Mom released her, and Lauren sighed happily. All her worries about coming home were about the boy next door, not her own family. A part of her wondered why she’d allowed herself to stay away for so long. Sure, her parents came to visit in the city, but being here, on her old stomping grounds, took her back to that place where she was a beloved daughter. Which was a wonderful place to be.
“You must be Foster,” Mom smiled easily as she looked up at Foster. She was barely five feet tall.
Foster nodded smartly and held out his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I can see where Lauren gets her good looks.”
Mom smacked his hand away and hugged him tightly. “You’re too sweet. Come on in and drop your things off. We have neighbor gifts to deliver.”
Lauren’s spirits lifted. Delivering neighbor gifts on Christmas morning was one of her favorite traditions. “What did you make this year?”
“Orange rolls,” Mom called over her shoulder as she went back inside. Her feet crunched the ice melt Dad must have spread on the walkway earlier.
In the entryway, the wagon, loaded with foil pans full of her famous orange rolls, made it difficult to reach the coat rack. “Sorry.” Mom grabbed the handle and pushed it out the door. She brushed off her palms. “It’ll be fine out there for a few minutes. Foster, you can drop that fancy bag right here.” She pointed to the bench.
Foster put a protective arm across the leather laptop bag. His face pinched. “I’m afraid I need to check in with the office.”
“On Christmas?” Mom’s hand splayed across her chest. If she’d been wearing pearls, she would have clutched them.
Foster had the decency to appear chagrinned.
Lauren jumped to his rescue. “He was lucky to get the day off. Executive life and all that.” She gave him an encouraging smile. One day, when he was a full executive instead of a junior one, he’d have three full weeks of vacation. One of their favorite pastimes was planning all the trips they would take together when that happened. He wanted to walk on white sands, and she wanted cobblestone streets.
“You can set up in the guest room.” Lauren turned to her mother. “Is that okay?”
Mom’s forehead wrinkled as she looked back and forth between the two of them. “I thought we were all spending Christmas together.”
“We are. I’ll even pull the wagon.” Lauren tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Foster will join us as soon as he’s done.”
Foster nodded. “I’m looking forward to sampling some of that delicious smell.” He sniffed the air. “Is that turkey?”
Mom nodded, though she seemed distracted. “You’d better give him the Wi-Fi password, too.”
Lauren kissed her Mom’s cheek. “You’re the best. I’ll be right back.”
She hurried through the house and pushed open the door to the guest room. It was just as she remembered, with the pine-pole bed that belonged in a cabin and the bear-themed bedspread that belonged in the 1990s.
Foster put his bag on the pine dresser and noted the overstuffed brown chair. “This should work out well.”
Lauren opened the blinds. “There’s lots of natural light, and if you need anything, help yourself. We’re pretty casual around here.”
His nose wrinkle said that he’d noticed. Being the gentleman, he didn’t put his thoughts into words. He rested his hands on her sides. “Don’t be long?” Leaning in, he nibbled her ear. “I miss you already.”
She kissed his neck. “I’ll be fast.”
His hands fell, and he stepped away. His focus moved to his laptop and getting situated. Lauren let herself out of the room and shut the door behind her. It wasn’t like he hadn’t made a tremendous sacrifice to be here. Holding up to answer emails would clear his mind for the rest of the day. Understanding the part of him that pushed him to succeed was what made her the perfect girlfriend–or so he’d told her on several occasions, usually after he’d broken their plans to stay late in the office.
No doubt, Mom had already filled Dad in on the fact that Foster was staying behind. Those two never kept a secret from each other. Which was sweet and something to aspire to.
Lauren stopped at the bathroom in the hallway to check her hair and reapply her lipstick. Her parents had painted the cabinets a nice, creamy white color and bought a new sink. A rustic ladder served as a towel rack, and there was a basket of rolled hand towels on the shelf.
She checked her reflection. Her black hair, inherited from her second-generation Chinese-American mother, hung in waves. This morning, she’d had tight curls. It didn’t matter how long she left the heat on her hair; it couldn’t keep a curl to save her life. She’d have to pull out her curling iron before lunch and refresh her look.
Her lips had a natural pink hue, but she’d taken to wearing a darker color in the city and quickly applied a fresh coat.
Jacob wouldn’t recognize her.
She startled, concerned about how often her thoughts had gone to him, and she’d only been home fifteen minutes.
She shoved her lipstick into her pocket. Just because she was home for the first time since he’d broken her heart didn’t mean she had to give him so much as the time of day. In fact, if she ran into him today, she’d be the one who didn’t recognize him.
