Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“Oh, this is cute.” Isla holds up a small ceramic package that’s been hand-painted. “Do you think Mom would like this?”
“Yes. I can see that being added to her Christmas décor collection.”
“Me too. I’m getting it.” She pulls money out of her wallet and hands it over to the lady running the booth.
We move on to the next booth. It’s full of handmade wreaths. They’re all beautiful. One stands out. It’s made with different red and green ribbons with lights entwined. “Do you think this is manly?” I ask Isla.
“Um, why are you asking that?”
“I think I’m going to buy this for Oliver’s house.”
She grins and points her index finger at me. “I like the way you think, Blake. It’s perfect.”
“You think so?”
“I do. It’s festive without being over the top like this one.” She points to an adorable wreath with little Santas and elves all over it. “That would be too much for someone who isn’t fond of the holiday.”
“Agreed.” I look up at the teenage boy running the booth. I recognize him as one of my little brother’s friends. “Hi, Zac, I’ll take that one, please.” I point to the wreath I want.
“Sure thing, Blakely.” He takes my money, pulls the wreath down, and puts it in a large brown paper bag.
“Thank you.” I smile at him, and we move on to the next booth. Isla and I both make a few more purchases before taking everything back to her car, so we don’t have to pack it around the rest of the day and night.
We run into my parents and younger siblings when we reach the center of town. “Hey,” I greet them.
“We were looking for you,” Dad says, pulling me into a hug.
“What’s up?”
“Mom wants a picture,” Beckham grumbles.
“Oh, hush.” Mom swats his arm. “Yes, I want a picture of all my children with Santa this year.”
My mouth falls open. “Mom, we’re all way too old for that.” I lean in close. “Santa isn’t real,” I whisper.
She chuckles. “I know, but I’m feeling nostalgic. Come on. Just one picture.”
“It won’t hurt to give her this one request,” Dad says, smiling at Mom.
He looks at her as if she is his entire world. That’s the kind of love I want. That’s the kind of love I grew up watching, and I won’t accept anything less than that. I know it’s out there. I’ve witnessed it with every couple in my family. Oliver comes to mind, and my heart aches for him. For all that he could be missing. Not with me, but with life, because he’s letting someone else’s past decisions dictate his life.
“I’m in,” I tell Mom.
“Can we do it now?” Beckham asks. “I told the guys I’d do the snowman-decorating contest with them.”
“I can do it now.” I glance over at Isla, and she shrugs.
“You and I should get one, just the two of us too,” she suggests.
“Perfect.” Mom claps her hands, and as a group, we head down the block to take our picture with Santa.
As we approach and stand in line, I’m shocked at who I see. Standing right in front of us is Oliver with a man and his wife and two kids. He’s here. He actually came. Giddiness washes over me.
“Isn’t that Dr. Thompson?” Mom asks.
At the sound of his name, Oliver turns, and when he sees me, his face lights up. I’m not just imagining it because Isla leans in close and says, “Holy hell, Blake.”
“Blakely,” he says, his voice velvety smooth.
“Hi.” I wave, offering him a smile. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Me either,” the man says.
“We were shocked when he invited us,” the woman says.
My eyes go back to Oliver, and he shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You mentioned it.”
“Hi,” a small voice says. I look down at a little boy tugging on my coat. “I’m Abe.”
I crouch down so that I’m close to his eye level. “Hi, my name is Blakely.” I hold my hand out for him.
“Do you know Uncle Oliver?”
“I sure do. We work together.”
“He’s not really my uncle, but he’s my dad’s best friend, and Dad says that’s uncle status.”
All the adults laugh at his explanation. “I agree with you.” I wink at him.
“I’m Marisa, and this is my husband, Brad, and this little one is Carrie.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“What are we, big sis, chopped liver?” Beckham asks.
“Sorry.” I laugh. “This is my family. My mom, Kennedy, my dad, Declan, my little brother, Beckham, my little sister, Brooklyn, and my best friend, Isla,” I explain.
“Are you going to sit on Santa’s lap?” Abe asks me.
“I am. Are you?”
“Yep. My baby sister might be scared, but I’m going to help her.”
“That’s what big brothers are for. You know, maybe Uncle Oliver will get a picture with Santa too.”
“Yes!” Abe jumps, pumping his fist in the air. “Will you, Uncle Oliver?”