“Wait, let me get this out. I know this is my last chance with you, and I’ve got to take my shot.”
Darby folded her arms across her chest, not because of the cold but for protection. Could she do this? Could she admit how she was feeling? “Go ahead.” She nodded.
“Like I told you at dinner, my parents disapproved of me marrying a white woman. My mom tried to set me up countless times. I would be a very rich man if I had a dollar for every uncomfortable, awkward dinner I sat through.” He let out a sad laugh. “I digress, though. At some point, my mom, especially, realized how unhappy I was. She eventually apologized. When she was dying, we had a heart-to-heart, and she made me promise, swear that I would come to find you. She knew that you were the love of my life, and she had kept us apart.” He paused and cleared his throat. “My father and I never had a chance at a moment of understanding and reconciliation like that, but that conversation with my mother changed everything. I didn’trealize how even as a grown adult, I was still seeking her—their—approval at some level. It took that moment for me to fully release myself from that. I’m not proud that it took me so long.”
They moved to the side to let horseback riders pass around them. “On the day she died, I swore to my mother that I would come and find you. I promised her I would give love a shot. I knew then about Jim. It’s not like I was following your every move for decades. Every once in a while, I would hear updates from mutual friends. That’s how I heard about Jim. I wanted to send you a note. I considered coming to the funeral, but it felt wrong. I knew you were grieving, and I wanted to honor that. I didn’t want you to think I was seizing the opportunity after your husband died. I would never do that. That was before my mom died, by the way.”
Darby held her breath as she waited for him to say more. He sounded sincere. His eyes were filled with emotion, a pleading, a wanting, a needing that she realized she felt just as deeply.
“This position came up six months after Mom died.” Samesh’s voice caught. “A friend sent me the posting. I applied immediately. I came up to interview and almost reached out then, too, but the timing still felt wrong. I wish I could explain it. I can’t. I just had the sense that you weren’t ready. I guess I was hoping that if I got the job, which I did, things would happen naturally. That we would bump into one another when the timing was right and see where things went from there. I wasn’t stalking you. I was giving you space. I’m sure it doesn’t seem like that from the outside. I don’t know how it could. I would be upset and perhaps a little unsure if I were you, but honestly, the move here was ultimately for me. I wanted to give myself time to reacclimate to Bend, get settled, and see if the job would be a long-term fit before I reached out. And then fate intervened. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you at the park on the night of the kick-off party. I took it as a sign that you wereready. That I was ready. I should have been honest upfront. It happened so fast. I had pictured and imagined how meeting up with you again would go, and then suddenly, you were standing there, and I guess I got caught up in the moment and the pure joy of seeing you again. All the feelings that I’ve had for you are still here. I thought maybe I was making it up to be more in my head than it really was. I thought when I saw you again, maybe there wouldn’t be a spark, but there was. Darby, you are more beautiful and wonderful than the first day I met you in a snowstorm, hanging on to an umbrella for dear life. I’m sorry that I’ve ruined our second chance. If you feel even the tiniest bit the same, I’m standing here in a snowy park on a festive holiday night, asking you to consider giving us a third chance.”
Darby sucked in the cold air, blood rushing to her head. She felt like she might pass out. He stood in front of her with confidence, maintaining eye contact without pleading. “Samesh, it’s just a lot, a lot to take in.”
“I understand.” He motioned to his colleague to give him a minute. “I’m glad I got a chance to tell you how I feel and what transpired. Thank you for listening.”
There was so much more she wanted to say, but she needed time to think, so she simply nodded and stepped out of the way of Santa’s majestic reindeer-drawn sleigh.
“I should let you go and get back to work,” Samesh said. “But how about this? I’ll be at the Snowball Dance on Saturday night. If you’re willing to give our friendship a go, come find me at the dance, and if not, I promise I won’t be in touch again. I’ll let you live your life and let you go for good.”
He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. “Regardless of what you choose, Darby, you are absolutely wonderful. Never forget that.”
He pulled away and left to help his colleagues.
Darby watched him for a minute before leaving. She felt like she was in a movie. Never in her life had someone ever professed their love so romantically. It was like a fairy-tale ending—meeting at the Snowball Dance and rekindling a first love.
But was she ready?
Could she love again, or was she swept up in the narrative he was crafting?
Romantic gestures, flowers, chocolates, and dances were great entertainment. Still, love had meant lazy nights curled up on the couch in Jim’s arms, figuring out how to compromise in arguments over whose turn it was to do the laundry or take out the trash. Love was caring for your partner at their worst. It wasn’t always dazzling and showy like the flashing lights on the floats. It was often subtle and subdued. It was making soup on a Sunday night when your spouse had a nasty cold, or carrying their backpack when their legs got heavy on the trail.
Samesh had held her on a pedestal ever since college. He had never gone on to find someone else—that concerned Darby. As much as she felt drawn to him, what if their visions of love didn’t line up? She was certain that she would quickly fall off the pedestal he had placed her on when he learned that love took work. Hard work.
FORTY-FOUR
HILARY
Ben finally texted her back. He agreed to meet at their favorite tapas restaurant for dinner, drinks, and talk. Hilary had wanted to have dinner at home, but maybe meeting on neutral territory was a good starting point.
She went home to shower and change before dinner. It had been a long day of meetings and preparations for the Snowball Dance. The press coverage for the Starlight Parade had been phenomenal. Bigger media outlets from Portland sent reporters to cover the story. She hoped garnering such great press and community goodwill would get her back in the mayor’s good graces. Instead, he sent staff members to her offices for a full report on team updates for the hunt.
Hilary had no idea why he was obsessed with the idea that large-scale cheating was happening, but it was evident that he wouldn’t drop the issue. Her only option was to continue to try and appease him. She had tasked her staff with compiling twice-daily reports to share with the mayor. It seemed like a waste of time and resources to her, but if that were what it would take to appease him, she would do it through the very last event—the Snowball Dance. The dance was in two days, so as long as she could keep the mayor from convincing the other businessmembers of the Chamber of Commerce to shut Passport to the Holidays down from now until then, she could close out the year on a good note and enjoy the rest of the holiday season with Ben and the twins.
That was if she and Ben could patch things up.
Hilary was fine faking it to preserve their family holiday traditions. However, she knew they were past the point of no return. Ben had called Bella. They couldn’t simply put on smiles and matching Christmas pajamas and pretend everything was great.
The thought made her cheeks flame again. Why? Why had he called Bella?
She tried to recenter herself as she towel-dried her hair and put on her favorite fleece ski dress. Why did she feel nervous? Like this was a date?
She studied her appearance after blow-drying her hair and using her flat iron to give it a soft curl. She didn’t feel her age. Looking in the mirror, she saw a bright face staring back at her. Sure, there were wrinkles on her forehead and around her eyes, but she didn’t look middle-aged, did she?
Time had moved so quickly. Why hadn’t she enjoyed it more? She blinked back tears and grabbed a soft cashmere scarf and her car keys. She didn’t want to be late. She had to show Ben that she was committed to fixing this. Him walking out on her had shifted her paradigm. The twins were gone. Her days of motherhood were over. She couldn’t lose Ben, too.
She arrived at the restaurant and paused at the front door, taking in the low amber light inside. Her fingers curled around the handle, but she couldn’t bring herself to open the door. Her pulse fluttered underneath her skin. She drew in a deep breath, trying to steady herself.
It’s just dinner.
