That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe (Abieville Love Stories #4)

Chapter 42

Chapter Forty-Two

Three

Sara’s jaw drops, and I can’t help thinking Ford and Nella would have the same reaction. Sure, they both seemed to support me reconnecting with Sara these past few days, but going to the Hathaways’ fancy fundraiser in Manhattan?

That’s a whole different ballgame.

Also of note, I volunteered to jump into the lion’s den, when I don’t even know if Sara believes what I told her about her parents. Still, judging from the long breath she just drew in, and the tremble at her jawline, I’m guessing I’m about to find out.

“I can’t take you,” she says. Her voice is quiet, but edged with something rough.

“Come on.” I nudge her shoulder. “I’d actually love to see the look on your mom and dad’s face when I make a donation in person.”

“No.”

“Why? Because you’re embarrassed to be seen with me?”

She frowns. “Because that would mean at least six hours in the car round trip, which can’t be good for your concussion. Not to mention, after the gala, I’d either have to drive us all the way back to Abieville in the middle of the night, or we’d be stuck staying at my parents’ place. Would you really be comfortable waking up on Christmas morning with Katherine and Charles?”

I gulp, then my mouth falls open and shuts again, wordlessly. I wish I could say I’d be cool with a sleepover at the Hathaway penthouse, but I just don’t know, and I won’t lie to Sara.

“See?” Her shoulders slump in the wake of my silence. “I can’t take you with me. And I’m not leaving you either.” She takes a beat. “Not until you can safely drive yourself or until family gets back. Whichever comes first.”

“Then I suppose we’re at an impasse.”

“We aren’t. I’m staying in Abieville.”

My chest goes tight, hearing those words. “You have no idea how much I’d love for you to stay. But only if you have different reasons.”

She eyes me sideways. “Like what kind of reasons?”

“Like if you actually loved this town. Or if being here for the holidays meant something to you. But you only ever spent summers in Abieville, and I can’t have you sticking around now—over Christmas—out of guilt.”

“But I am guilty.”

“Sara.” I frown. “I came charging into that house without knocking, in a hoodie drawn so tightly over my face I might as well have been wearing a bank robber’s mask. The room was smoky. You were already in a panic. Hitting me with that fire extinguisher was an instinct. It’s not your fault.”

She’s quiet for a moment, taking this in. “Why are you defending me now?”

“Because you didn’t defend yourself in the first place.” I shift my gaze back out the windshield. “I let you take the blame because I think a part of me—granted, a heavily medicated and concussed part—wanted you to stick around when everyone else went on the cruise. ”

“No.” She gapes. “You rejected my offer to stay with you at the hospital.”

“The protest was pretty weak, if you recall.” I smirk. “And then I threw up all over myself. Of course you weren’t going to give up and abandon the pathetic vomiter in the wheelchair.”

“Weren’t you just nauseated from the concussion and the meds?”

“Yes. But I was also curious about who you’d become, and if I’d recognize the old Sara.” I clear my throat. “Once the initial pain meds wore off, I felt so drawn to you. I kept hoping I hadn’t slipped on a big pair of rose-colored nostalgia glasses.”

“I felt it too,” she says before I can continue. “In fact, when I first offered to stay with you, it was mostly out of guilt. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t wondering about you too.”

“Really?”

She nods. “I mean, of course I didn’t want anyone in your family to miss out on their holiday because of me. But there were other options. I could’ve hired someone to come stay with you for a week. A home healthcare worker or something.”

“Hold up.” My brow arches. “Round-the-clock, in-home help isn’t cheap. You have that kind of extra cash lying around? You aren’t even a full-time attorney yet.”

Soft laughter puffs across her lips. “Thanks for pointing that out,” she says. “But you’re right. I couldn’t afford something like that. My parents could, though. They would’ve paid someone if I’d asked them.”

“Ahh. Right. Of course they’d be willing to shell out any amount of money to keep Three Fuller away from their daughter.”

Sara’s quiet for a beat. Then she says, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Okay.” I nod, my chest going tight. “So you gave it some thought overnight, and you’ve decided I’m wrong. That your parents actually liked me and the rest was all in my head.”

