He should have told her that he’d been bowled over by her the very first second he’d seen her.
He should have told her she’d filled all his waking thoughts since he’d met her. She’d filled most of his dreams too.
He should have told her when she looked at him; he felt his whole heart swell. When he touched her, he felt so connected to her, so in tune that he couldn’t ever imagine being with anyone else.
He should have told her that he loved her.
For the first time in his life, Mitch Holden felt like a coward.
And he hated that.
Chapter Thirteen
‡
She wasn’t quite sure how she got back to Bramble House. The sun was shining high in the sky, but it hadn’t melted any of the snow in the streets. The whole of Marietta still had that Christmas look and feel. But Christmas was the last thing she was feeling right now.
She pushed open the door to Bramble House and the smell of cookies nearly knocked her over. It was amazing. Like a huge, warm hug.
She brushed away one of the tears that had sneaked down her cheek.
She knew Mitch had wanted to say something. She could sense his reaction next to her. Mitch’s first reaction was protection. She’d seen that in him. But that wasn’t what she wanted – it wasn’t what she needed.
She needed truth. She needed honesty. She needed him to sit down and think hard. The guy loved kids. He worked in a blooming high school.
He’d be a great father and she imagined he’d always thought a family would be in his future.
She didn’t want to be the person to get in his way. She didn’t want to muddy the waters.
She took off her coat and hung it up on the large coat stand. Bramble House was strangely quiet. It was usually full of bustle and noise.
She walked through to the library. A large enticing plate of cookies was sitting on the table. Was that steam coming off them? She looked around again; surely, Chris must be around here somewhere?
“Chris? Are you there?”
She walked through to the kitchen. There were some dishes in the sink but it was quiet, too.
The smell was enticing her, drawing her back to the library like the Pied Piper playing his tunes to the children.
She sat down at the table and looked at the cookies. What was that? Was that glitter?
She picked up the nearest cookie. From the smell it was spiced with ginger and cinnamon. Just what she needed right now. She opened her mouth and then stopped.
There definitely was something glittering over the top of this cookie. Was it Chris’s magic dust?
She was being ridiculous now. Of course it wasn’t. Maybe he’d purchased some edible glitter and decided to throw it in the cookies for fun.
She looked around. Still no one there.
She closed her eyes for a second. What harm could one little wish do?
But today wasn’t the same as Miracle Lake. She didn’t want to wish for the impossible.
She wished for thing that would make her truly happy.
She closed her eyes and whispered, “I wish for someone to love me just the way I am. I wish to be enough.”
Chapter Fourteen
‡
The rose gold ring was in his hand. He could almost hear his grandmother lecturing him. Why have you left it so long? Why couldn’t you just tell her the truth straight out and find out what kind of girl she was? Why have you let yourself get tied up in knots like this?
He pushed the ring back into the blue velvet box. Even the box mocked him. It was the same color as the fitted coat Emma had been wearing yesterday with her black boots.
A train rumbled past his house and shook his Christmas tree at the front window. One of the glass ornaments dangled dangerously close to the edge of its branch and tumbled to the floor, smashing to smithereens.
That was it. He couldn’t wait. He couldn’t wait any longer.
He had to tell the woman he loved that he’d screwed things up.
He had to find out if he was enough.
*
Emma was working at The Graff. It was a special kind of afternoon tea and they’d needed a waitress for this afternoon. It had actually been kind of fun. There were twelve women, all laughing and joking, ranging in age from around four to around eighty-four. As the afternoon had progressed and the sun had dipped in the sky, the tea had mysteriously changed into wine. The eldest lady had declared she would drink nothing other than Kir Royales and the barman had been kept busy.
The two younger kids had tired of the chatter and spent the late afternoon skipping around the large Christmas tree in the foyer and running up and down the stairs.
Every now and then, she would sneak out to cast a watchful eye on them and come back to refill the plates and glasses of the women inside.
She’d hardly had time to think about things.
She’d hardly had time to think about the fact there were no texts on her phone. No missed calls.
The lovely town of Marietta had lost a little of its shine.
Chris was on duty at The Graff today, too. The queue for Santa’s Grotto seemed to reproduce at an alarming rate. But all the kids left happy, clutching a present in one hand and a photo of them, on Santa’s lap, in the other.
“Why don’t you join us for a glass of wine?” piped up one of the ladies. “You’re new in town, aren’t you? And your shift must be just about finished?”
Emma bent to pick the pile of plates from the table. “That’s lovely, but no thanks. This is a family thing.”
The old matriarch gripped her wrist. The plates wobbled. For someone who looked as if they’d blow over in a puff of wind, she had an iron like grip.
“But we’re all family in Marietta. And it sounds like yours is too far away to visit. Sit down, lovely. Tell us how you ended up here in your wedding dress.”
Heat rushed into her cheeks. She should have guessed. Since she was the only Scots girl in town, they would quickly tie her to that story.
The rest of the heads turned around quickly.
“That was you?”
“Of course, that was her.”
One woman patted the chaise lounge she was sitting on. “Oh, please sit down. Do tell?”
Emma smiled quickly and tried to hurry away. She didn’t want to be anyone else’s source of entertainment. No matter how interesting the story sounded.
“She left her groom at the altar because she’s the bravest, gutsiest woman I know.”
Her hands jerked and the plates shattered on the floor.
Twelve faces stared open-mouthed at her.
Her hand rushed up to her face. “Mitch?”
He was standing at the doorway, his face pale and his jacket unfastened, snow glistening in his hair and on his shoulders.
There was something weird about him. Even from here, she could see that he was trembling.
He took a tentative step forward. “She’s a lot braver than me.”
It was like a tennis match. The twelve heads batted first one way, then the other.
When Emma didn’t speak, one of the other women piped up. “Why?”
“Because when I found out I couldn’t have kids, I didn’t tell anyone. I just dated, and as soon as anyone seemed serious, I just cooled things off. I wasn’t as brave as Emma.”
Eyes widened. He knew most of the women sitting around that table. He’d dated at least a few of their friends. It was as good as putting up a mile-high poster in town.
“What?” Emma’s voice was barely a whisper.
A face stuck out from the swinging kitchen door. Elliot, the chef, stared at the smashed plates on the floor that no one had moved to clear. “What on—”
“Quiet!” Twelve voices shouted at once and Elliot raised his eyebrows then ducked his head back into the kitchen.
Emma hadn’t moved. She couldn’t move.
None of this seemed quite real.
But Mitch was definitely there. He was definitely standing in front of her. His face wracked with worry.