Hunter’s expression softens, and he gives me a sympathetic grin. “Yeah, Heartbreaker. It’s over.”
A tear rolls down my cheek.
It’s over. It’sreallyover.
Now I can live a real life, and I know where I want to start.
With Hunter, Rory, and Luke.
CHAPTER 42
SAVANNAH
Families mill about with their children, sipping on hot cider and cocoa while they select a Christmas tree for their homes. The nursery is situated on the edge of the city, meaning less yelling and less honking.
This morning, while we were lying in bed, I said that it would be fun to celebrate the holidays. That’s all Rory Bishop needed to go all out.
We’ve been standing in front of one tree for a while as Hunter, Rory, and Luke debate if it’s the one to buy.
Turning to Rory, I tug on his sleeve. “There’s no way we’re going to do everything needed to get ready for Christmas in one day.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t try,” he returns.
I furrow my brows. “When I mentioned Christmas, I didn’t mean that I wanted to go all out.”
“Go big or go home, Savannah Foster,” Rory jests.
Luke steps back, assessing the evergreen. “I think we need a bigger tree.”
I sigh. “Couldn’t we just get a regular tree?”
“What’s exciting about a regular tree?” Rory questions. I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
“I’m going to go grab some cider for all of us. I have a feeling we’re going to be here a while.” Hunter walks off in the direction of the drinks.
“Excuse me, sir?” an older woman taps Luke on his arm. “I need some help.”
“I don’t work here, but I can help you find someone who does.” Luke offers her his hand, and she takes it graciously.
“What a kind young man you are,” she compliments.
“Want to keep looking?” I ask Rory.
Rory taps his finger on his chin. “You go ahead. I need to talk to Hunter.” He hands me a clear container of metal binder clips that look like they came from his office.
“What am I supposed to do with these?” I question, holding up the pad.
“Put them on the trees you like,” he explains as he shoos me away.
“How do I do that?”
“Clip them on.” Rory throws his hands up and stalks off. “Hunter! Let’s get three trees.”. Or five!”
“Three?”
“I change my mind. Five.”
Meandering down the aisles, the glow from the strings of lights to help me assess each tree. I don’t scrutinize as closely as the guys did, but it’s enough of an effort. I feel like Hansel and Gretel, leaving binder clips on trees as if they’re breadcrumbs.
