Page 116 of A Very Merry Mistake

I laugh.

Claire

No, that’s not how this works. I didn’t want to be pushy, so I walked away and gave him space. I’ve decided there’s no rush on forever. Honestly, I don’t expect him to immediately forgive me after what happened. We need time.

My phone rings as she calls me.

“I couldn’t text anymore. My hands are full. I grabbed some Chinese food and a drink, so I’m chatting with you through my earbuds, because if I drop my food, I might throw a fit. I’m hangry.”

I snicker. “Whatever works for you. It’s fine. What did you order?”

“Lo Mein. Eggrolls. Wontons. I feel like I got the whole menu. Anyway, I didn’t call to chat about me and my dinner. What did he say? Did he seem happy to see you?”

“I don’t remember everything, honestly. It was a whirlwind, and I couldn’t believe I was sitting beside him. It didn’t feel real.” I keep my voice low, not wanting anyone to overhear. “He asked for the truth, so I told him and apologized. I don’t know if he was happy to see me. Maybe? Maybe not. I guess time will tell.” A few people grab their ciders, and the line moves some more. “Looks like he hasn’t shaved since I left. And that sparkle in his eyes wasn’t quite there. That’s my fault, too. I know it is.”

“You made it right, sis. That’s all you can do. You should sleep well knowing that you made a difference. And stop blaming yourself so much. You put that man above a career that you’ve worked so hard for over the past decade. I’m sure he recognizes that, and if he doesn’t, eventually he will.”

“Standing up for what I believe in is really hard, but I’ll do it again. Eventually, our father will forgive me, and if he doesn’t, that’s his problem, not mine. Jake’s family won’t have to suffer now, and that’s all that matters.”

“It’s called having compassion, something a lot of people in our father’s social class don’t have,” Emma says. “It’s also something money can’t buy.”

“You’re right about that. Hold on one second.” I step up to the window and order a large apple cider. A minute later, I’m handed a gigantic cup with a thick cinnamon stick poking from the top. I wait to put the lid on top as the steam rises. It smells heavenly as I blow on it, but it’s too damn hot to drink right now.

“I just got back to my place, and I’m gonna eat,” Emma says.

“Great. I’ll text you when I get home tonight. I’ve got one more thing to do.”

“Awesome. I’m really proud of you. You deserve all the goodness in the world.”

“Thank you, means a lot.” I end the call and shove my phone into my back pocket.

As I walk further through the crowd, I put the lid on my cider and take a sip. My mouth explodes with sweet cinnamon and apples as I listen to carolers dressed in full Victorian-style costumes. Once they finish their song list, I notice the line to see Santa is much shorter. I’ve got something on my Christmas list that I haven’t asked for yet, so I step in line behind a mom and a little boy wearing an elf suit.

He looks adorable, and when his eyes meet mine, I give him a wink. Instead of returning the gesture, he sticks his tongue out. So I keep my attention pointed forward so I’m not tempted to do the same. He taps my leg and does it again. I cross my eyes at him, and he laughs.

The cider is so delicious I drink half of it while I wait, my gaze trailing over the festival. The people in the circus tent look like they’re having a good time. A large group is doing line dances to “Cotton-Eyed Joe.” That’s something I’ve never done, so I open the notepad application on my phone and search for the note named “Southern Bucket List.” Midway down is horseback riding and swimming in a pond. Then I see the one that says, “Take a picture with Santa,” toward the bottom. It was added recently, since I never had the opportunity as a child. Once I’ve finished my cider, I toss the cup in the trash. A teenager dressed as an elf asks me which photo package I’d like and then slides my card. A few minutes later, I’m led to an area that looks like Santa’s workshop.

When I’m closer, Jake’s dad notices me and immediately grins. He pats his lap, and I sit.

“Ho, ho, ho! Tell Santa what you want for Christmas,” he says.

I lean in and whisper in his ear. “Forgiveness.”

When he pulls away, he nods. “Consider it done,” he tells me.

“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you.”

One of the elves snaps her fingers at me. The flash on the camera is so bright I can barely see after the photo is taken, but they still escort me away. When I push open the exit gate, I’m handed my picture. These elves are efficient as fuck.

As I walk away, I look down at the photo. A single tear runs down my cheek, knowing his parents don’t hate me. I came here to undo my wrongdoings, and I hope I can accomplish that.

When I pass the cheesecake booth, I stop and order one. No carbs can kiss my ass. I take a bite and realize what Hank was talking about. It’s sweet, but it’s delicious.

Since I parked so far away, it gives me plenty of time to think about my life and how angry my father is at me. Maybe one day he’ll understand why I did what I did. Maybe one day he’ll even forgive me. Until then, I’ll live my life for me.

In the end, my father was right. I don’t think I would’ve been happy running Manchester Holdings anyway. Maybe he understood that.

Carrying my half-eaten cheesecake on a stick, I make it to my truck. Cars are closely parked in front and behind me, and there isn’t a scenario where I don’t crash into one trying to leave. Instead of trying, since I know my limits, I grab my carry-on out of the backseat and head to my new home.

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