She wasn’t the same woman who’d let herself be broken.
That was enough.
The rest she could untangle later.
CHAPTER 48
Tom
The craft roomwas littered with ghosts.
Tom sat on the floor, surrounded by his failed recreations of that night—the night she’d thrown him out.
The current half-finished square was another terrible attempt.
It looked like a child had tried to build Christmas out of scraps.
Which, he supposed, wasn’t far from the truth.
He’d been trying to capture the power that had poured out of her when she’d stood in that doorway, voice shaking, telling him to leave.
Lauren loved Christmas.Lovedit with her whole body, like it was oxygen. The lights, the garlands, the stupid mugs with reindeer on them. The carols that started too early and ran too long. The cookies shaped like stars.
He used to think that was tacky.
He hadn’t understood. He did now.
Christmas wasn’t a holiday to Lauren—it wasproof.Proof that love mattered. That family mattered.
And he’d ruined it.
He’d hurt her. He’d taken the thing she loved most—the thing that made herher—and made it shameful.
That’s why she’d taken it all down. The handmade ornaments, the garlands, the wreath she’d woven herself. She’d carried it all to the curb, setting it out for the garbage truck like it was nothing.
When it had beeneverything.
Tom rubbed a hand over his face. The roughness of his stubble scraped his palm.
He looked at the square of fabric.
It was awful.
He almost laughed, but it caught in his throat.
He’d built houses that could stand through storms, but he’d managed to collapse the one thing she’d loved most with a handful of words.
Cringe.
Too much.
Tom pressed his palms against his eyes. The light that bloomed behind his lids was red and sharp.
He’d ruined Christmas. The holiday that Lauren loved so much. The holiday that had always been so magical for her. The holiday she’d wanted to be magical for everyone.
He wanted to take it all back.
He wanted to see her Christmas again.
