“Mia—”
“I’m serious! He’s like a widower in a Victorian novel.” She widened her eyes dramatically. “‘Mia,’” she mimicked in Tom’s voice, “‘you wouldn’t understand. I’ve ruined everything.’ Jake says he’s been driving everyone insane with his tragic sighs at work.”
Lauren pressed her fingers to her temples. “Oh my God.”
Mia reached across the table and squeezed her hand.
“Lauren, we both know that our in-laws are snobs,” Mia said. “Jake knows that. And I think Tom is starting to see that now, too. The Christmas you gave us wasamazing.”
Lauren smiled faintly, staring at the swirling surface of her coffee. “I just love Christmas,” she said quietly.
The words were automatic. She had always loved Christmas.
Do I still?she thought. The question lodged somewhere deep, painful. Or had this Christmas ruined that too? Could she ever untangle the holiday from the humiliation, from that moment when everything cracked apart?
Mia was quiet for a moment. Then: "Can I tell you something?"
Lauren nodded.
"When Jake and I were first dating, I broke up with him."
Lauren blinked. She'd never heard this story.
“Three days later he rang my doorbell at six in the morning. Stood there looking like he hadn't slept in days." Mia's smile was fond. "And he said, 'If you give me another chance, you won't regret it. Not for the rest of your life.'"
Mia looked down at her own ring and her face went soft and kind of goofy.
Lauren's throat felt tight.
"I took him back,” Mia's smile turned genuine. “Obviously.”
Lauren nodded, not trusting her voice. She looked down at the table.
Mia’s hand brushed her wrist. “Whatever you decide, it’s okay,” she said quietly.
Lauren nodded again. Her thoughts were a tangle. She thought of theDIVORCED AFplaque drying on her worktable. Of Tom standing in the cold, eyes raw with regret. Of Judith and Richard Barrett’s perfect white hydrangeas and polite disdain.
Of those devastating words that changed her life:I can’t be married to someone like this, Lauren.
CHAPTER 36
Tom
He'd been scrollingthrough necklaces for the past twenty minutes. Delicate chains, heart pendants.
His thumb hovered over a listing. He could order one right now. Have it shipped overnight. It wasn’t enough.
Tom closed the browser and opened his photos instead.
Lauren.
In the kitchen, wearing that ridiculous apron with the reindeer on it. Flour smudged across her cheek, her smile wide and unselfconscious. He'd taken that one in early December, catching her mid-laugh.
He scrolled further.
Lauren at the dining table, surrounded by fabric and thread. The late afternoon sun streaming through the window, catching the dust motes floating around her like she was working in a cloud of gold. She hadn't known he was taking that photo—was completely absorbed in whatever she was creating, her expression peaceful and intent.
Lauren decorating the Christmas tree. She'd been standing on tiptoe, trying to reach a high branch, and he'd snapped the photo just as she'd turned to stick her tongue out at him for laughing instead of helping.
