about what assholes they all are.”
“Oh, like you’d actually bomb it,” I say, letting a trace of sourness leak into my tone. “You’re going to charm the pants off them.”
He smooths a hand over my hair. “I’d rather charm the pants off you. I’ll see you on Thursday.”
I kiss him once, then again, then again.
“I don’t want you to leave,” I admit. “I’m worried you won’t come back.”
“I’ll come back,” he insists. “You can’t get rid of me so easily.”
He kisses me again before he gets up and leaves, the door no longer chiming with that awful “Jingle Bells” song thanks to him.
I watch him through the window, so I see when he looks back. When he winks.
It makes my heart hurt.
The next thing I know, a pair of arms descends upon me from behind. I nearly jump out of my skin before I realize it’s Eileen, and I lean my head back into her cloud of familiar light perfume.
“It’s going to be okay, sweet girl,” she says softly. “You’ll see. There’s magic at Christmastime in Hideaway Harbor.”
But he’s leaving Hideaway…
“Bad time to be traveling,” Wayne says from two tables away. “Lots of snow at this time of year. There could be holdups on the road.”
Eileen stiffens. “If we wanted your opinion, Wayne, we would have asked.”
The door opens, capturing my attention and Eileen’s. I’m surprised to see Nonna Francesca. The breach has officially been mended, but this is her first social visit to the café.
She shocks me all the more when she walks over and puts a hand on my shoulder. “We wait together,” she says staunchly. “Now, make me one of those cappuccinos I taught you to make.”
Tears fill my eyes, but I get up to make the drink, feeling a warmth in my chest even though the fear hasn’t eased. Because I really do feel like a part of this place. Enzo is too, but I’m worried he hasn’t realized it yet.
I tell Charlie as much later, at her house, and she gives me a long hug before saying, “This sounds ridiculous, but why don’t you tell him what you’re feeling in a letter? You don’t need to send it. You can give it to him when he comes home.”
“You’re brilliant,” I say.
“You won’t think so after you see the German shepherd. It looks like that ice sculpture of Nico.”
I smile, because the ice sculpture has melted slightly, making him look even more misshapen. Nico’s been complaining about it to anyone who will listen.
