Page 61 of The Runaway Bride of Blitzen Bay (Blitzen Bay)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

NASH

December 23

Blitzen Bay, California

“You decided not to leave, huh?”

Elle turns to me and smiles. “Yeah, I’m not sure why I would leave the North Pole right before Christmas, especially when I have a date with Santa Claus coming up.”

“I’d almost forgotten about that. You definitely can’t stand up Santa.”

“Thank you for finally admitting who he really is,” she says, laughing.

“Well, we don’t like to reveal his true identity to strangers until we know they’re true believers.”

“I completely understand.”

“Do you want company?” I say, walking over to her.

“If you even want to be seen with me after all that.”

“It wasn’t that bad and you gave Izzy something to talk about for months.”

I sit down next to her and put my arm around her. She jumps a little bit and leans away from me. I push my arm quickly onto the back of the bench—not touching her. Something has changed. I’m guessing Kit gave her the same warning she gave me.

“Kit told me this afternoon you might go back to L.A. with her tonight,” I say, looking away from her.

“She wanted me to. I probably should have.”

“I thought you said you wanted to hang out here a little bit and unwind.”

“I do, but she knows me better than anyone.”

“No, she doesn’t,” I say as I lean my head back against the wall. “You know you better than anyone.”

She looks at me and frowns. “She always knows what’s best for me.”

“There’s no doubt she wants what’s best for you, but you’re the only one who knows what that is. You can listen to everyone’s advice—hers, mine, your parents—but you’re the only one who should be deciding what’s best for you.”

“I don’t think I can do that right now. My mind’s too muddled. I need someone to tell me what to do.”

“No, you don’t. And you don’t have to decide what to do right now. Just sit with it. Give it time to come to you. If you rush it, you’re going to make the wrong decision. Just breathe and give yourself a break. And definitely stay away from your mom for a while.”

She covers her face with her hands and groans. “Why is my mom so crazy?”

“Everyone has a little crazy in their family,” I say, laughing. “Nothing wrong with it.”

“You’ve only told me a little about your mom, but she sounds lovely, not crazy.”

“Maybe it skips a generation. My mom’s cool, but my grandma was a little, uh, unusual.”

“Prove it.” I see a little life coming back to her eyes. “I don’t think you have any ‘unusual’ in your family.”

“Okay,” I say, sitting up, “you asked for it. Let me see. Umm. So my grandparents lived on a little farm in the middle of Texas. When they retired, they got a bunch of chickens to keep them entertained. My grandma made them outfits.”

“Wait. What do you mean outfits?” She starts to smile.

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