The Christmas Cookie Crush (Arcadian Falls Christmas #4)

Chapter 36

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Austin

I’m playing a game of dominoes with my grandparents while we wait for the ham to cook for our Christmas dinner when there’s a knock at the door. Nana prepped the sides yesterday, so only a few other things need warming up once the ham is done, leaving time to relax and play a few rounds while we wait.

We had a low-key morning and a late breakfast, so our Christmas dinner will be at actual dinner time instead of the early afternoon meal I grew up having with my parents more often than not. I still haven’t decided if or when I’ll visit them.

Grampy’s head pops up from studying his dominoes at the knock. “Are we expecting someone?”

Nana and I both shake our heads. “I’ll get it,” Nana says, but I wave her back down.

“No, I’ll get it. You stay. Grampy and you can take your turns while I see who it is.” After laying my dominoes face down so no one will sneak a peek—Grampy’s known to cheat when the opportunity presents itself—I stand and go to the front door.

I’m not sure what or who I expect when I open the door—carolers, maybe? A neighbor with some cookies or candy or a card?—but it certainly isn’t Nora.

She stands on the front porch holding a round dish covered in foil in front of her like some kind of offering or shield. Maybe both.

My jaw clenches involuntarily at the sight of her, a lump forming in my throat immediately.

I never managed to catch a glimpse of her yesterday at ChristmasFest. The last time I saw her, she was wrapped in a towel, standing in the doorway between the bedroom and bathroom in the Honeymooners Cabin. How foolish I was for thinking that maybe someday we could book a Honeymooners Cabin or suite somewhere for real. Eventually.

But no. I was the only one who had those kinds of feelings, those kinds of dreams. Nora only saw me as a convenient bit of fun while she’s home on Christmas Break. For all her talk of wanting to figure out what to do once she graduates, none of it included any chance of me.

“What do you want?” The question comes out gruff and angry.

“Who is it?” calls Nana from the table.

“Merry Christmas,” Nora offers in a small voice, pushing the pie toward me. “Can we talk?”

“Austin?” Grampy’s voice comes from behind me, closer than it should, and I glance over my shoulder to see he’s made his way into the living room. He’s gotten faster with his walker since he’s been following orders and not overdoing it. He’s the walking embodiment of slow and steady wins the race.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Fitzpatrick,” Nora says, a smile on her face, sounding totally normal like she didn’t rip my heart out less than forty-eight hours ago. “I brought one of my mom’s pies. It seems a little silly since, y’know, you’re?—”

“Nonsense,” Grampy interrupts. “Your mother’s pies are always delicious. We’ll happily take it off your hands. Why don’t you come in? Austin, step aside and let her into the house.”

Teeth grinding, I do as Grampy says, ignoring the look Nora throws my way.

She lets my grandparents usher her into the kitchen, Nana standing to take the pie. “We’ll have to save this for after dinner. Have you had Christmas dinner yet? We have plenty if you want to join us.”

“Oh, that’s so kind of you to offer,” Nora says, once again casting a look in my direction. “Unfortunately, I’m expected back at home soon. I can’t stay long. I just needed to talk to Austin for a moment.”

“Well, okay. We’ll just give you two some space.”

Nana crosses into the living room to the coat closet by the front door, opens it, and begins pulling out her and Grampy’s coats.

“Nana, where are you going?” I ask, alarm filling me. What is she doing?

“We’ve been wanting to go for a drive to look at all the Christmas decorations around town. Haven’t we, dear?” she adds to Grampy.

He nods like this was part of their plan today all along and not the first I’m hearing about it.

“What? Since when?” I demand.

Nana gives me a look like I’m being silly. “We do this every year, sweetheart.”

“Really? You didn’t say anything before now. Just wait a minute. Nora and I can talk real quick—I’m sure it won’t take long”—mostly because I don’t really have anything to say and I can’t think what she might have that wasn’t covered already—“and then we can go together.”

Her coat already on, she wraps a scarf around her neck while Grampy sits on his walker and puts his boots on. Then they trade places, and she puts her boots on while he dons his coat and hat.

“Take all the time you need,” Grampy says. “I’m sure it’ll take us a while to make our way through the whole town.”

“What about dinner?” I ask as a last-ditch protest.

