Page 94 of A Not So Merry Rescue
“You should drive down Main Street.” The words tumble out of my mouth, no regard for what I’m saying. Beckett disguises his gasp as a cough.
“Will it be a repeat of last time?” A hint of humor hides in his words.
“No.”
My idea is a gamble. Much as I want to see the lights, a residual fear resides inside. I’m not sure I’ll be able to conceal itfrom Beckett if it’s overwhelming. But I want to try, and who better than him?
“You’re sure?”
“Yes,” I confirm with conviction. I can do this. Perhaps white-knuckling it the whole way, squeezing my eyes if it gets too overwhelming, but I can do this.
Content with my decision, he drives down a street we’ve yet to explore, somehow circling back to Main Street. He slips his hand in mine, laying both on his thigh. “It’s easy enough to turn around. We don’t have to do the entire street. You’ll let me know if it’s too much?”
“How are you single?” The question arises, and I can’t keep it inside. But seriously. Here’s this man who has been nothing but kind to me, taking care of me from the moment we met, going above and beyond the role of a friend, let alone a stranger.
He blows out a breath, and I wonder if he’s going to respond to my—mostly—rhetorical question.
“I have high standards. I like things certain ways. I haven’t found anyone compatible.” Honesty pours from him, but there’s a tinge of sadness, too. He’s going to make the best husband one day. For the right woman, she’s going to be his world.
Too bad it’s not you,my brain reminds.
After Elias died, I would have said I don’t deserve a guy like Beckett. Because I had Elias, so why should I have two loves? However, spending the last several days with him, I wish that weren’t true. I wish I was deserving of Beckett Nicholas. Even if it won’t ever work, between the distance and every other complication, I’d like the chance to see how good it could be.
“Gotcha.” There’s so much I want to say, but I keep it simple, not wanting to get into more tonight. Not when we only have a limited time.
He’ll find his woman. He’s too great of a catch not to.
We reach the beginning of Main Street, and Beckett idles at the stop sign. “Last chance to back out.”
“Don’t tempt me,” I joke. Inside, nerves threaten, but I tampthem down. “I can do this.” The words are whispered with little conviction behind them, but I’m here. I’m not going to let Beckett or myself down. I scrunch my eyes shut, count to five, and let go of the breath I’m holding. “Do it.” He’s still holding my hand, his fingers gripping tighter.
“I’m proud of you. I’m here.”
No doubt in my mind, if I backed out, he wouldn’t give me a hard time. He’d continue on the way to the cabin, dropping the subject and letting me have the space and time I needed to conquer the fear.
Even in my mind, it’s stupid to consider this a “fear.” Because there are so many more scary things in the world than Christmas lights. I suppose that’s why my therapist calls it an irrational fear. It’s not the lights I’m scared of, but what they represent.
The loss, the joy, the what should have been.
If I don’t do this now, I never will. I’ll never have the nonjudgemental support of anyone like Beckett at another time.
“Okay.” I nod, signaling I’m ready.
He turns right, the lights blinding ahead. At a crawl, he drives down the street, allowing me to take in the multi-colored lights on the different buildings. Every building is decked out in a plethora of colored lights, some blinking, others static. They’re bright because they have to be. To showcase the beauty of the colors, the luminescence of the hues.
As Beckett drives along the road, my eyes scan both sides of the street, absorbing it all. Awe doesn’t do it justice. It’s beautiful, the lights strung in a way to highlight the patterns and also the building itself. I can’t believe I would have missed this had I continued not to confront my demons.
“It’s stunning, breathtaking,” I marvel, my sight not able to concentrate on one area for too long. I want to soak it all up, catalog every bulb, every design, to commit it to memory.
“Not so blinding anymore?” He chuckles, repeating my words from last week.
“Oh, it’s still blinding, but in the best way. Not sure how I’llbe able to see anything once we leave here.” The car accelerates, but I demand, “Go slower.” I glance in the side mirror, making sure we aren’t holding anyone up.
I can’t decide which building is my favorite. Beckett’s a good sport and turns around at the end of the strip and travels back the other way, my oohs and aahs spurring him on.
“When do they shut them down for the night?”
“Midnight.”
