Page 38 of Secret Santa

“Priscilla.” Her name felt like a sigh when I said it. “I’ve been so worried. I can’t believe it. What are the odds that we’d end up in the same place for Christmas?”

I wanted to wax poetic about fate and Christmas miracles, and angels and bells and anything that would get her to believe that we were meant to be.

“I’ve missed you.” I settled on. “Are you okay? Are you cold? Would you like my jacket?” I asked, seeing her shiver.

“How about you come inside instead?” She pointed toward the door.

“I’m so sorry, Priscilla.” The words fell from my lips before I crossed the threshold. “I shouldn’t have let Beckett release that news story without even talking to you about it. I honestly got so swept up in the relief of USAS finding no evidence of doping, that I forgot what he told me about the kids and working your diner. I should have cleared it with you, and I didn’t. And I’m so sorry you felt blindsided by it.”

She took a seat on the stairs just behind her. She tucked her chin between her two hands and just stared at me. I couldn’t tell if it was disbelief that filled her storm cloud eyes or something more akin to incredulity. My mouth didn’t want to find out though. It kept unearthing every feeling and regret I’d felt over the last two weeks.

“I wanted you to know how much the town admires you. I don’t know if you saw the videos I posted, I hope you did. At least, Tomás thinks you did, but I went around and asked anyone who would agree so that you could see yourself like I do. So you would know without a doubt that the people of Bourbon City love you Priscilla. Almost as much I do.”

ChapterTwenty-Eight

I didn’t know how Presley was connected to my brother’s neighbors. To be honest I’m not even sure he knew. The second he saw me, after the shock of seeing me wore off, he launched into a monologue of apologies and regrets. How odd I’d been about to text him back and wish him a Merry Christmas as well when I’d heard the music play. At first, I’d assumed that someone was just playing music on their porch because it was Christmas Eve after all and lots of people in the neighborhood were entertaining. But then I heard my name. And it clicked. It was an Elvis Presley song. And not only that, but it was also the one he and I danced to in the kitchen of my diner.

“The people of Bourbon City love you almost as much as I do, Priscilla.”

The world stopped rotating at that moment. Maybe he’d been so caught up in the moment that he didn’t realize he said it. I paused, waiting for him to take it back. To sheepishly run his hand behind his head like he did when he got embarrassed and tell me he meant it in a “I love ice cream,” kind of way.

“I meant what I said, Priscilla. I love you. I’m in love with you. I can’t think of enough things to say to Fitzy to thank her for bringing us together. Because had she not, we both would have had our heads so far down, so laser focused on the next work-related-task in front of us that we would have never looked up. And look at what a beautiful thing we would have missed.”

He stepped toward me like he was going to pull me into a hug.

“Please, wait. I need to say something.”

“Priscilla.” He held me so tight against him, I could barely move my head to look at him.

“Presley it’s not you who should be apologizing,” I said, my voice muffled in his arm. “I’m the asshole. I should spend weeks trying to get you to forgive me. I’ve been telling myself a narrative in my head for so long, that even when evidence that screamed otherwise was directly in front of me, my own insecurities drown them out. It’s always been so much easier to believe the narrative I told myself.”

I could feel tears tickling down my cheeks. As I talked that knot that had been burning in my chest the last few weeks slowly unraveled. The more I talked, the harder Presley hugged me, and the safer I felt.

“You’re right.” I told him, “Fitzy’s intentions came from a place of love. Like you said, she simply saw someone who was like me, focused and driven, and thought here are two people who need me to get them to look up and step out of their own way.”

Presley pulled away from me and looked into my eyes with confusion crinkling his nose and eyes.

“Fitzy and I had a long talk about two hours ago. I apologized, she apologized, the world is a better place. Just know that I appreciate all that you have done for me. I know now that I can’t do everything alone, and you recognizing that my bullheadedness was a runaway train toward exhaustion is probably what saved me. You were trying to do right by me with the most accessible solution you had. And I appreciate it and love you for being a rock I wasn’t aware I needed. Thank you for knowing what I needed long before I humbled myself to admit it.”

“I love you, princess.” Presley pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, before tracing his lips down the slope of my nose and eventually on my lips.

Jesse came around the corner, a wide smile on his lips.

“Jesse King,” He extended his hand in introduction.

“Presley Murray.”

“I have to say, that George Bailey shit won me the hell over,” Jesse joked, clapping him on the back.

Presley looked at him, his eyes squinting with confusion.

“The movies of everyone in town talking about how much they love the diner,” I answered for Jesse.

Presley leaned his head back and laughed, a full belly laugh filled with joy.

“Holy crap. I didn’t even realize…I guess years of watching a movie will influence you even when you don’t even realize you’re doing it.” His cheeks were as red as candied apples. “I was honestly more concerned with you thinking no one in the town cared about you. That they barely paid any mind to you. When you told me that, honestly Priscilla, it gutted me. And I wanted desperately for you to see what I see every time I’m in your diner. A community full of people who support your business because they love and support you.”

I guess everyone had a little George Bailey in them if you looked for it.

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