“The ham still has nearly an hour left. But if the timer goes off before we get back, be sure to take it out. Leave the lid on the roasting pan, and it’ll be fine.” With that, they wave and get out the door with surprising speed, leaving me alone with Nora.

She clears her throat, and I turn my dumbfounded gaze from the front door to her. “What is going on?” I ask, completely bewildered.

She cracks an awkward smile, tucking her hair behind her ears. “With them? It seems like they wanted to give us time to talk privately. It’s sweet, really.”

Crossing my arms, I turn to face her fully. “You think so?”

She shrugs, tugging the sleeves of her sweater out from her coat sleeves to cover her hands. “Can we talk, though?”

“About what?” I scoff. “Pretty sure you made your position clear the other night. You don’t want any ties to Arcadian Falls. And you know? You’re probably right. If you’re dead set against coming back here, it’s probably better to end things now.” The last words come out choked, the reality of never touching Nora again hitting me like a gut punch once more. I’ll probably see her again—she’ll come back to visit, I’m sure—but imagining her bringing some other guy home to meet her family feels like I’m being scoured with steel wool and then run through the industrial dishwasher at the bakery.

“I’m not,” she says, her voice so quiet I almost can’t hear it over the ringing in my ears.

“What?”

She clears her throat. “I’m not dead set against coming back to Arcadian Falls.” She meets my eyes, squaring her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Austin. I got scared. Dylan got in my head?—”

“What?” I interrupt. “What do you mean? How did he get in your head?”

Sighing, she tugs her sleeves down over her hands again, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “He, um, well …” She sniffs, like saying this is hard for her. “He basically told me all the ways I’d mess up your life.” A tear tracks down her cheek, and she uses the cuff of her sleeve to wipe it away. “That I can’t sustain a relationship, that I’m unreliable and silly, that I’d be doing you a favor by cutting you loose.”

The ball of anger in my gut lurches sideways. “He what?”

She shrugs and sniffs. “He told me how hard long-distance relationships are, that the only way they work is if they’re temporary, and that since I didn’t know what I was doing next but had always planned on moving away from here and you were definitely staying, I should just let you go now. That it would be kinder for both of us.”

The words echo my earlier thoughts, and I cross my arms, needing to stop myself from reaching for her. Watching her cry still guts me, and I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms, comfort her, and tell her everything will be okay.

But I don’t think it will be okay. Not for us, anyway.

“Why are you telling me this, Nora?” I’m proud of how even the question comes out.

Sniffing, she wipes her face again. “Because I realized something.”

I arch an eyebrow, waiting.

She shakes her head. “He’s wrong,” she whispers.

I could’ve told her that, at least some of it. “About what?”

Her hands go up and flop back down. “Everything. All of it.” She sniffs again, then reaches for the tissues sitting on the coffee table, grabbing one and turning away from me to blow her nose. “Sorry,” she murmurs when she’s done. “Sorry.” Closing her eyes, she squares her shoulders and inhales deeply before opening her eyes and meeting mine again. “He’s wrong about me. Maybe I was irresponsible and unreliable when I was a teenager, but I’m not anymore. I work hard at school, I get good grades, and I’m graduating early even after taking longer than normal to declare a major.” Her voice gets more vehement as she lists her accomplishments, and I can’t help the tiny smile tugging at my lips. “I did a kick-ass job as Lead Elf this year. Both my mom and Sarah have told me so, and they’d know better than anyone. Maybe I don’t have the best track record with guys, but I think it’s positive that I ended bad relationships rather than staying with them out of some weird sense of obligation to have something last longer.” Her eyes soften, the fierceness of the last few seconds draining away. “And I think you and I could have something that lasts longer. If you’re still interested.”

I chew on that for a moment, considering. “What about the rest?” I ask, my voice gravel, the words forced through the lump that took up residence in my throat the second she arrived. “You still don’t want to come back here. Or at least you don’t want me to be the reason you come back here.”

She takes a deep breath. “I’m going to be the Assistant Manager at the Christmas Emporium. Sarah offered me the job today.”

My breath freezes in my chest at her announcement, my whole body going cold. “So …”

Hesitantly, she moves closer to me. A half step, no more. “So I’ve figured out what happens after graduation. I know where I’ll be. Here.”