Sara takes a quick peek in my direction. “To be honest, I don’t know what to think.” She cuts her eyes back to the road. “Yes, my parents are probably a bit too focused on social status … and sure, they’re overly impressed by our Mayflower heritage … but I’ve never witnessed them putting down other people or intentionally criticizing anyone.” She pauses to swallow. “Maybe I’m just na?ve and I only see what I want to see. But don’t we all do that when it comes to the ones we love?”

I clear my throat. “I guess so.”

“What I do know is they were having a private conversation when you overheard them. So whatever they said to each other wasn’t meant for your ears. Or for mine.”

I blow out a breath. “And yet you’re still pretty sure they would’ve forked over big bucks to prevent you from spending a few days with me. If you’d asked.”

Sara slows as she approaches the bridge, rolling to a full stop at the deserted four-way intersection. “ You were the one who asked me not to tell my parents I was with you.” She cuts the engine, then turns to face me, a flush spreading across her cheeks. “And for the record, I never heard them speak ill of you, even after they saw how badly you broke my heart.”

“Yeah.” I avert my gaze. “They were probably too busy being thrilled I wasn’t holding you back anymore.”

“You know what? Maybe it’s time to consider that you’ve got just as much bias against my parents as you think they have toward you.”

Whoa. This shuts me up. Fast.

Balling my hands into fists, I stare out at the lake, stretching dark and frozen in front of us.

“You’re right,” I say, my voice gruff. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” she says. “Whether it was intentional or not, you got hurt because of me too.”

“Hurt.” The single syllable cracks something loose in my chest. “That’s one way of putting it. Honestly, losing you felt … closer to dying.” I huff out a breath, making fu n of myself. “Not to be overly dramatic.”

“Are you kidding?” Sara lets out her own gust of air. “Bristol told me I could’ve been an extra on The Walking Dead .”

My throat tightens like a boa constrictor’s wrapped around it. “Man, I hate that.”

“I didn’t exactly love it.”

We both fall quiet and Sara starts up the car, slowly pulling onto the bridge. We stay silent for a stretch as she drives us across the lake. Then I say, “I guess I just needed some time to grow up.”

She nods. “We both did.”

“Yeah.” I run a hand over the top of my head, pausing on the tender swelling. “As hard as that time was, it made me pull myself together and work toward the life I have now.”

Sara tips her chin. “And burying myself in work got me through the toughest years of school, internships, and tests.”

“So … are we actually saying there was an upside to what happened?”

“You know I do love a good silver lining.” She swallows hard. “But that whole time, I never let anyone else get close to me. And I never stopped thinking about you.”

When she casts her gaze my way, her dark eyes set off an avalanche of emotions tumbling along my sternum. “I couldn’t forget you either. Hard as I tried.”

She returns her eyes to the road. “Good.”

At this point, her car is halfway across the bridge. Soon we’ll be at a crossroads.

Literally.

“So what do we do now?” I ask. “About the gala? Our so-called impasse?”

“Hmm.” She pauses for a moment, cocks her head. “I propose a settlement.”

“Wow.” I guffaw. “You really are a lawyer, aren’t you?”

One corner of her mouth lifts in a half smile. “Yep. I really am.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“We stay at the lake house for one more night. Enjoy our leftovers and the Christmas tree. Scarf a bunch of pie and cake. Then tomorrow, once we’ve gotten our final approval from Ryan Detweiler, I’ll drive home for the gala.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“But I’m going to come back first thing the next morning.”

I blink. “On Christmas?”

She nods. “That way my parents will have me for my birthday and the gala, but you’ll only be housebound for about … twelve hours. Hopefully you can sleep through most of them.”

“I don’t know.” I break into a grimace. “That’s a lot of time in the car for you.”

“ Maybe I think you’re worth it.”

“Maybe?”

She tosses me a quick glance, her eyes bright, and my insides fizz, right along with the buzzing in my pocket. I slip my phone out and check the text.

Kenny

You’re all set, buddy. #OSS