Page 47 of Holiday at Home
The garland wrapped around the banister glimmers faintly in the light from the Christmas tree below, ornaments winking like tiny eyes as I creep down the stairs. The scent of pine, cinnamon, and sugar lingers in the air—faint traces of last night, of Violet. The memory steadies and unravels me all at once.
If someone’s broken in, they’re standing inside her world, the home she built from ashes, and I’ll be damned if they hurt a single thing.
“I don’t think we need to whisper anymore. Pretty sure she left already,” a man’s voice says. It’s oddly familiar, but then again, I know most people in this small town. A muffled response follows, higher pitched, probably female. My heart pounds.
I suddenly realize I’m outnumbered and have nothing but… a shoe. In my sleep-numbed, adrenaline-fueled brilliance, I armed my half-dressed self with a shoe.
Great. Simon Holiday, defender of the innocent, armed with a loafer.
With a wry shake of my head, I heft it like a weapon.
I’m the only defense between Violet and disaster, so, hugging the wall, I slink down the hallway toward the living room. When the voices are at their loudest, I leap into the room, shouting, shoe raised over my head, ready to bring it down on the first intruder I see.
“Hey! Stop right there!”
A little boy yelps and falls straight onto his butt in front of the glittering Christmas tree. A woman shrieks, throwing her hands in the air, while a man grabs a couch pillow and rushes me like he’s ready for combat.
“Robbie?” I blurt, lowering my shoe.
“Simon?” He stops midstride, pillow in hand while Nora crouches to soothe her son.
“What are you doing here?” three adult voices demand in unison.
Robbie recovers first, smirking. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. Dress pants, bare feet, and a righteous case of bedhead? There are little ears here that don’t need to hear that story.”
“I’m not that little,” Nash mutters, detangling himself from his mother and standing as tall as he can.
“Is this something I need to worry about?” Nora asks, eyes sharp. “You, being here, looking like that?”
I hold out my hands, unsure how to answer that question. Part of me wants to unload everything, why I came home in the first place, the way spending time with Violet has reawakened my feelings for her with a vengeance, the strange certainty settling in my mind that I won’t be returning to New York and the insane number of questions that follows on the heels of that thought.
But it’s too early, both figuratively and literally. I’ve only been awake for five minutes and have no idea how or if I intend to bring up my feelings to Violet, let alone bring them up to her sister, a SEAL, and a six-year-old first.
“I have nothing but the best of intentions,” I finally say, lowering the shoe to the ground.
Robbie fluffs the couch pillow back into place. “Same could’ve been said for the Simon who broke Violet’s heart.”
The words land sharper than he means them too. I deserve that one.
“Fair point.” I flare my hands and dip my head, too tired and full of adrenaline to argue. “Violet didn’t say anything about you guys showing up this morning.”
“We wanted to surprise her,” Nora explains, absently ruffling Nash’s hair. “We weren’t supposed to arrive for a few more days but hated the thought of her being alone.”
“Looks like we didn’t have anything to worry about on the alone front, though,” Robbie adds, eyebrows waggling. “Simon’s got everything taken care of.”
“Enough!” Nora exclaims on a laugh, dropping her hands to cover Nash’s ears. He wiggles out of her grasp, smoothing his ruffled hair back into place.
We drift into the kitchen, the faint hum of the refrigerator filling the silence. A folded note leans against the ancient coffee pot, Violet’s handwriting looping across the page in that mix of elegance and chaos that is soher.
Simon,
Last night was… everything. Thank you for being exactly what I didn’t know I needed. I don’t remember the last time I laughed that hard or felt that light. You’ve always had a way of making the world feel less heavy, like somehow I’m stronger just by standing next to you.
Stay as long as you like. My house feels better with you in it.
And I can’t wait to see you again tonight.
—Violet
