He’d thought it was a childish wish on her part–like asking for a pony or something else out of reach.
Maybe he should ask her instead of assuming. He probably should have done that before, insisting that Charlotte give up everything she’s ever planned, hoped, and wished for her whole life.
“You look like you’re not feeling well.” Michelle dabbed his forehead in a motherly way. “No fever,” she mumbled.
“I’m fine. Well, except for a case of massive confusion,” he replied. And guilt. Lots of that going around this holiday.
Michelle batted his comment away. “My husband had that on the regular.” Her eyes took on a knowing gleam. “But he usually came through all right.”
He wasn’t so sure he could do the same. Under all of this was a bigger question he had to answer before he could grovel his way back into Charlotte’s good graces. “How did you balance being married and being a parent?”
“You act like they’re two opposing forces.” She bumped her fists together. “Try thinking in terms of partnership and see where that gets you.” She winked, put her hands on the shopping cart handle, and bustled down the aisle.
Micah had to look at the list on his phone and backtrack twice to get what he needed before he stood in a checkout line five carts deep. The whole time he waited, his thoughts spun like floss. Partners.
What if–at that moment, he learned Charlotte and Lizzie wished for the same house–he’d worked to find a way for both wishes? He could think of one way that would come about–but Charlotte wasn’t speaking to him, much less inclined to marry him and move into the house on the corner together.
He frowned. He was something of a DIY-er himself. Growing up with a single mother, he and Jonah learned to do a lot of household repairs. He liked working with his hands. It was outside the skill set needed for his profession and recharged his creative batteries.
After checking out and fighting the shopping cart through the snow-covered parking lot, he picked up Lizzie. For the first twenty minutes they were together, he listened to her recap every detail of her playdate. She and Jenny built a fort in the living room with couch cushions and a bedsheet. They’d pretended they were camping and that a bear was eating their food.
When she’d talked herself out–for the moment–he brought up her wish. “Why did you wish for the house?”
She looked startled–as if the answer should have been evident to him. “Because we don’t have one.”
“But why that one? Why not some other house?” he pressed, needing to get to the bottom of this.
She lifted a shoulder. “People live in all the other houses. I don’t want to make someone leave.”
His heart sank. That was it? She didn’t care what house as long as it didn’t displace a family. The last of his excuses for behaving horribly melted like Frosty on a warm spring day. He was in the wrong. One-hundred percent and totally in the wrong.
He owed Charlotte an apology.
“That’s sweet of you.” He kissed Lizzie’s forehead and told her to wash her hands for dinner.
He could kick himself. If Lizzie knew her wish was in the way of Charlotte’s, she’d change it. Her heart was that big.
And his was broken, not by Charlotte or Lizzie–by his actions that cost him the woman of his dreams. She must think the worst of him. Flying off the handle like that. Not prioritizing her feelings and calling her selfish.
The more sins he listed, the bigger the hole he realized he’d dug for himself.
He thought about making a new Christmas wish but didn’t dare. What if his wish made things worse for everyone? After this mess, he vowed never to make a Christmas wish again.
Mere mortals like him shouldn’t mess with Christmas Magic. He’d leave that up to Charlotte and Lizzie and the special people in the world who got to be a part of all that.
And him? He’d forget about it all, and if he were lucky, avoid Charlotte and the reminder that he could have held her for a lifetime.
Bitter didn’t begin to describe the pill he swallowed.
ChapterSeventeen
Christmas Eve at any store was busy. At The Christmas Shop, it was absolutely insane. Charlotte welcomed every last-minute return and every challenge to find the right gift, decoration, or centerpiece. She threw herself into creating new pieces from the bits and bobs left on the shelves–selling the one-of-a-kind items at premium prices.
The hustle and bustle should have filled her like a runner’s high. Instead, she was as flat as a stocking waiting for Santa.
The clock never ticked so slowly–and that was saying something for the holiday. Not even the sun going down encouraged her, as it was just late afternoon. Dinner tasted like sandpaper, and she shoved it back into the mini-fridge.
Everyone around her moved at a faster pace, and she was stuck in slow motion. If only there were a switch she could flip to get her up to speed or recharge her heart. Because that was where the problem started and ended. The poor thing had been through it this Christmas.
