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“Thanks for telling me that, Elena,” I say quietly.
She nods, studying me. “You know, I don’t know what’s going on between you and my son.” At my pained expression, she holds up her hands. “I’d rather not know all the juicy details.”
I let out a small laugh. “Fair.”
“But what I can tell you is that my boy has never looked at anyone the way he looks at you, Beth. It’s like you’re the wish he made on a Christmas tree star and you’ve come true right in front of him. He’s devoted to you, I’ll tell you that much. I hope you can work it out.”
“I want to,” I say quickly. “But . . .”
Elena stares me down, waiting for me to continue.
“But his career is a sore spot for me.”
“Because of the travel?”
“That. And the fame. My parents and everything.”
Elena nods slowly. “Here’s what I think. Gabe might have pushed himself into music initially to have a way to help me and the café stay afloat, but I believe he loves the life he’s built. He loves what he does. I don’t think he would have stayed in the business if he didn’t.”
I nod. I know she’s right there. Which makes it harder for me to believe that there’s a place for me in a life he already loves.
“I'm proud of what he does. Do I wish he were around here more? Of course. But I wouldn’t change him for anything.” Elena presses her hand against the table and stares me down. “If you can’t reconcile his musician lifestyle with what you want for yourself, then it’s time to let him go. But, if you can’t imagine your life without him, then maybe you need to reassess your priorities, and instead of focusing on how it can’t possibly work, start figuring out how to make it work.”
I stare back at Gabe’s mom. He looks so much like her, and I wish he were here right now. So badly.
I’ve spent my entire life trying to put down roots. To establish myself in a place. Somewhere solid and secure that I can call home.
I poured everything I had into that effort for the Dasher Valley 8, and here I am—in the same position I was when I started—more unmoored, even, if that’s possible, because I’ve had tunnel vision on what actually matters. I wanted the title, but for what? A title doesn’t mean I found my place.
I take a sip of my gingerbread latte and blow out a deep breath, a mist lifting from my mind. Maybe home isn’t a place, after all. Or maybe it doesn’t have to be.
Maybe it can be a person.
Chapter 33
Gabe
I’m pacing the dressing room fifteen minutes before I’m set to take the stage for my Christmas special. I can hear the thrum of the crowd, chatting and squealing as the show’s producer tells them what to expect. I’m so ready to get out there—nervous, anxious, but ready.
It’s almost ten in the morning on Saturday, which means the Christmas Dash is in full swing back in Dasher Valley. I wonder how Beth is doing. I wonder if she made a Christmas sweater—if she took time to pause and really take in the town green.
I get out my phone and read our text exchange from last night.
Beth
Dasher Valley 8 selection came out this morning . . .
Gabe
And?!?
Beth
I didn’t get in.
Gabe
What? I’m so sorry, Beth. Can I do anything? I wish I was there.
