The Holiday Games

Chapter 23

twenty-three

. . .

Caroline

‘ T was the night before Christmas and all through the inn, not a drop of joy remained, not even a smidge…

At least not for me.

From the moment I left Leo in the city, I’ve been living The Wizard of Oz in reverse.

My world of bright, vivid color has faded to a depressing grayscale not even a profusion of holiday decorations and festive vibes can penetrate. Reindeer Corners is doing cheery small-town Christmas the way only it can, complete with lights and carolers and sleigh rides through Farmer Rick’s pasture at the edge of town.

But in my heart, it’s already the depths of February.

It doesn’t help that Vivian has flaked on both of our dates to meet up for coffee and a heart-to-heart about the situation with Leo. She even pretended not to be home when I swung by her place last night after work. I’d hoped to clear the air and make a plan while Frank and the kids were in the town square waiting for Santa Claus, but my repeated knocking went unanswered. I could see my cousin moving around behind the curtains when I walked up the steps, but she was committed to playing possum.

Eventually, I shouted, “I’ll be back, Vivian, and we’re going to talk this through. You can’t avoid me forever.”

And we can’t just move forward like nothing happened. Leo deserves to know that he has a child. I refuse to keep that kind of secret from anyone, let alone the man I love.

I still love him. So much.

The longing hasn’t faded a single iota. If anything, it’s gotten worse. I think about Leo all day and dream about him every night. I replay every moment of our time together—a mental bruise I can’t keep my fingers from probing—and the sight of Greg padding around the inn in festive holiday sweaters is enough to bring me to the verge of tears.

A few nights ago, I lost control and slumped down beside the fireplace in the lobby, hugging Greg as I sobbed into his fur. Thankfully, it was nearly midnight, and Henrietta, the night manager, was the only one still around. But I could tell I scared her a little. She fetched me tea, cocoa, a cranberry seltzer and a piece of her special banana bread before calling Ben, her husband, to come give me a ride home on his snowmobile so I wouldn’t have to walk a mile in the dark.

Meanwhile, Greg has been an absolute saint. The moment my bottom lip begins to tremble, he’s right here, twining his way around my ankles, purring as if to say, “Hold on, honey. Your happily ever after is coming, just wait and see.”

But I don’t want happily ever after without Leo. I don’t want anything without Leo. I’m down in the dumpiest of dumps, so low and plagued by misery that I’ve become nostalgic for my existential crisis days.

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 fa?ade 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?”

“No, not at all.” My throat tightens with foreboding, but before I can demand to know what she’s up to, I hear Vivian’s laughter from across the room.

My head jerks to the right, my blood pressure spiking as my cousin and her family file inside, exchanging pleasantries with the other locals attending the reading as they move toward the cookie station.

I whip my gaze back to Kayla to ask why Vivian’s here, after I explicitly asked her to tell my cousin we were too full to welcome locals this year. But Kayla’s already on the move, bustling across the room to dim the lights. “All right, folks,” she burbles in her hospitality voice, “It’s almost story time. Find a cozy spot and settle in while I light The Night Before Christmas candle!”

Gritting my teeth, I collect the leatherbound book from the shelf and move to the small raised platform beside the tree. When we first started this tradition, I sat in the overstuffed chair in the corner and read to the ten or twelve kids who showed up in their pajamas. But in the past five years, the event has grown, becoming the first stop in the Christmas Eve festivities for guests and locals alike.

People fill up on cookies and cocoa here before walking through the light display behind the country store and ending the evening with a Santa watch and caroling in the town square. The kids have a blast, and the grown-ups do, too.

I should have known my cousin would ignore the request to stay away. As selfish as she can be, she wouldn’t want to deprive my nephews of one of their holiday traditions.

I don’t want to do that, either, but I’d be lying if I said my stomach wasn’t eating itself as my gaze flicks over Gilly’s sweet little face. He doesn’t look like Leo—he has Vivian’s blond curls and giant hazel eyes—but that doesn’t matter. I know he’s Leo’s son, and I can’t unknow that, no matter how much I might want to.

And maybe their appearance on the scene is a good thing. Maybe, if I move fast enough, I can catch Vivian and pull her aside before they leave the inn.

I have to convince her to contact Leo and tell him the truth, before the burden of this secret eats me alive.

But first, to pretend I’m in the holiday spirit for a little bit longer…

“Welcome everyone. I’m so glad you could join us tonight,” I say, with a smile that begins to feel more natural as I scan the faces lifted to mine. Everyone looks so happy, so excited for the night ahead and the chance to share this special time of year with the people who matter most.

There is love in the world, and I’m so grateful for it, even while I’m chin-deep in the swamp of broken hearts.

“Cuddle your stuffies close and listen for sleigh bells,” I say, the usual magic creeping into my voice as Kayla dims the lights a bit more. “Because this is Santa’s favorite story, and sometimes he swings by to listen in.”

“That’s why we left cookies on the front porch!” a little girl with bright red curls calls out from the back, sending a wave of laughter through the room.

I nod. “That’s right. And carrots, too, for the reindeer. And now, The Night Before Christmas by Clement Clarke Moore.”

I pull in a breath, but before I can read the first line, a gasp sounds from the corner of the room and my cousin squawks, “What are you doing here? You have to go. Now! Right now!”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not until I talk to Caroline,” a deep voice rumbles, sending electricity jolting through me.

My eyes meet Leo’s across the room and my heart soars.

Nothing has changed, our stars are still crossed beyond repair, but I can’t help it, I can’t look at this man without joy flooding through my every cell.

“Frank, make him leave,” Vivian shrieks, clawing at her husband’s arm. “Call the police if you have to. I told you, he’s dangerous.”

“Oh, he is not,” Kayla snaps. “Now, be quiet, and let everyone enjoy the story. And then Caroline is going to talk to this nice man who drove all the way from New York City to see her, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“That’s right.” Leo’s lips curve in a warm, confident smile that makes the hopeless romantic in me positive that everything will work out.

I remind myself that he doesn’t know about Gilbert or how complicated our connection would be going forward, but my heart refuses to listen.

As I start the story, my voice filling the now utterly silent room—nothing shuts people up like some hot, messy family drama—I feel at home in my skin for the first time since I left New York.

Leo is here.

Leo still loves me as much as I love him, and maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to make this work, no matter how many obstacles stand in our way.