She slides a copy of a book with a gold sticker that reads,Local Author,embellishing the cover. “What’s this?” I ask, turning the book over. I recognize the woman in the picture on the back from the tree lighting ceremony. “I met her,” I say, handing the book to Winsome.
“You don’t have to—”
“That’s Eden! Our local librarian,” Winsome interjects, scanning the book but putting it in a separate paper bag from the one with my things. I give her a knowing smile, tapping my card on the reader.
“You like reading?” I ask Krystal as I lead her out of the store and to our next destination.
“No…it’s for my friend Rae. That’s a signed copy, and she’ll love it as a gift. She’s always reading some murder mysterysomething. That one is a romantic suspense, sounds right up her alley,” she expounds.
“So, you plan on spending Christmas with Rae?” I ask.
She scoffs, then sighs. “I don’t know. I’ll give it to her the next time I see her.”
I unlock the door to the Bronco and open my palm so she can rest her hand in mine. She does, as if we’ve been doing this for years. “So after all this, you planned to go home on Christmas Eve and just…be alone?” I confirm, realizing I’m asking the same question over and over but hoping she’ll eventually see how ridiculous it sounds.
“I guess so.”
My heart drops as I pull her into the cafe across the street. The snow-covered awning makes it difficult to read the name of the business, but when we enter, the Sun Bean logo is plastered on every surface and item in the shop. The aroma of warm, blueberry muffins rises over the pastry display and floats right through me. I immediately join the line, ordering two with a cup of black coffee.
“I’ll have a pistachio croissant and a hot chocolate, please,” Krystal adds.
“Well, aren’t you two such a beautiful couple. How long you been married?”
“We’re—” Krystal begins.
“15 years,” I cut her short, throwing my arm around her shoulder and kissing her loudly on the top of her head.
“Just beautiful,” the older woman says, turning the tablet I’m supposed to pay on to face me. A smirk teases my mouth as I read the screen, she’s already selected the 10% tip option. Since she seems to be the only one here and this is a locally owned business, I go back and increase the tip to 18%.
As we stand to the side, waiting for Krys’ croissant to warm, she nudges me with her hip. Her lips spread in a wide smile. “Usbeing together for fifteen years would make you a pervert,” she says.
Hot coffee shoots through my nostrils as I choke on what she just said. “What?” I ask, repressing a laugh.
She sips her chocolate, her eyes pleased. “I was fifteen, fifteen years ago.”
I release my laughter, tempted to keep going when I see her face brighten. “Yeah, I guess so. Twenty-one and fifteen isn’t a good look,” I muse.
“Here y’all go,” the woman places our pastries on the counter.
I steal a look at her name tag. “Thanks, Collette,” I say.
We sit at one of the tables nestled against the frosty window. The snow is coming down heavily now, we might have to get back to the B&B sooner than I wanted. The ramen shop on the travel guide Gayle gave me sounded like the perfect dinner after exploring a bit more.
Krystal’s face is somber as she peels the flaky dessert apart. It puts it into more perspective now, why the way her last relationship ended bothers her so much. She said they’d been together for how long? Nearly ten years? At twenty, that must have been her first love. At thirty, I’m sure she envisioned her life being a certain way, the way society tells women it ought to look like.
“You’re quiet,” she says, flashing a look at me through her curly lashes.
“Just thinking,” I hum, popping a piece of the muffin into my mouth. My eyes fall closed as it melts, the perfect marriage of sweet and salty.
“What about?” She inquires, resting her head on her fist and watching me from an angle. My breath catches in my throat. Her beauty is unfathomable. She knows she looks good, but I don’t think she understands the magnitude of it, really, how arresting it is.
“You,” I say.
“You’re something else,” she says, hanging her head as if it would hide the way her skin flushed.
The wind picks up outside, whistling as it whips by. We both lock eyes, the same thought on our minds. “We should probably get back,” she suggests, straightening.
“Yup.” I pop the rest of the muffin in my mouth and drown it with the rest of the coffee. We rush to the SUV, forcing our coats to close tighter than they can.
