At least half the town was there for the tree lighting. It was a clear, cold night, perfect weather to start the Christmas celebrations. The band leader signaled that the countdown should begin.
The crowd joined in. “Ten…nine…eight…”
At “one,” the tree lit up, like magic, with colorful lights from bottom to top. Everyone oohed and aahed and clapped.
Bellini tilted her head back to look at Logan, and he winked down at her. Now, finally, he was glad he’d come to the tree lighting. He knew he should protect himself, not see her, not think about her, but it was impossible.
The carols were sung. Colt teared up at “Silent Night” and insisted he was still a manly man. Beck sang all the songs off tune, loudly, which had Logan and Colt almost crying with laughter. As soon as they recovered, Beck belted out another song, sounding like a cross between a sick frog and a donkey.
Bellini, Jaxi, Collins, and Helena laughed, too. They could hardly sing they were cackling so hard. Beck always did this to them.
The star at the top of the tree twinkled. Some said later they’d never seen that star so bright.
Logan thought his heart was growing a couple of sizes, like the Grinch’s.
11
Bellini
I could hardly sleep that night.
I thought of Logan smiling down at me at the tree lighting.
I thought of how I’d felt smiling up at him.
He winked at me!
We’d chatted, light and fun, a little flirty, cheerful, and open. I hardly remembered what we said, because it didn’t matter. Being near him mattered.
I thought of how he used to sneak up to my bedroom late at night when we were teenagers. We would talk, sometimes play chess, and get naked.
His smile warmed me up. That’s what it did. It warmed me up with love.
I reminded myself that I was leaving once my mother was well.
I reminded myself of what Logan would lose if we were together again. I thought about that. How it would crush him, decimate him. The warmth of Logan’s smile, the solidity of him standing next to me protectively in the town square, the joy I felt simply being with him crashed and burned.
A star fell, streaking through the night.
Dead.
The star was dead.
I could not be with Logan again.
12
Logan
Logan could hardly sleep that night.
He couldn’t get Bellini’s smile out of his mind. He knew her so well. He knew how well she could relate to children because of the books she wrote. He knew how she always wished she’d had a dad. He knew how she thought when playing chess, but not how to stop her. He knew how she loved to make art, how she couldn’t live without her drawings and stories. He knew how she skied cautiously but ran fast and how much she cared about other people, especially her family and friends. He knew that she liked white chocolate and popcorn and cheese sandwiches.
His home situation when he was a kid, and as a teenager, had often brought her to tears. She would get that upsetforhim, and it would trigger her temper. She would be boiling with anger, an arrow of disgust pointed straight at his dad. Having her emphatically declare that he had every reason to be angry at his dad was so…validating. She believed him. She was on his side, always. When they were together, she always made him feel loved and important—and special.
At the Christmas tree lighting, they’d talked. They’d slipped right back into their old conversational patterns. He joked, she laughed. She understood his humor, he understood hers. It was happy, flirty, normal for them. He’d loved it.
He saw a falling star. He felt like he was falling.
