The Asheville Christmas Tradition (Carolina Christmas #4)

9. Hannah

Addition and subtraction was so much harder a week before winter break. Twenty-seven little faces stared back at Hannah with no interest—zero-plus-zero interest, to be specific—in learning today.

“I wonder if we could sneak into lunch early,” she mused, getting the first glimmer of enthusiasm from any of her kids.

Several cheered. A few sat up straight. Nick and Dan high-fived each other and closed their math books so fast, Hannah could feel the breeze.

She killed some time putting books away, letting some kids go to the bathroom, making order in the classroom, and lining them up. By the time they reached the cafeteria, they were only five minutes before the bell, so she played a Christmas word game in line and, finally, a break.

Anxious for the pasta salad she’d made the night before, Hannah headed toward the teachers’ lunchroom, reaching the door at the same moment as Nancy Arcuni.

“Hello, beautiful,” the older woman greeted her with a smile. “You’re in a hurry.”

“I’m starved and my kids have…” She glanced at her watch. “Forty minutes. I need every one of them.”

Nancy put her arm around Hannah and guided her into the room where about a dozen teachers were scattered around a few round tables, some in conversation, some on their phones, some reading. Tinsel hung haphazardly around the window behind an artificial tree in the corner.

“Eat with me,” Nancy said. “I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” Was this going to be another dressing down on her marital status? Hannah considered begging off, but she respected the older woman and had known her too long to be rude.

So, she got her Tupperware and a drink and settled into a round table with Nancy, joining a music teacher named Maggie Burns and a first-year third-grade teacher, Tianna Dupree.

After some chatter and jokes about how ready they all were for a month off, Nancy scooted closer and put her hand on Hannah’s arm.

“Ready for my surprise?”

Hannah nodded slowly, not sure where this was going.

Nancy brought out her phone, clicked a few times, then turned to show her a picture of a man in his thirties with short brown hair and a sweet smile.

“This is Luke.”

“Okay. He looks…nice. New teacher?” she guessed.

“New love interest.” She grinned. “You’re welcome.”

“New…interest…” Hannah sputtered, looking at the other two teachers, who leaned in, curious to see the phone.

“That’s my nephew,” Nancy told them, showing him off like a new car. “My youngest sister’s oldest son, who will be here for the Christmas break.” She squeezed Hannah’s arm. “You should marry him!”

The other teachers laughed, not sure if she was kidding or not, but Hannah felt her heart drop down to her feet. She wasn’t kidding—Nancy was serious.

And that meant instead of enjoying her pasta salad for forty minutes and making small talk with her co-workers, she’d be defending her eleven-year relationship with a man who couldn’t commit.

Really?

“Thanks, Nancy, but I’m?—”

“Oh, I know what you are—a sweet girl with a good heart and no backbone. And I am offering up Luke, the most wonderful man, who is completely single, makes six figures, and is looking for a good woman to have by his side.”

“Aren’t too many of those around,” Tianna said. “I’d grab him, Hannah.”

“No kidding,” Maggie chimed in. “I’ve been married for, what? Two years now? I am so glad I’m done with that rat race of being single.”

“I don’t mind it,” Tianna said. “But I’m only twenty-four. I think it stops being fun at twenty-seven.”

Hannah almost groaned, not wanting to admit she was ten years older than Tianna. “I really appreciate the offer, Nancy, but?—”

“It’s not an offer, it’s a done deal,” she said. “I sent him a picture I took of you at the Christmas party and he was so interested.” She leaned in and tapped the phone, showing a text string. “Look, he said, ‘Ugly sweater, pretty girl. Please set up a date.’”

Hannah just stared at her, pasta salad turning to cement in her mouth.

“Do it, Hannah!”

She whipped around to Tianna and managed to swallow. “I have a boyfriend. I’ve been with him forever.”

“Exactly,” Nancy said, pulling Hannah’s attention back to her, but not before she caught the look that passed between Maggie and Tianna. “But you don’t have a ring, so there really isn’t a forever, is there?”

Hannah let out a sigh, furious that she felt she owed these women an explanation. “I’m very happy,” she said.

“Are you?” Nancy countered, clearly not ready to back down. “Is this what you want from your man? Because I happen to think you’re worth more. And I bet if you ask your sister or your new stepsisters or whatever they are, they’d all agree.”

“They love Keith,” she said.

“They love you ,” Nancy countered. “And they don’t want to hurt your feelings. But I am not family, just an observant old woman who happens to think you have a light in your eyes and a sweet soul. All of it is being wasted on a man who won’t make you his wife. And frankly, at this point, I’m not sure I’d want him.”

“Well, I do,” she said.

