Chapter 67

CHAPTER 67

MARIGOLD

S omething about Christmas Eve always felt timeless to me. No matter how sad or grumpy I was, Christmas Eve made things better. There was just something about the magic of the night, the twinkling lights, the smell of baking cookies, and the promise of Christmas morning that always got to me. I guessed that was how it was meant to be.

The house had the typical smells, including the scent of sugar cookies I had just pulled from the oven. Elvis Presley was singing about silver bells. The sound of his voice drifting through the rooms was nostalgic. Outside, the snow was still falling, creating the picture-perfect winter wonderland.

I poured two cups of the hot cocoa I made from scratch. It was the only way to serve it on Christmas Eve. I squirted whipped cream on top and finished it off with chocolate sprinkles. I put the mugs onto a tray along with a plate of cookies and carried it into the living room.

"Smells divine," Dad said.

I sat on the couch with my feet tucked underneath me, sipping from a chipped Christmas mug that read, "Mom's Favorite."

I kept that one for myself after she passed. Across from me, Dad sat in his recliner, sipping his own hot chocolate and staring at the twinkling lights on the tree. It was our tradition, this quiet moment on Christmas Eve, soaking it all in before the chaos of the morning.

No TV. No phones. Just us and the Christmas spirit.

"You sure you're happy being here, honey?" Dad asked, breaking the peaceful silence.

I looked at him, a little confused. "What kind of question is that? Of course I am."

He gave me a half-smile, eyes crinkling. "You've got a man waiting for you back in New York, and you're spending Christmas Eve with me. I just want to make sure you're not missing out."

"I'm not missing out on anything, Dad." I reached over and grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze. "I'm right where I want to be. With you. In this house, in this moment. And you know what? I wouldn't trade it for anything."

Dad let out a little sigh, but I could see the relief on his face. "I just don't want you thinking you need to be here for me. I'm not lonely. I'm alone, but that's because I choose to be. I had my time with the love of my life. You should have that as well."

"And I will," I said.

"I don't want you to risk your relationship because you think I can't be alone," he said.

"Zayn and I are going to be fine. We're both on the same page, and we'll figure it out. He needed to be in New York and I wanted to be here. It's fine. I don't have to spend every minute with him. I like knowing I can still be independent. We'll figure out the logistics of our relationship after the holidays. Right now, I'm focused on this moment. This night. And tomorrow. That's it."

Dad grinned, a mischievous look in his eyes. "Oh, I've talked logistics with him."

I nearly spilled my drink. "What do you mean, you've talked logistics? What logistics?"

"He'll tell you when he's ready," Dad said, with that infuriating dad-smirk that always made me feel like I was five years old again. "It was his idea."

"Ugh, you're the worst!" I playfully tossed a pillow at him, which he caught effortlessly, chuckling like he'd just won some kind of battle.

But honestly, I was curious. What had Zayn been plotting? And why did my dad know about it before I did?

We enjoyed our pre-dinner snack. We always ate a small dinner on Christmas Eve, saving our stomachs for the feast I would make tomorrow.

"Do you want more cocoa?" I asked.

"No thank you." He smiled. "I've got something for you."

"Oh?" I perked up, grinning. "What, another pair of ugly Christmas socks? A Christmas sweater that sings?"

"Nope." He disappeared into the hall for a moment and came back holding a small stocking, the one I'd had since I was a kid. "It's in here."

I reached into the stocking, feeling around until I pulled out a small box. "What's this?" I asked.

"You'll have to open it to find out." He chuckled.

I opened the box. Inside was a pair of turquoise earrings, simple yet beautiful. I recognized the style immediately—similar to the ones my mom used to wear, but with a more modern twist. They were very me .

"Dad—" My voice caught in my throat. "These are perfect."

"I know you've been thinking about her a lot. I thought you should have your own pair. Something that's yours but still connected to her."

Tears welled up before I could stop them. I swallowed, trying to keep my voice steady. "Thank you. Really, Dad. This means the world to me."

He stood and pulled me into a hug, his hand rubbing my back in a way only a dad could. "You've always been my world, Marigold. Always have been, always will be. But you need to start making choices for yourself. Not for me. Not for anyone else. Just for you. I'm going to be okay. Yes, I'll miss you, but as a parent, my happiness comes from seeing you happy. I don't want you to put your life on hold for me. I'm your father. I raised you with the expectation and hope you would leave the nest."

I nodded into his chest, the words sinking in.

When we pulled back, he had a twinkle in his eye. "Besides, your mom would kick my ass if she thought I was holding you back."

I laughed, wiping away a stray tear. "You're not holding me back, Dad. But I hear you. Loud and clear."

