Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Serious doubts about the meaning of life seem like child’s play compared to the deep, abiding certainty that I’ve lost my one shot at true love.
I inhale slowly and deeply, willing the moisture trying to leap from my eyeballs back into my tear ducts. I can’t cry right now. I have to do the annual reading of The Night Before Christmas in ten minutes.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to do it?” Kayla murmurs from beside me. We’re laying out fresh cookies on the antique sideboard for the guests still filing into the library, finding spots on the couches or cross-legged on the floor.
I shake my head and force a smile. “No, it’s fine. I can do it. I know you aren’t a fan of public speaking.”
“I’m not,” she agrees, “but I’m not a fan of watching you pass out, either. You look like a hard wind would blow you over. Have you eaten anything today?”
I shove a Madeleine cookie in my mouth and grin at her as I chew.
She narrows her eyes as we step away from the sideboard, clearing the path to the treats and hot cocoa dispenser. “Not funny. You have to start taking better care of yourself. If you don’t, I’m going to go on a hunger strike in solidarity. After all, it’s my fault you’re miserable.”
I shake my head as I swallow. “No, it’s not. It’s Vivian’s fault. And we’re going to work it out.” I roll my eyes as I mutter beneath my breath, “Sooner or later.”
“If you say so,” Kayla says. “The more I think about it, the more I think I should have kept my mouth shut.”
I nudge her arm with mine. “No, you did the right thing. It’s better I found out when I did. It’ll be easier after the holidays, once the decorations are down and not every tree, holly berry, and sprig of mistletoe reminds me of him.”
Her forehead wrinkles. “I’m sorry. I had to leave the mistletoe up above the library door. The guests were complaining. I didn’t realize how many of them needed an excuse to kiss their spouse in public.”
“You certainly don’t need an excuse,” I say, aiming for a teasing tone, and getting close enough that Kayla smiles.
Maybe I really will be okay again…eventually. Or just get good enough at faking it that my family and friends will stop worrying about me.
“I know. I’m awful.” She shrugs and beams over to where Harry is feeding fresh logs into the fire. “But I can’t help it. He’s just the best.”
“He is the best,” I agree, even as my brain sends images of Leo smiling at me dancing through my head like torturous sugarplums.
He’s the best and none of this is his fault. He has no idea why I stabbed a knife in his heart and ran away without anything close to a decent explanation. He must be so hurt and confused.
He probably hates me.
Or maybe he’s lying in bed, binging takeout and watching It’s a Wonderful Life on repeat, as low and miserable as I am.
Or maybe he went to the Radio City show solo, met a sexy Rockette, and is already rebounding with a vengeance.
The thought is enough to make my eyes begin to water again, but I dig my fingernails into my palms and keep it together. Thirty more minutes. I just have to keep the cheery innkeeper façade in place for thirty more minutes. Then, I can go home, change into my Grinch pajamas, and sob my way through another box of tissues. I bought the kind with lotion at the store yesterday, a sad, luxurious splurge during this, my winter of discontent.
“But he’s not perfect,” Kayla adds. “Remember when he forgot our anniversary two years ago? And that time he bought veal, even though I’ve told him at least a dozen times that the thought of eating baby cow makes me want to cry?”
I frown, wondering what she’s getting at. “Yes, I do. Why? You’re not trying to talk yourself out of getting married this summer, are you? I know your mom thinks you should have a longer engagement, but this is your life, not hers. If you don’t want to wait, you shouldn’t.”
Kayla bites her lip as she picks nervously at the bottom of her Rudolph sweater. “No, it’s not that, I just… Please, keep an open mind, okay? I know you make excellent decisions and usually have no reason to second guess yourself, but we’re all wrong every once and a while. I know I certainly am. Harry, too. We all make mistakes or think things should be one way, but with a little perspective, we realize they don’t have to be. They can be a different way. Or…the same way, but we can handle them differently. Or we can handle more than we thought we could handle, you know?”