“I understand that,” Nancy said. “You’ve made a big investment. How many years together? Ten?”

“Eleven.”

Nancy winced. “Ouch. That’s a lot of time, Hannah, but, honey, you’re still young. There are terrific men out there.” She tapped the phone she’d set face down. “Men like my nephew.”

And men like…Brandon Fletcher.

As she had since the field trip, Hannah pushed the memory of the hockey player-turned-tree farmer from her mind. Keith was her boyfriend, and she was committed to him.

“So, can I tell Luke you’ll have lunch or coffee? Just meet and see if there’s a little spark.” Nancy leaned in. “You know, the spark? It’s a delicious feeling, isn’t it?”

And once again, she thought of Brandon Fletcher, who sparked so much he darn near lit her on fire.

Now the pasta salad threatened to come back up.

“Well, thank you for your advice,” Hannah said stiffly as she closed the container and started repacking what was left of her lunch. “The fact is, I’m very comfortable in my relationship. I know Keith so well, and he knows me. We love each other. We…” She looked from one to the other. “We’re not up for discussion.”

With that, she rose and put her food back in the fridge, taking the rest of her lunch break outside, listening to kids scream on the playground the way she wanted to scream into the air.

She wasn’t happy and she knew exactly what to do about it. But for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to give Keith an ultimatum.

Maybe because an ultimatum wasn’t the answer. Maybe the answer was to give Keith…the big goodbye.

And she could barely stand the thought of that, which was probably why of all the ways Nancy had described her—good heart, sweet soul, pretty face—only one was indisputable: no backbone.

While Hannah was home alone wrapping Christmas presents that evening, the inevitable “come on over” text came from Keith. She stared at the words for a long time, and thought of all the ways she could say no.

He wouldn’t be that upset. Because if she didn’t go to see him tonight, she would the next night. Or they’d go out on the weekend, or spend time with her family—although he’d probably be late or leave early—and then more of the same next week.

She was in a deep, deep rut. And as comfortable as that might be, she had to climb out. She knew because the blues had pressed on her all day, alternating with bouts of anger. Stress crawled through her as she considered what she’d say to Keith, and how.

It wasn’t anything she hadn’t said before, but this time…she meant it. Or did she?

She texted back that she would be over in a bit, then she finished wrapping some presents for her nephews, dressed and freshened her makeup, and got in the car with all the enthusiasm of someone headed in for a root canal.

Letting herself into his small house on the outskirts of Asheville, the first thing Hannah heard was the sound of a hockey game on TV.

Hockey.

Instantly, she conjured up images of blue eyes and long hair and strong arms wrapped around her while they sailed down the side of a mountain.

“Babe, guess what?” Keith called. “Hurricanes are up by two goals and I put twenty on them at work today.”

“That’s great,” she said, putting her purse on the kitchen counter and slipping out of her jacket. It smelled like eggs and onions, which was probably what he’d made for dinner. Keith never cooked, but loved it when she did. “How much will you win?”

“Two hundred smackeroos.” He patted the empty leather sofa next to him. “C’mere and bring me luck.”

She joined him, shared a quick kiss, then stared at the TV. The hockey players whipped back and forth on the ice, but suddenly—for the first time ever—she was interested and actually wanted to watch the sport.

It was better than that ultimatum she should probably deliver.

“Oh, man!” Keith shot off the sofa. “How’d he miss that goal?”

Better question: how could he be so clueless as to not realize the woman he allegedly loved was sitting right here next to him thinking about giving him an end date. Engagement, marriage, or…

Or what? What if she said “it’s now or never” and he said…okay? They’d get married. And that would be?—

“And that is the game, baby!” He jumped up and fist-pumped the air. “Two hundred for me!” He leaned over to kiss her. “Someone is going to get a very nice Christmas present.”

But not the ring she…

Wait a second . Did she even want a ring?

Or did she want a backbone?

It felt like her blood was running ice cold, enough that she shivered. Not that Keith noticed. He was already texting someone—presumably whoever would pay him that two hundred dollars.

Taking a deep breath, she realized her throat was dry, so she pushed up from the sofa and went back into the kitchen for water.

“Get me a brewski, babe,” Keith called. “And get one for yourself! Skinner’s gonna pay me tomorrow.”

She cringed at the mention of Ron Skinner, a man who worked at Keith’s body shop who gave her a total ick. She hated the way he looked at her, hated his unsubtle comments about her body, hated…him.

Was Keith…much better?

As she stood at the sink getting water, she looked into the den at the man she thought she loved. They’d shared a lot—laughter, travel, good times and bad. He’d been a solid boyfriend for most of their time together, but the older they got, the more he…wasn’t what she wanted.

So why should she push for a ring or a proposal? Why not just…leave?

