Lauren stared at the box resting in her palm. This was the most passive-aggressive behavior she’d ever seen. “But… I swear you proposed to me last night in front of the whole town.”
Foster’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m not sure how that would have been possible. You must have had a dream.”
Lauren touched her temple as she combed through her memories. It all seemed so real. The smell of the fires, the heat on her cheeks as Foster pulled her on stage. She could even remember Santa’s blue eyes.
Mom handed Foster a plate and began piling it high with pancakes and bacon she’d kept warm in the oven. “You have to try my homemade syrup. It’s a Christmas tradition around here.”
“It couldn’t have been a dream,” Lauren insisted.
Foster and mom stopped to stare at her. They’d moved on from the conversation, but she was stuck there like an icicle on the roof.
“What day is it?” she asked the two of them, speaking slowly and deliberately.
“It’s Christmas,” said mom at the same time Foster said, “December 25th.”
Lauren collapsed onto the bar stool. “I’m losing my mind.”
In the background of her declaration, Mom explained the intricacies of making homemade syrup to Foster, who hummed here and there to make it seem like he was paying attention. He did the same thing when she went about her latest personal organizer division design.
She wrapped her brain around the idea that her subconscious had made the public proposal. It could have. Being proposed to in front of her hometown on the night of her triumphant return–in front of the boy who broke her heart–was a fantasy come true.
She looked down at her hand, which curled around the ring box. The ends of her fingers turned white; she squeezed the box so hard.
If that was what happened, and today was Christmas Day, then Foster had asked her to marry him by saying that there was no sense making a big deal about it.
A big old: excuse me? built up inside of her. No sense making a big deal…? Why in the world not? If there was anything worth making a big deal about, it was getting engaged!
She squeezed her eyes shut tightly. Not to mention, he assumed her answer was yes. Why would he assume that if he hadn’t already asked her?
None of this made any sense.
“Goodness, look at the time.” Mom quickly untied her apron and unplugged the electric skillet. “We need to deliver the neighbor's gifts.”
Lauren got to her feet in a daze. “They always love your orange rolls.”
Mom stopped and looked at her. “Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you should stay here and rest.”
“I have work that needs to get done.” Foster set his empty plate in the sink. “Are you sure you don’t mind if we stay behind?”
Lauren whipped her head around and stared at him. “We aren't here to work. It’s Christmas.”
A sense of déjà vu overwhelmed her. They’d had this same argument yesterday… Or in her dream…
“I promise, I’m all yours tonight.” He kissed her cheek and then disappeared down the hallway shutting the door to the guest bedroom firmly behind him.
Lauren's mouth fell open.
“Are you gonna wear that ring?” Mom nudged her.
“It's too big,” Lauren replied absently. “I’ll go change. Don’t leave without me.”
There was so much the same about today and her dream that she had difficulty differentiating between reality and her imagination. She needed to get out of the house and breathe some fresh air.
At the last second, she changed from her cute Peter Pan boots to sturdy snow boots that were ugly as sin but wouldn’t pinch her toes. She'd learned from it, even if it was a dream, so there was that. She also put on the ring, feeling like she should wear it.
She trailed behind her parents, dragging the wagon full of orange rolls as she watched the neighborhood as if it was on repeat. The same kids burst from their house with a sled. The Johnsons said the same thank yous for the orange rolls. They approached the civic center, and Lauren handed the wagon off to her dad. “Here.”
“Where are you going?” Dad asked.
