He was probably relieved I'd given him an out.
"You know," Mee-Maw said quietly, "when I was your age, I met your grandfather at a church social. We got caught in a rainstorm, waited it out in the gazebo at Silver Bell Lake." She piped careful lines on a star-shaped cookie. "We talked for hours. When the rain stopped, I convinced myself someone like your grandfather couldn't possibly be interested in the shy English teacher with her nose in a book."
I glanced up, surprised. She'd never told me this.
"I avoided him for a week. Nearly lost the best thing that ever happened to me because I was too scared to believe it could be real."
"But he came after you?"
"Eventually. After I'd made us both miserable." She set down her frosting bag and looked at me directly. "Don't make my mistake, sweetheart. If someone matters, you have to be brave enough to find out."
The words settled in my stomach like stones. But how could I be brave when my phone stayed silent? When he'd let me drive away this morning without trying to stop me?
"I should get ready," I said, my voice rough. "Need to shower and do my hair."
Mee-Maw squeezed my hand as I passed. "Whatever you're afraid of, it's worth facing. Trust me."
***
I stood in front of the mirror in my childhood bedroom—the same room I'd grown up in after my parents died, the same faded wallpaper with tiny flowers, the same quilt Mee-Maw had made when I was ten.
The green velvet dress fit like it was made for me. Knee-length, fitted bodice with a modest neckline, three-quarter sleeves. I'd bought it on sale last year and never worn it, convinced it wastoo fancy, too much attention, too unlike the cardigans and long skirts I hid behind.
But when I studied my reflection now, I didn't see someone trying too hard. I saw a woman. Someone who'd spent a night learning what her body could feel, what pleasure meant, what it was like to be wanted.
Even if it had only been for one night.
I left my hair down, the honey-highlighted waves falling past my shoulders instead of twisted up with knitting needles. Applied mascara and lip gloss. The velvet was soft under my palms as I smoothed it over my hips, warm from my body heat. I could feel my pulse through the fabric.
Shep had looked at me like I was radiant. Like every curve was exactly right. And even if that had been heat-of-the-moment desire, even if it wouldn't happen again—I'd carry that feeling with me. The knowledge that I could be wanted like that.
Vixen sat on my old desk, grooming a paw with exaggerated dignity.
Not bad. You actually look confident. He'd be an idiot not to want more.
"Thanks," I muttered. "I think."
She meowed once—approval or sarcasm, hard to tell with cats.
Mee-Maw smiled when I came into the living room. "Lovely. You're lovely."
"It's not too much?"
"It's perfect." She handed me my coat. "Now let's get these cookies to church before Mrs. Henderson sends out a search party."
***
Mistletoe Ridge Community Church blazed with light against the dark winter evening. Every window glowed golden, thesteeple cross shining white against the sky. The parking lot was packed—the whole town turning out for Christmas Eve service.
Mee-Maw and I carried cookie trays through the side entrance to the fellowship hall. Red and green tablecloths covered long tables, garland hung around the room, and the scent of coffee brewing filled the air.
"Flannery!" Mrs. Henderson bustled over. "Oh good, Charlotte said you were bringing snickerdoodles. Put them right there, dear."
I set down my tray and helped Mee-Maw arrange cookies on serving platters. Around us, the room filled with familiar faces—Mrs. Yates and Mrs. Tucker by the punch bowl, the Millers trying to corral Jayden and his little sister, Pastor Bright testing the microphone.
My hands shook slightly as I arranged cookies. Shep would be here. With Dash. With his family. And I'd have to see him, maybe talk to him, figure out how to act like my heart wasn't breaking.
"Ready?" Mee-Maw asked gently.
