Page 69 of Holiday at Home
“I’m scared.”
“I’ve got you. I promise. After three years without you, I know exactly how special you are. I will do everything in my power to show you.” He drops a wink toward Nash who grins, while I push an imaginary pin into the air.
“Do you trust me?” he asks quietly and I nod, tears welling in my eyes.
“Yes,” I whisper, but mean it with my whole heart.
Simon closes his eyes for one heartbeat like that one word landed in a place he’s been protecting for years. When he opensthem, those blue eyes are bright and wet. He pulls me in, careful and sure, while the tree lights splinter across his shoulder.
I set the contract on the coffee table and he takes my hand, our fingers threading, and squeezes once. “Merry Christmas, Violet.”
“Merry Christmas,” I whisper back, and I think of my parents leaning over the counter at Sterling’s, smiling at each other like life couldn’t get better because they shared everything together. I think of Simon and me in their place, laughing as the smell of cinnamon rolls mingles with coffee.
Paper rustles. The coffee machine hisses its approval from the kitchen. The TV fireplace pops and Nash drives his car over his father’s shoulders. Outside, the bay brightens, silver-blue under a winter sun. Inside, my heart settles into the shape of home—the one I thought I’d lost and somehow found again, tied up with a ribbon and written, messily, in his hand.
29
Simon
The day after Christmas, Violet and I walk hand in hand to the bakery. It’s downright cold today, the kind of cold that doesn’t quite bite but definitely nips. I pull up the collar on my coat while she shoves her gloved hands into her pockets. Our breath clouds the air between us in little bursts of white.
“I almost wish we’d driven,” she says, voice muffled in her scarf.
“I thought the morning walk was your favorite part of the day.”
“It is. When it’s not freezing. Is this how cold it gets in New York?”
“Baby, this is warm for a New York December.”
Violet shakes her head, her smile small and teasing. “I’ll never understand how you grew to enjoy that.”
“One of these days I’ll take you ice skating at Rockefeller Center. You’ll get it.”
Violet shivers and bumps my shoulder with hers. “I guess we’ll have to see, won’t we?”
“Oh, we’ll see. Just you wait.”
I throw an arm around her shoulders and press a kiss into her hair as we walk down the quiet sidewalk. Frost coats the grass, glittering beneath the golden glow of the streetlamps. Christmas lights are still strung between the palm trees, their reflections sparkling on damp pavement. Stillwater Bay feels half-asleep, the kind of sleepy that happens when joy lingers.
The walk is short but brisk. Violet unlocks the bakery door, flips on the lights, and steps inside. Warmth blooms as the ovens hum to life. She stands in the middle of the seating area, gaze sweeping over the walls, the shelves, the tables, the chairs.
“What do you see?” I ask softly.
“I see something my parents built and built well. I see happy memories in every nook and cranny. I smell Mom’s croissants—so buttery and flaky and mouthwatering. I see Dad greeting everyone who walked through those doors. I can hear his voice, Si. Just rich and warm.”
“What else do you see?”
Violet’s gaze drifts toward the counter. “I see the work I put in to make this place my own. The nights I spent going over menus, deciding what to keep and what to change. I hear the tap of my pen on the desk while I tried to make sense of the financials. I see myself behind the counter on opening day, terrified I was going to burn the place down—and then smiling at the end of it all because it turned out I was good at this.”
“What else?”
Her silver-gray eyes find mine. “I see my future. A dream I thought I’d lost. I see us turning that dream into reality. Your coffee, my baked goods. Our menu changing with the seasons. I see us laughing when we brainstorm—and probably fighting when things get hard. But I see us coming together, keeping the Sterling tradition alive for the next generation.”
“Anything else?”
“I see the boy I used to love,” she whispers, stepping closer. “He’s turned into a man I can respect.”
Violet slips into my arms, eyes shining. I kiss the side of her mouth.
