And that’s how I ended my night, curled up on my parents’ spare mattress, bawling my eyes out to a holiday movie. I ugly cried, but for the first time since leaving the city, I didn’t think about Connor or my marriage. I just lived inside the story of the movie, and it felt good.
The next morning, I stood in front of the town hall, where tables lined either side of the walkway. It was the annual gingerbread house decorating competition, and they had hired me to photograph it. Marla, my mom’s best friend and the town’s lead gossiper, ran the event. She waved me over. “Laney, it’s so good to see you!”
“Hi, Marla,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t bring up Connor. My mom promised she wouldn’t but, let’s be real, Marla loves drama. “Great turnout this year.”
“I had to rush order more materials since we had a few last-minute sign-ups.” Marla placed her hands on her hips with a wide smile on her face. “I’d love you to get a shot of every pair decorating, action shots, then a posed photo at the end. Is that doable?”
“Absolutely.” I held up my camera and forced a smile. “I’ll get started now.”
“Thanks, doll. And hey,” she said, her smile faltering. “You look good. Glad you’re home.”
Those words seemed to hold more weight than a casual greeting, and my eyes prickled as she gave me a half hug. Marla didn’t say more though. She took off toward the welcome tent, which was all green and red and decked out with twinkle lights. I adjusted my scarf because the chill was getting to me, and I walked the grounds.
There were at least fifty tables of people working on gingerbread houses. I’d participated in the competition quite a few times with my mom, my dad, and my friends. Never with Connor though. We never came back to Cherrywood this early in the month because he was always too busy with work.
I still couldn’t believe he was staying next door to my parents’ house.
I snapped a few photos of a group of young kids running around a large candy cane sculpture, their laughter wild and free.Click.The photo was perfect. If I had to create a postcard of this town, I’d use this shot. A tall Christmas tree in the back, kids smiling, town square off to the right… It showcased how special and happy this place was.
I continued to capture the contestants, grinning at an older couple who were bickering about what color gumdrops to use, when a familiar voice said my name.
“Laney Whitfield, is that you?”
No way. I turned to find my high school sweetheart standingbefore me in a bright green coat and yellow pants. “Matt, are you dressed like Buddy the Elf?”
“Laney, you shouldn’t have to ask that. Yes, of course I am.” He rolled his eyes and moved closer. “Get in here. It’s been too long.”
Matt pulled me into a bear hug, his specialty back in the day, and I returned the gesture. Age had been kind to him. He still had the mischievous look that was always on his face back in high school, and it was clear he was happy. His face had so many laugh lines.
“You look amazing. Damn, and you smell the same.”
I chuckled. “I was gonna say the same thing. Lacoste cologne still?”
“You know it.” He smiled so wide that it stretched across his face, then adjusted the green elf hat. He looked ridiculous, so I stepped back, snapping a photo of him.
“Uh, what was that? What are you doing?”
“I’m in town for the month and staying with my parents. Figured I’d get some work in and photograph Cherrywood events. The better question is why are you dressed like that?”
“Right. Fair question. You’ll never believe where I ended up.” He smiled and pointed to two tables that had a bunch of teenagers. “I’m teaching algebra at our high school and in charge of student council. Every year, we send students to this event. I lost a bet with the class so I had to dress up as Buddy. Wish I looked cooler if I knew I would run into you.”
Despite dating for three years, we had parted on good terms. I’d wanted to head to Illinois State for college, while he went to Iowa. We cried and hugged but mutually agreed to break up.
He looked adorable. “Matt, this is amazing. Good for you,”I said, a genuine happiness taking over. “I can totally see you as a teacher.”
He beamed with pride. “Do I know my shit? Yes. Do I know teenagers? Absolutely the heck not. Their buzzwords change all the time, andrizznow means charisma? If you’re dripping with rizz, then it’s a good thing. We should totally grab a drink and catch up. I promise I won’t wear this.”
He was still so much the same. I laughed, for real, and it was like my muscles relaxed for the first time in days. Matt was carefree, kind, no drama.
“It’d be great to grab a drink with you.”
“My number hasn’t changed. Not saying you still have it—don’t wanna assume or be weird. You got married, yeah?” His gaze dropped to my empty left hand, and he raised his brows. “Or maybe not?”
“That is a story to share over a drink. Maybe even two.”
“Deal. So is your number the same or…”
“Are you asking for my number, Matt Heathen?” I swore I needed this distraction. Seeing Matt brought me back to high school, back to memories and laughter. I loved my time in high school in this town. Cherrywood was special.