"Good. Now, I'm going to go get ready for church."

"Me too."

It was part of our Christmas Eve tradition. Every year we went. The town always put on a dinner for anyone who didn't have family or a place to go for Christmas. I loved volunteering. It made the holiday feel a little more whole, like we were spreading the love to people who needed it most. Dad always joked that it was my way of giving back after all the years I spent messing up the church's nativity play as a kid.

I put on a black skirt and the plaid sweater I picked up at the end of winter last year with the intention of wearing it tonight. Dad was wearing his Sunday best. "You look handsome," I said with a smile.

"And you look very nice," he said. "Shall we go?"

I put on my coat and bundled up for the trip to the church. Dad got behind the wheel, driving with all the confidence in the world through the winter wonderland.

"So, is the media still all over you and Zayn?" Dad asked.

I shrugged. "The live I did cleared most of it up. There will always be trolls, but they're background noise at this point. I'm not actively reading their comments. I don't care. They are going to think what they want and say what they want. That's on them. Zayn and I know the truth. That's what matters."

He nodded. "Good. You don't need to be worrying about that nonsense."

Inside the church, the dinner was in full swing. Tables were laid out with steaming dishes of mashed potatoes, roasted turkey, and every holiday side you could imagine. I grabbed an apron and got to work, ladling gravy over plates and smiling at the familiar faces from town. Dad was there to help, but as usual, he ended up chatting with some of the other men.

Several people offered me well wishes and congratulations on my relationship with Zayn. I did what I could to steer the conversation away from him. I didn't want to talk about us with the public. Our relationship needed a little TLC, not public scrutiny.

And then, just as I was getting into a groove, I saw her. Courtney. Standing at the dessert table with a plate of pie. My first instinct was to slam that pie in her face, not unlike the shot I'd thrown at her. But it was Christmastime and Santa frowned on unprovoked assault with holiday treats, no matter how satisfying it would be.

Our eyes met, and for a second, I didn't know what to expect. I inhaled a deep calming breath and kept my cool. If she started shit in church, I wasn't going to have to worry about dealing with her. A higher power would take care of it.

I also didn't want to disrupt this festive dinner and good time for everyone. No one needed to watch us get scrappy. I was too damn old for it. And I would probably end up back in the news.

I ladled more gravy and tried to forget about her. Then she headed over in my direction.

Shit. Worse comes to worst, I can fling a ladle of greasy gravy at her, but let's hope it doesn't come to that.

I watched as her hands went to her hips. Was she reaching for a weapon? I gripped the ladle, ready for anything. But she just nervously smoothed her hands on her slacks

"Hey," she said, her voice soft. "Can we talk?"

I wasn't sure what she was going to say, but I nodded. I passed off my ladling duties to another volunteer, feeling unarmed and vulnerable. She led me away from the crowd of people where the chatter wasn't so overwhelming.

"What's up?" I asked, keeping her literally at arm's length. Just out of stabbing distance, in case she was looking to even the score.

Courtney took a deep breath. "I owe you an apology. A real one this time. I was wrong for what I did—posting all that stuff about you and Zayn. I don't know why I did it. I guess I was just caught up in everything, and I didn't think about how it would hurt you. But I'm really sorry."

For a moment, I was stunned. I had been ready for anything but kindness. Was it all a ruse to get me to lower my guard? I never should have relinquished my ladle.

But then I saw the sincerity in her eyes and I realized something. If I could grow and change, maybe she could too.

"I appreciate that, Courtney," I said, offering her a small smile. "And I accept your apology. It wasn't an easy experience for me, but we've all learned from it. So thank you."

She looked visibly relieved, letting out a breath she'd probably been holding for weeks. "Thanks, Marigold. That means a lot. I hope this means we can start over."

"All water under the bridge," I said. "As long as you cut out the crappy nicknames."

She nodded. "Yeah, sorry about that. You were right to call me on it. Sometimes I'm a jerk and I don't even know why. I always feel bad afterward but that doesn't change the feelings I hurt."

"We can call ourselves even and just move forward," I said. "We both said and did things we regret."

"Deal," she said. "Are you going to be living here now?"

I smiled. She might have apologized and she might have looked genuine, but I had learned not to open up about my plans. "I'm not sure," I said. "We're still working out the details."

She smiled. "I hope it works out for you. You deserve a good man and I think Zayn is that man."

"Thank you for saying that."

With that, she said her goodbyes and walked away, leaving me feeling lighter than I had in a long time. It was a Christmas miracle.

As I headed back to the food line, Dad caught my eye from across the room, giving me an approving nod. I smiled to myself.

If Courtney could come around and act like a human being, then anything was possible.

Maybe things would work out after all.