He blinked. It actually sounded like a question this time, not the accusation she’d slung at him at the cabin.
“Because I thought we had something the other day. Before you ran out into the snow.” Arthur could feel the desperation in his smile. He knew she could see it, she always could. And yet he couldn’t stop. If he stopped, he didn’t know what terrifyingly honest expression would take over his face, but he didn’t want anyone to witness it.
“It had stopped snowing,” Emma said defensively. She shifted from foot to foot, obviously uncomfortable. But not yelling. Why wasn’t she yelling?
“We did have something,” Emma admitted in a rush, staring at her socked feet. “But you’re—you’re leaving. So let’s just stop whatever this is before one of us does something stupid.”
He’d never seen her this quiet when she was upset. It was eerie. It made him want to take her face and tilt it up, make her look at him. He dug his claws into his hands, forcing them to still.
“You really aren’t going to yell?” he asked hopefully.
She huffed. “I’m trying something new. I’m still mad, I’m just… I don’t know. I’m trying to be done with yelling. I’m trying to be done withthis.”
She waved between them. Then she added something he didn’t expect.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
She started closing the door.
Arthur panicked, shoving his wing in the way.
“I wanted you to come with me,” he tried. “I thought about you all the time. I tried not to, but I did. You can still come with me!”
Emma snorted, his old shirt falling off her shoulder and exposing her collarbone in a way that made him breathless.
“Right,” she said. “I’m going to be the next girl on your arm, huh? All prettied up and smiling, going to parties and red carpets and laughing at everyone’s jokes. That’s who I’m gonna be?”
“You can fake it,” he said. “It’s not that hard! I can teach you!”
Emma nudged his wing out of the way, so gently he was too dumbfounded to do anything but let her.
He grabbed the door. “Please! I need—nobody’s ever—please. You can trust me, I swear. I’ll never walk away from you again. I’ll never say you don’t matter—youdomatter, weweresomething. We were everything.”
Emma finally met his gaze. Her beautiful brown eyes were shining, goose bumps already rising on the exposed flesh of her shoulder. She sucked in a deep breath like he’d always told her to do when they were in high school, one bit of advice she had never followed. She’d always steamrollered ahead, not taking the time to pause and cool down before she started screaming.
Except now. She’d finally started doing it. It just took him breaking her heart for a second time.
“We had something good,” she said, her voice almost even. “And it ended. And that’s…fine. It’s fine! I’ve moved on. You’ve moved on. And now we go back to our lives.”
She paused and smiled at him, small and tremulous.
“I’m glad you came back to visit,” she admitted quietly. “Merry Christmas, Arthur.”
She closed the door. No slamming, no screaming. Just a softsnickof the lock clicking into place and the not-so-soft sound of Arthur trying to stop the heartbroken roar building in his throat.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Emma avoided the café during the last day of the shoot.
In her defense, she had shit to organize. Social media posts to queue up for the Instagram account Luna had insisted she start, which would tell everyone that normal business hours would resume the day after Christmas. Last-minute presents to buy for her employees. A tree to put up. And most importantly, a wrap party to emotionally prepare for.
Luna called her as she was wrapping presents. “Hey, Em! You still coming? Everything’s all set up at the inn, and it’s party time! Christmas Eve party and wrap party all in one!”
Emma propped the phone up on a roll of wrapping paper and went back to badly wrapping a mug she’d gotten for Hazel.
“I’ll be late,” she warned. “I have a call with my parents, and we’re putting up a tree.”
Luna cooed. “Aw! Cute! We love a family call at Christmas. How are you feeling?”