The words are soft, little more than a whisper, but they echo through me with the strength and shock of a klaxon. “That’s great,” I manage to whisper. “I’m happy for you.”

Her expression turns pleading. “Don’t you see? This—us—what we have, it doesn’t have to be over.”

“Doesn’t it?”

She blinks, rocking back on her heels like the words are a slap. “Does it?” Now her voice is hoarse, harsh, choked.

I thought that would make me feel better—evidence that she’s as hurt as I am. But it doesn’t. It does the opposite.

Closing my eyes, I rub my fingers between my eyebrows. “I don’t know, Nora. What am I supposed to do with this? How am I supposed to respond?”

She lets out a harsh breath. “I … I guess I don’t know. I thought …” Her swallow is audible in the stillness of the house, not even the sound of cars passing outside to interrupt us. I open my eyes to see her hand drop, like she was just reaching for me. “Well, I guess I thought that”—a sniff—“that if we had a possible way forward, we could still be together.” The final words are a whisper so quiet, I read her lips more than hear them.

“Why wasn’t that possible before?” My voice is finally steady. Firm. The way I want it to be. Why couldn’t she give us a chance even when she didn’t see the way through?

She clasps her hands over her chest. “I’m sorry, Austin.” She’s still whispering, her voice still choked with tears, and one slides down her cheek, but she doesn’t wipe it away this time. “I wanted …” She shakes her head. “No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to break up with you. I was trying to talk to you, and the words came out all wrong. I do that.” She offers me a sad smile. “I have a tendency to say the wrong things and ruin moments and relationships.” Wrapping her arms around herself, she ducks her chin, looking down. “I don’t know why. I don’t try to. It just happens. I am, after all, the ruiner of things.”

God, the broken hurt in her voice kills me. I can’t take it anymore. I close the distance between us and pull her into my arms. “Stop it,” I command. “You are not. I’m the one who left. Who didn’t let you finish saying what you were trying to say. I didn’t hear you out or propose anything or let you have time and space to come to your own decisions. I wanted you to be on the same page as me immediately without giving you a chance.”

Lifting her head, she blinks up at me, eyes red, lashes clumped and spiky with tears. “I still said it all wrong.”

“So we’re both not perfect. You say the wrong things. I jump to conclusions.” I stare into her eyes, barely daring to recognize the hope there. “So … you’re coming back to Arcadian Falls after you graduate? That’s what you want?”

She nods. “Yes.” Her voice gurgles, and she stops to clear her throat. “Yes.” It’s firm this time. “It’s what I want. It’s what I’ve always wanted. I just didn’t know it was ever a possibility. I thought—” She shakes her head. “I thought there wasn’t room for me.” It’s a whisper again. “I thought I was the afterthought, the flighty one who everyone just watched, waiting for me to fail.”

“But that’s not true. You’re not like that at all.”

One shoulder lifts. “Apparently, you’re right. At least where my parents and Sarah are concerned. Their advice and encouragement wasn’t because I was too stupid, it was because they want what’s best for me. And they were waiting for me to decide what I wanted without pressuring me to do something specific because they didn’t want to make me feel like I couldn’t branch out if that’s what I wanted. And I thought there wasn’t room for me in the family business. Or that the room they made was grudging because I’m too much of a screw-up to make it on my own.”

“Oh, Nora.” I hug her tightly, pressing her head to my chest and kissing her forehead.

She lets me comfort her for a moment. “What does this mean?” she asks in a whisper.

Pausing, I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It means that I want you,” I answer. “For always. If you’ll have me.”

In answer, she pulls her arms free and wraps them over my shoulders, lifting her face and pressing a kiss to my lips. I’m surprised enough that it takes me a second to respond, but I cradle her head and kiss her back.

Dear god, I thought I’d never do this again.

But here she is, in my arms, a plan for the future in place. A plan that includes me and fills all the desires she’s had for years.

The whiplash is breathtaking. And the reality hasn’t quite settled into my bones yet. But hope blooms inside me, filling me up and banishing all the lingering sadness.

“This is real?” I ask, breaking the kiss to peer into her face once more.

She smiles at me. A real smile, no more of the sad, forced smiles. “Yes. It’s real. Merry Christmas.”

Grinning, I kiss her again. “Merry Christmas,” I murmur against her lips.