“Peyton.”
Dixie’s hand landed on my shoulder, firm, grounding, dragging me back into my body.Her blue eyes were sharp, assessing—the look she reserved for moments when she knew I was lying to myself.
“You’ve been quiet for twenty minutes,” she said.“That’s not festive silence.That’s distraction.”
I forced a smile, the kind that passed in boardrooms and cocktail hours.“I’m just tired.”
She arched a brow, unimpressed.“Try again.”
She’d known me too long for deflection.Too well for polite lies.
“What’s going on with you and Creed?”
We stopped near the fountain, the massive Christmas tree towering behind it, lights reflecting in the water like fractured stars.I tightened my grip on the shopping bags, the paper edges biting into my palms, as if pain might anchor me.
I exhaled slowly and sank onto the marble bench.
“Same pattern,” I said.“Different setting.”
Dixie waited.She always did.Let the quiet stretch until I filled it myself.
“And,” I added, lower, “I told him I loved him.Again.”
Her entire body stilled.“And?”
I nodded, throat tight.“He didn’t argue.Didn’t redirect.He just...looked at me.Like I’d said something he couldn’t unhear.And then he walked away.”I let out a short, humorless laugh.“Which seems to be his preferred response when things get real.”
Dixie reached for my hand, her grip firm, grounding.“Oh, Peyton.”
“I don’t know why I keep hoping that naming it will change anything,” I said, staring at the glittering water.“Like if I’m honest enough, patient enough, he’ll finally meet me where I am.”
“And finally make a decision,” she said quietly.
I nodded.
Her expression sharpened—not unkind, but clear.“That man isn’t confused about you,” Dixie said.“He’s conflicted about what you require.”
I looked at her.
“He knows what he feels,” she continued.“What he doesn’t know is whether he’s willing to show up for it.”
Something in my chest loosened.Or maybe it tightened into resolve.
“I’m tired,” I admitted.“Tired of being available while he decides if he’s ready.If he wants me, he has to choose me.Out loud.On purpose.I’m done chasing.”
Her lips curved, slow and approving.“Good.Because you were never meant to chase anyone.”
She always knew how to hold me together, even when I felt like I was unraveling.“Thanks,” I whispered.“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Dixie shrugged, but her eyes softened.“That’s what I’m here for.”Then she nudged me playfully.“Now, let’s get back to business.”
We finished shopping, laughter creeping back in where it could.It wasn’t joy—not fully—but it was movement.Forward.
Later, in the quiet of my garage, I slipped the bags into their hiding place among storage bins and tangled lights, careful not to leave evidence.The twins would sniff out their presents like bloodhounds if I weren’t careful.
I had just closed the bin when my phone buzzed.
My heart stuttered before my brain could catch up.