Oh, my .

The thought had grown from a mustard seed to a much larger kernel today and now? It was sprouting and rooting and about to wrap around her until it strangled her.

Break up with him? How could she? Hannah was horrified by the idea of being alone.

Ever since her mother had died when she was thirteen, Hannah had been terrified to be alone. Not long after her sister got married, Hannah met Keith and it was easy to be with him. He made no demands, so neither did she.

“Brewski?” he called, a note of impatience in his voice.

She grabbed a bottle of light beer from the fridge and walked slowly toward the den, where Keith was grinning on the sofa. “Man, I shoulda put fifty on the Hurricanes. I knew they’d win this game.” He took the beer. “Thanks. You okay?”

Finally, he noticed her.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Long day. Kids are antsy. So am I.”

“Oh, I get that. Time for Christmas and—oh, here’s the MVP. Look at that dude. He’s a beast.”

She turned to the TV, mostly for a distraction from the terrifying thoughts plaguing her. The hockey player didn’t look anything like the one she’d been flirting with—he had blond hair and a beard that covered any scars. But still, his slightly long hair and confident attitude reminded her of?—

No. She couldn’t sit here and think about another man. She had to think about this one and what she was going to say. She couldn’t take this anymore.

The truth was, she didn’t want to give him an ultimatum.

She wanted…out.

She didn’t want crumbs from Keith Kelly. Or beer or two-hundred-dollar bets or anything .

Now what?

She could barely breathe just thinking about it.

The hockey player on the screen was talking fast, looking around, and finally turned right to the camera.

“I gotta do something,” the player said, wiping his brow. “Marissa. Babe. C’mere!”

The way he called off-camera got her attention, mostly because it sounded just like Keith with the “Babe, c’mere” demand.

Don’t do it, Marissa. Don’t jump when he tells you .

But all of a sudden, a beautiful blonde was on the screen, laughing, showing off a set of blinding, perfect veneers and a body that Hannah would kill to have as her very own. Was that the kind of girl Brandon Fletcher dated?

The hockey player pulled the woman closer for a kiss, making the interviewer laugh.

“We really wanted to hear about that last goal,” the reporter said, holding the microphone closer.

“I only have one goal,” the player said, looking into Marissa’s lash-extended eyes. “One goal. One love. One question to ask.”

“Oh, man,” Keith groaned. “Can we talk about that last near-miss, dude?”

But Hannah was mesmerized, watching the interaction frozen in her seat, gasping when the hockey player dropped to one knee.

“Babe!” the girl squealed. “What are you doing?”

“I’m asking you to marry me, Marissa Wilding. Right now, in front of millions of fans. I love you and want to spend my life with you.”

Hannah pressed both hands to her lips, tears springing forward.

“Seriously?” Keith grabbed the remote and smacked it, turning the beautiful moment to a black screen. “What a bunch of?—”

“I thought it was…lovely,” she whispered, her voice tight.

“Lovely?” He mocked the word. “I think it’s a candy ass move, if you ask me.”

“Why?” she demanded as he took a long swig of his beer. “He loves her and wants to marry her.”

He put the beer bottle on the table with a thud. “I know that’s what you want, Hannah,” he said softly. “And Christmas is?—”

“No.” The word was out before she could stop herself.

“’Scuze me? Did you just say no? You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

She inched back, looking hard at him. “Just…no. Don’t…say it or ask me or…anything.”

He snorted. “Well, if that’s how you?—”

“I’m serious, Keith. Don’t do it.”

“Please.” He flicked his fingers in her direction. “Never even thought of it. You know where I stand on the subject. I’m glad you agree. Save me the cashola of buying a ring for?—”

She held up both hands, not surprised they were trembling. “Stop. I don’t know if you were or you weren’t, but…” She swallowed hard and all humor left his face as he stared at her.

“What?” he croaked the word.

“I want to end this.”

His brows furrowed. “This discussion? This night? This?—”

“This relationship,” she whispered. “I’m done, Keith. I want to move on. I don’t…” She took a deep breath. “I don’t love you that way anymore. I’m sorry. I really am. I just?—”

His whole face screwed up and for a second, she thought he was going to cry. Then he pulled it together and picked up his beer, taking a deep drink while she stared at him.

When he finished, he put it back down and nodded. “Fine. Do what you gotta do, Hannah. I won’t stop you.”

She didn’t move for a moment, then stood up very slowly, walking to the kitchen like she was wading through water. Part of her hoped he would come running after her.

But a much bigger, stronger, better part of her hoped he wouldn’t.

That part won.

She didn’t even cry, which was the strangest part of all. She got her coat, purse, and keys, and went home alone.

Just Hannah and…her backbone.