Probably.
The words hit me with uncomfortable accuracy. Because I did know the difference, at least intellectually. Declan had been nothing but respectful, kind, and genuinely interested in what I had to say. He’d never made me feel like I should be grateful for his attention or like I needed to earn his interest through usefulness.
But knowing something intellectually and trusting it emotionally were apparently two different things.
“But what if he’s just nostalgic?” I asked. “What if he’s just trying to recapture some old fantasy while he figures out his life?”
“What if he’s not?” Mrs. Hall countered gently. “What if he’s a good man who sees how wonderful you are and wants to be part of your life?”
The possibility that Declan’s interest was genuine, that his kindness wasn’t calculated, that his attraction to me was real rather than convenient—it was both hopeful and terrifying in ways I wasn’t sure I was ready to handle.
“Holly,” Sandra said quietly, “you’re allowed to be happy. You’re allowed to trust someone who treats you well. You’re allowed to believe that you deserve good things.”
“I know I deserve good things,” I said, which was mostly true. “I just don’t know if I’m good at recognizing them when they happen.”
“Then maybe start with this,” Sandra said practically. “That man spent his evening hanging mistletoe in a snowstorm and kissed you like you were the only woman in the world. If that’s not good treatment, I don’t know what is.”
She was right. Declan had been consistently kind, helpful, and genuinely interested in my thoughts and feelings. He’dnever made me feel like I was too much or not enough, never suggested I should be grateful for his attention or that I needed to change anything about myself to be worthy of his interest.
“Plus,” Mrs. Patterson added with obvious satisfaction, “you two have enough chemistry to power the Christmas lights. Sometimes physical attraction is just the universe’s way of pointing you toward someone worth paying attention to. It’s the same with Mr. Patterson and me. He knows how to light my fire,” she said dreamily.
Eww.
I did not need that thought slamming into my brain right now.
But she’s not wrong about the chemistry. We definitely had chemistry, and not just the almost-kiss moments in storage rooms and basement. There was something electric about being near Declan, something that made me feel more alive and confident and interesting than I’d felt in months.
“The question is,” Mrs. Hall said gently, “what are you going to do about it?”
What was I going to do about it? I could keep retreating behind my walls, pretending that our public kiss hadn’t changed anything between us. I could let fear of making another mistake keep me from exploring what might be the best thing to happen to me in years.
Or I could be brave enough to trust my own judgment, to believe that I was smart enough to tell the difference between someone who wanted to use me and someone who genuinely cared about me.
“I’m going to stop hiding in the bathroom,” I said finally, smoothing down my red dress and checking my reflection in the mirror. “And I’m going to figure out if Declan Hayes is as wonderful as he seems or if I’m just really bad at reading people.”
“Smart girl,” Mrs. Patterson said approvingly. “Though, for what it’s worth, his parents raised a wonderful man. He’s exactly as lovely as he seems.”
“Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath and checking my lipstick one more time. “I’m going back out there.”
“Good,” Mrs. Hall said with satisfaction. “And Holly? That young man is still standing exactly where you left him, watching the bathroom door like he’s hoping you’ll come back soon.”
The information sent a flutter of something warm and hopeful through my chest, because waiting for someone was the kind of thing you did when you cared about them, not when you were just being polite or looking for convenient holiday romance.
Right?
As I walked back into the winter wonderland of the community center, I realized I had a choice to make. I could let Derek’s betrayal dictate how I approached every future relationship, or I could trust that I was smart enough and strong enough to recognize genuine kindness when I encountered it.
Declan was indeed standing exactly where I’d left him, and when he saw me approaching, his face lit up with relief and something that looked remarkably like genuine affection.
Maybe Mrs. Patterson was right. Maybe some feelings didn’t disappear just because you grew up and moved away. And maybe some people really were as wonderful as they seemed, especially when they spent winter evenings solving heating crises and hanging mistletoe in snowstorms just to make community festivals successful.
The festival was close, but suddenly, that felt like plenty of time to figure out if Declan Hayes was worth risking my carefully protected heart for.
Especially when he was looking at me like I really had hung the moon, red dress and all.
Nineteen
DECLAN
