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

Chapter 55

Chapter Fifty-Five

Three

Plot twist: Sara’s mom and dad have been parked in the driveway this entire time waiting to be invited in. To a house they own.

Apparently, once Sara explained what went down with us ten years ago—plus our last few days together, not to mention her plans to relocate to Abieville—the Hathaways insisted on coming here to have a face-to-face conversation with me.

Gulp.

As a side note: their driver has the day off, so Mr. Hathaway actually drove his family here himself in their town car. For three hours. On Christmas.

Big gulp.

I hear a car door slam out front, and my heart starts thrashing. Or, more accurately, my heart starts thrashing even more , because my engines started running pretty hot the moment Sara said she wanted to move here.

For the record, I’m no longer worried about the Hathaways saying something negative about me. Even if they did, I’m not that same kid with a chip on his shoulder I was back then. Much as I’d like to gain Sara’s parents’ approval, their opinions can’t sway what I know to be true about myself anymore. And anyway, I have to believe Sara wouldn’t bring her parents down here if they were going to thoroughly object to us.

Either way, if we’re going to have a future together, we’d better believe in each other beyond a shadow of a doubt.

She flashes me a quick smile as she pushes through the door just ahead of her parents. They’re both sporting winter-white pants and turtleneck sweaters that look a tad on the itchy side. As if this moment isn’t awkward enough, I’m still wearing the joggers and hoodie I had on when I fell asleep last night. I stand to meet them, extending a hand. Sara’s dad reaches me first.

“Merry Christmas, sir.” I immediately regret the opening line, but my greeting is nothing if not accurate.

“Hello, Three.” His grip is firm, maybe a little extra firm, which makes sense under the circumstances.

I nod at Sara’s mom, my eyes bouncing between her and her firm-handed husband. “It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Hathaway.”

“Please.” She offers me a tentative smile. “We’re all adults. Call us Kate and Charles.”

“I will.” This is what I say, but I’ve already decided I might try not to use their names today. Or ever. “Thanks for coming all the way out here.” I glance out the window. “Quite the drive.”

“Sure.” Charles surveys the room, like he’s seeing it for the first time since the renovation. Then again, he probably is. “I used to make the same trip back and forth every weekend over the summers we stayed here.”

I duck my head. “I guess you did.”

“Anyway, we’re glad to get the chance to catch up with you,” Katherine pipes up. “And the place looks wonderful.”

Sara offers to give them a tour, including a stop by the storage room. I stay behind, building a fire in the fireplace, and soaking up the surreal pivot this day has taken. When the three of them return to the living room, Sara joins me over by the mantel, reaching for my hand. She gives my fingers a quick press, and I immediately feel more at ease. That’s the effect she has on me in less than a week.

Well. Less than a week, plus four summers.

“Should we have a seat?” Katherine suggests. She and Charles each take opposite sides of the couch, and Sara moves over to sit between them. While the Hathaways are creating their own little coed triumvirate, I take the lone armchair.

I miss Sara’s hand already.

“If you don’t mind”—Charles tugs at the neck of his sweater—“Katherine and I would like to clear something up with you right away.” I nod in wordless agreement, and he darts quick peeks sideways at his wife and daughter. “Sara shared with us what you overheard here—many years ago—and I’ll be honest with you, Three, I don’t remember that conversation.”

Right.

I’m not surprised the details aren’t burned into Charles Hathaway’s brain. After all, he got his way that day. Within hours, Sara and I were over, which is exactly what the man wanted. Mission accomplished.

“But while the specifics may have escaped me,” he adds, “I do recall my general sentiments at the time. And I was not in favor of you and Sara pursuing a serious relationship.”

Another nod from me. “Yes, I figured that out.”

“I’d like to claim you misheard me,” he continues, “but that wouldn’t necessarily be true. I probably did say exactly what you remember. And if I sounded judgmental, or my words knocked you down, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I didn’t come here to make excuses.” He casts a quick glance at Sara, then his eyes swing back to me. “But if you have a daughter someday, maybe you’ll understand where I was coming from.” He lays both palms on his knees and leans forward. “We spent our summers here in Abieville, but as time went by, Katherine and I felt like we were losing Sara the other nine months of the year. We were afraid her focus in college would be compromised. That she’d end up sacrificing her goals. So we thought?—”

“Dad,” Sara interrupts. “We’ve already discussed this. Three and I did. Then I talked to you and Mom. So there’s no need to rehash what you said and your reasons for it all over again. That’s not why you came here.”

“You’re right.” His jaw shifts. “In any case, I’d like to hear from you, Three. This is all a lot to take in, you know. Sara came back to Abieville on a family errand completely unrelated to you. And yet, you two ended up reconnecting. Unexpectedly.”

“Well, I might’ve had some idea I’d see him,” Sara quips. “And I’m a grownup, Dad. I don’t need anyone else to understand us but us.”

“Grownup or not,” Katherine says, turning to face Sara, “you’re still our baby.” Her voice cracks, and she flicks her gaze over to me. “All Charles and I care about—all we’ve ever cared about—is our daughter’s happiness.”

I clear the jagged edge in my throat. “Then I’m glad to report, we have the same goal.”

“That’s obvious, just seeing the two of you together.” Katherine’s eyes glimmer with unshed tears. “Sara’s never looked so happy.”

Charles grunts. “So you’ll take care of her.” The words are a statement, not a question, which I hope means he already believes this. Still, I want to do my part to remove any lingering doubts. It’s time to plead my case.

“I’m a hard worker, sir, and I make a good, honest living.” My bones feel tight in my torso, but I carry on. “I intend to do whatever it takes to provide for your daughter. Always.”

“Same,” Sara pipes up. “I mean, I want to provide for us, too.”

My gaze sweeps over to her, and the warmth of her smile is a blanket on my insides. “How about we take care of each other?”

She lifts her palm and lays it on her chest just over her heart. “Deal.”

When I do the same, mirroring her, Sara sucks in a breath and points across the table. “The cuff.”

I glance down to the sleeve of my shirt now riding up my forearm. “Oh. This. Yes.” Around my wrist is the same leather cuff Sara gave me for my birthday years ago. “I still have yours too.” I nod to indicate the only present under the tree. “And I guess I just ruined the surprise.”

“You kept them both? All this time?” Her questions are breathless but full of joy.

My lip curves up on one side. “I told you I never got over you.”

Sara hops up, squeezing between her mother’s legs and the coffee table. At the same time, I slowly rise from the chair. So when she leaps into my arms, I’m ready to catch her.

I’ll always catch Sara.

She wraps her legs around my middle, and plants the sweetest kiss on my mouth.

“I’d like to rephrase.” I grin at her. “I never stopped loving you.”