Chapter Forty

On Friday morning, I kiss the kids goodbye, hug David and the girls, watch Francesca collect her things without looking at or speaking to me, and head back on the road.

I could message Adam on Instagram. I could say, I was wrong. I should have told my dad to take a hike, to leave us in peace, and I should have chosen you. It wasn't right for me fourteen years ago, but it's right for us now.

That seems too impersonal. I could have asked Maggie for his new number. That would have made sense if I wasn't so distraught last night and eager to get away this morning. As it happens, I have no way to contact him.

If he wanted to talk to me. He could still be angry. For all I know, he spent the entire drive back to Chicago deciding I was the wrong girl and that he had dodged a bullet. Or worse: he might assume I'd heed my dad's ultimatum and chose my father over him.

As I settle into my apartment for a weekend of self-pitying and crying on my couch, I can't bring myself to turn on Bravo. I don't even stress bake. Every time I think of doing so, my skin cries at the memory of Adam tying that apron so sensually around my waist, breathing into my ear, the smell of sugar in the air. Instead, I snuggle into a blanket with a cup of hot cocoa and turn on Hallmark to watch a girl fall in love with her old high school boyfriend in a town where Santa is the mayor.

Why is Santa always so creepy in these movies? And so obviously the real Santa. He knows full names and what people wanted for Christmas when they were seven, plus he shows up unexpectedly at town events with his reindeer pet, Rudy.

This just makes me cry more.

On Monday, Noelle comes in to ask about my vacation. I spill it all, leaving out the bit about Adam being Adam Kent, and she spends a solid ten minutes of our biweekly planning hour patting my back and muttering, "Three weeks, babe. Three weeks."

Three weeks until our next break, which should be a breeze, but kids expect you to be chipper during that stretch between Thanksgiving and Christmas. They don't understand why we're not making snowflake popsicle crafts or why I sit down during brain break dances.

They line up for art one day and Kennedy says, "Miss Rose, you look sick."

"She's looked like that all week," Journey adds.

Quinn says, "She just don't got her eyelashes on."

"We watched The Grinch in Spanish yesterday. Can we watch a movie tomorrow?"

I cry a little more when they finally leave me to go learn about color mixing. In an attempt to brighten my spirits, since my sister still hasn't reached out and I've scrolled through several happy pictures of Adam at a bar with his Chicago friends, I string lights up around the dry-erase board. The kids make a fake fireplace. We have a Christmas break countdown.

Ten days.

Five days.

One day.

"Merry Christmas, Miss Rose," Everleigh offers as her mom cleans up from the class party. I say goodbye, collect my gifts and belongings, and lock the back door for the next two weeks.

I don't have Christmas plans. I don't have a family that speaks to me, save for Heddy. I visit her straight from school, where she and Zander set up a table on the street for the night's Christmas festival.

"Try calling his agent or manager," she suggests, adjusting a red tablecloth. "Or slide into his DM's."

I cover my face. "That option sounds mortifying to me right now. It's the only way I have to contact him, but the thought of being another thirsty, random girl messaging him on social media grosses me out. That's not me ."

"That's not what you are to him."

"But, what if he doesn't even want to talk to me? What if being burned by me twice is two times too many?"

"You're just going to let him slip through your fingers?" she asks.

Zander sets up a tabletop tree with crystal ornaments. He waves at a guest entering the store and says he will be right with her. To me, he adds, "You have to get your man, girl, before someone else snatches him up. Like Selena Gomez. I heard they were dating."

I drop my jaw when he returns to the checkout counter. I snap at Heddy, "You told him?"

"I tell him everything. He's in my will." She frowns at my appalled face. "Don't worry honey, he's only getting my succulents."

I groan and glance around the street at the colorful lights and festive cheer.

Fake snow sprayed on doors. Paper stars hanging in window displays. Wreaths made from fresh pine branches, wrapped in velvet ribbon.

It's all so romantic and lovely.

I complain, "This isn't how it's supposed to go for me and Adam. It's supposed to be magical and perfect, like this. Insta-stalking him isn't magical."

"When did you get to be such a romantic?" Heddy untangles a string of lights.

"I've been watching Hallmark."

She drops her eyes. "Oh, honey ."

"I know." I notice a coffee truck pull up at the end of the street. "I'm going to get a drink, what do you want?"

"Iced mocha peppermint with a little bit of gingerbread drizzle, cinnamon dusting, and green sprinkles."

I make a face. "Okay sugar elf , I'll see if they have something like that in the workshop."

"They do," she answers. "I insta-stalked their menu."

I leave her to buy two lattes for me and Zander. They give me a paper tray because Heddy's Christmas Explosion cannot be contained, and I return to find Heddy hurriedly putting her phone away and a giddy expression on her face.

"I just had an idea," she announces.

I hand over her drink. "I hope it was to not drink all of that."

"I'm going to go up to the lake for a few days before Christmas. Why don't you join me? We're still waiting for Fran to cool off and tell us the plan for Christmas Day, anyway."

I hold on to the warmth of the mug and wait before drinking it to say, "You don't think she'll still be mad at me by Monday? She wouldn't keep me from the kids on Christmas, right?"

"No." Heddy waves me away. "I'm sure she'll get over it. In the meantime, you and I can snuggle up together like snowflakes from the same cloud, drink hot chocolate, watch a sappy movie."

I take a sip of coffee.

Back to the lake house and the empty house next door. The dining room where my father has twice now called Adam a piece of shit . The bedroom where I cried myself to sleep.

Reading my mind, Heddy says, "I'll sage it before you get there."

What else do I have going on for two weeks?

"Okay," I answer. "Christmas at the lake house. Sounds…magical."