My throat tightens.I set my mug down carefully, afraid I might drop it.“Mom...”
Mom must see something in my face because her expression shifts.She sits down across from me, reaching for my hand.“Is everything okay, sweetheart?You are happy, aren’t you?”
I fiddle with the Santa-shaped salt shaker in the center of the table, running my thumb over his ceramic beard.“Sometimes I have a hard time believing this is real.”The words come out carefully, each one measured.I can’t give away the truth of my relationship with Alexander, but I’m also so confused.
“What are you talking about?”
I look up, meeting her eyes.“I was with Chase for ten years.I believed in him.I loved him.I thought Iknewhim.”My voice is tense.“And then he turned around and cheated on me.With Amber, of all people.”
Mom’s grip on my hand tightens.
“I’m scared of trusting my heart to anyone,” I admit.“I know Alexander is wonderful.But I’m scared of getting hurt again.”And that part is true.Because his words from last night about making it real are haunting me.
Mom gets up, moving to the coffee maker.She pours me a fresh cup, adding cream and sugar the way I like, then sits back down.“When you fall in love,” she says gently, “you’re bound to get hurt.Because you make yourself vulnerable.But sometimes you have to get hurt to find the right person.”
“That’s a depressing thought.”
She smiles.“Think about it this way: if Chase had never revealed what he was doing, you would’ve wasted more years of your life with him.Years you can’t get back.And you would’ve never met somebody as amazing as Alexander.”
I hate that she’s right.
“But Alexander seems to be the kind of man who uses his actions to prove himself,” Mom continues.“Not just his words.Look at what he’s doing, Olivia.He’s here with you.In Silverbell Hollow.He dotes on you.He cares for your family.These aren’t small things.”
I think about Alexander going tree shopping with Dad, the way he’d surprised Dad with the rooftop display, the way he’d held me last night like I was the most important thing in his world.
‘Let’s make it real,’ he’d whispered against my skin.
“He’s showing you how important you are to him,” Mom says.“Men like Alexander prove their love through actions.You just need to open your eyes.”She pauses, studying my face.“I couldn’t find a better man for you, sweetheart, if I searched the whole world.Just because one man turned out to be a bad apple doesn’t mean the next one will be the same.”
She leans over and kisses my forehead, the gesture so motherly and familiar that tears prick my eyes.“Be happy,” she murmurs.“You’ve got a gem of a man.”
I hug her, breathing in her familiar lavender perfume.“You’re right.Thank you.”
“I usually am.”She pats my back.“Now, eat some pancakes before they get cold.”
I finish my breakfast, the sweet maple syrup and fluffy pancakes settling warmly in my stomach.When I’m done, I stand and stretch.
“I think I’m going to walk into town,” I say, grabbing my coat from the hook by the door.“I need to pick up some gifts for my friends in the city.And I want to see Avery.”
Mom’s eyes light up.“That sounds lovely.Tell her I say hello.”
“I will.”
I bundle up—coat, scarf, gloves—and step outside into the cold.The sky is still overcast, but there’s a brightness to it now, the sun trying to break through.It’s probably close to nine-thirty by the time I start the walk into town, my boots crunching through the fresh snow on the sidewalk.
Main Street is already busy with holiday shoppers.Garlands are draped between the old-fashioned lampposts, and every storefront window is decorated with twinkling lights and festive displays.“Jingle Bell Rock” plays from speakers somewhere, and I find myself humming along.
I make my way to Avery’s bookshop, pushing open the door with a cheerful jingle of bells.
“Olivia!”Avery looks up from behind the counter, her face breaking into a wide grin.She’s wearing a caramel sweater and has her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun.“You came!”
“Of course I did.”I cross to the counter and lean against it.“I told you I would.”
Mr.Darcy and Elizabeth, the two cats she’s had since she opened the bookstore, are sprawled across a stack of books near the register, looking thoroughly unimpressed by my arrival.
“How are my favorite literary cats?”I reach over to scratch Darcy behind the ears, and he purrs lazily.
“Spoiled rotten, as usual,” Avery laughs, then her expression softens.“I’m really glad you’re here.”
