With everyone except for Carley. He ignores her most of the time, except for when he needs something from her.
I’ve never considered myself to be a violent person, but every time I hear his voice combined with the high tinkle of feminine laughter, my knuckles start to itch.
But hitting her ex-fiancé—current fiancé?—wouldn’t actually make me feel any better. Because the real problem is my heart shattering. I am walking wounded at the moment, trying not to think about it.
Nobody tells you when you’re young just how painful a broken heart can be. It feels like I’m walking around weighed down with a two-ton boulder.
I keep seeing the hope and relief on Carley’s face when she looked at her phone and saw the messages. I keep hearing her say ‘two consenting adults.’ It would never be that for me. The past days, for me, were a confirmation of something that I’ve always known and wanted. And if this is all I get of it, then I will be grateful.
But fuck, I hope that it’s not the end.
As we work, the day warms up a little, but there are still patches of mud that are iced over here and there. Spots that the watery winter sun haven’t quite been able to penetrate.
I’m heading toward the food—finally having a chance to breathe after several hours of building—when I hear a yelp beside me. Instinctually I reach out and catch the person that’s falling before they hit the ground. “Oh fuck,” she says, laughing. “Thank you. That wouldn’t have been fun.”
I set her upright and find myself looking at Megan Gingham. Red’s granddaughter. “Happy I was within grabbing distance.”
She nods. “Pickles are a fine trade.”
I lean down and retrieve the jar that went flying. “Looks like they’re okay.”
“Thanks to you.”
I sigh and scrub my hands over my face. “Seems like I’m the knight in shining armor. Or at least that’s what people tell me.”
“Yes, they do say that. You’re damn near a hero around these parts, you know?”
“I swear, I really don’t try.”
She laughs. “Nah, I know you don’t. You’re just a good person, that’s all. Like offering to pick up my grandfather to bring him here even though you live right next door?”
“It’s really no trouble.”
Megan smiles again, but it’s just a friendly smile. There’s nothing about her behavior that reminds me of a woman trying to hit on me or see if I’m interested. She’s just kind.
“Don’t worry about it,” she says. “I’m sorry that he even asked you. I’ll be driving him myself tomorrow.”
“You sure? We could cause a scandal if we don’t show up together. I hear people are already talking about us going together.”
Megan winces. “Yes, I’m very sure. I’m not sure why my grandfather can’t mind his own business, but he can’t help but try to set me up. I swear, that man wants me married more than my own mother. His truck isn’t even broken.”
“Well then,” I laugh, “if he does need a ride, I’m happy to offer it, but if you’ve got it…”
She holds out a hand. “I’ve got it. And if it’s all the same to you, I’ve got my eye on someone else.”
“It’s definitely okay,” I say with a smile. “Me too.”
“Oh, good. I was worried you’d be offended.”
I shake my head. “The way Red is setting you up? That’s the way the entire town is with me. I’ve been conveniently paired up with unsuspecting daughters and granddaughters for years.”
“God, that sounds awful. I’m sorry.”
I laugh and look toward the food table again, seeing if Carley is nearby, but I don’t see her. “It’s all right. Hopefully it won’t be an issue too much longer.”
“Same. Good luck!”
“You too.”
We part ways, and a little part of the weight is lifted off my chest. I’m glad that’s out of the way. I really didn’t want to hurt Megan, or Red, or Carley for that matter. This worked out well.
Wild blonde hair catches my eye, and I see Carley to my right, sitting with a giant pile of Christmas lights in her lap while she tries to untangle them. Tyler is walking away, and she looks miserable sitting in the dirt just working on the lights alone.
Food can wait.
“You need some help?”
Carley looks up with a start. Her eyes rove over me like she doesn’t believe I’m real, staring so long that I think something might be wrong.
“Sure,” she says finally. “I’m not sure what’s got them so tangled. Every year whoever puts them back swears that they wrapped them up neatly, and every year they come out of the box like the devil himself reached in here and knotted them. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Maybe it’s the ghosts of Christmas future, trying to make sure that we have more than enough to do to set up.”
Carley snorts and looks around. “I think we have plenty to do without busy work.”