I try to avoid her eyes, but I can’t. She’s like a creepy painting, tracking my every movement as she munches. “It’s spooky how well you can read me,” I mutter, grabbing a mini bruschetta and taking a bite.
“I can read everyone. It’s a talent. It’s why I’m so good at my job.”
Hazel also works at Copper Hill Construction, focusing on media relations. As soon as the DIY Network caught wind of some projects CHC had done, they reached out, trying to book them for shows. The old CEO broughtHazel on board to handle the calls and negotiate deals with television executives. She told me they tried to pay the team in materials and “exposure” exactly one time before they learned not to come to her with that kind of bullshit offer.
“You’ll tell him on Friday that you love him, right?” she pushes again. “Ooh, wait, maybe you can do it on Christmas morning. That would be romantic.” Her eyes mist over a minute before she points an accusing finger at me. “You’ve been living together for six months. You need to suck it up and tell him.”
Would I love to tell him under the twinkling Christmas lights, with a fire roaring as we sip mugs of peppermint hot chocolate? Absolutely. But…
“What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if I tell him I have feelings for him and it freaks him out, he rejects me, and now I’ve lost my best friend and my place to live?” I recognize that I’m spiraling a little, but I can’t help it.
I’d rather have a life where my love goes unrequited than tell him the truth and lose him.
“If he doesn’t feel the same, I will buy you a house to live in, that’s how sure I am that you two are meant to be together.” She takes a sip of her mimosa and flips her hair over her shoulder. “Seriously, I mean it. Everyone in town knows it.”
She’s the second person to say that. This town is full of gossips. It’s the worst part about living in a small town.
“No, they don’t,” I mumble, shoving a piece of flatbread in my mouth.
Hazel, finally realizing that she won’t get me to agree to anything, takes pity on me and changes the subject. “I was talking with Mitch the other day about the building off of Main Street they’re working on right now,” she says, dropping her voice to a whisper.
Mitch is Felix’s CEO and Hazel’s close friend. I’ve methim a couple of times in passing at the coffee shop. He’s handsome, and people in the town fall over themselves to get on his good side.
“It’s going to be an art gallery.”
“An art gallery? Is there even a demand for one here?”
“Apparently, the curator is from New York City and was insistent on setting up in Copper Hill. Mitchell has no idea why, but he thinks it will not only draw in a higher-end crowd from Syracuse but also increase weekend visits from the city, too. He’s also going to break ground on a bed-and-breakfast as soon as the ground thaws.”
I love Copper Hill. It’s close enough to larger areas that we can get what we need without being too inconvenienced, but small enough that we don’t have to deal with excessive traffic or overcrowding. We have a genuine sense of community here, with everyone helping one another in times of need. I was honestly surprised they accepted me into their midst so quickly when I moved here, but that’s probably because Felix grew up here.
With urban sprawl, there is no way we can stay small and insular forever, but I’ll be sad when things change here.
“I wonder why the curator insisted on coming here.” I grab a grape leaf and take a tentative bite. I find stuffed grape leaves to be either amazing or awful. There is no in between.
This one is the former.
“Who knows? But I’m excited. The networks are going to have a fit over being able to source the art from here.”
As lunch progresses, my mind keeps pulling back to Felix and what I should get him for Christmas. I know what he likes, but getting him a present doesn’t feel like enough.
Part of me wonders if Sylvia and Hazel are right. Perhaps I should be honest about how I feel. The other, louder part of me, though, is terrified.
How do I tell my best friend that I have loved him for years?
I don’t consider myself brave. I’ve played it safe my whole life.
Do people ever change? Can I become someone who takes a risk like this?
Can I leap without a safety net into Felix’s arms?
TEN
SIX DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS
“Are you ready?”Felix shouts from the living room. “We need to leave in ten.”
“Just a minute!” I turn from side to side in the mirror. The rich, forest-green velvet dress falls to the floor, with a slit up the left side that requires me to wear nude, fleece-lined tights since it’s freezing out and I am not one to suffer for fashion. The dress clings to my body, and my ass looks fantastic in it.
