5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Cole

W hat in God’s name have I gotten myself into? That was my only thought as we crowded into the nursing home’s lobby with West’s brothers, their girlfriends, and the Davies parents. My head spun as I realized I’d need to try to remember everyone’s names. I took a deep breath and focused on the introductions.

“You’re the boyfriend?” Mr. Davies asked, stepping forward to shake my hand. He wore a dark gray V-neck with a red and white cardigan sweater over it, along with jeans, and the only word I could conjure to describe him was “jolly.” I nodded and took his hand to shake it.

“Yes, sir. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Davies.”

He waved my pleasantry away. “Please, call me Chuck. Everyone does.”

“And I’m Eleanor,” his mom said. She looked elegant in a cream sweater and pearls, a dark green skirt, and her hair pulled up and tucked away into a bun.

West cleared his throat. “And these are my brothers, from youngest to oldest—Rhett, Nolan, and Beckett. And their partners, of course. Lacy, Noelle, and Summer.” Each person nodded or waved at me as they were being introduced and I had absolutely every confidence in the world that I’d completely forget everyone’s name within the following five minutes.

“Where are the kids?” West asked after introductions were done.

Chuck waved his hand as if the question was inconsequential. “We hired a pair of sitters. They’re at home. We didn’t think bringing a half-dozen kids would be a good idea for the residents. You know how the kids are.”

West nodded, but all I could think about was how there could have been another six names to learn, and thanking my lucky stars the kids had been left at home.

While I pondered that, Eleanor handed out a stack of white three-ring binders, each stuffed with the words and music to a number of carols—most of them classics, but a few I hadn’t heard of before. Seeing the music printed in front of me, panic gripped me again.

I leaned close to West. “I can’t read music,” I hissed.

He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll get the tunes pretty quickly. If you don’t know it, just stay quiet until you’re ready. Nobody will notice.”

“Is there a backing track, at least?”

He shook his head. “We sing a cappella. You’ll be fine, trust me.”

With a tentative nod, I opened my book and followed his lead.

Eleanor clearly had a master plan, because she led us directly to the dining room to start off. We began by singing a few classics, including “Frosty the Snowman” and “Silent Night.” The residents mostly stopped eating and sang along with us, seeming to enjoy the music and entertainment. The room was decorated with swaths of garland, red and gold ribbons everywhere, and several Christmas trees decked out with ornaments set off to the sides.

After delighting the main dining room for a good fifteen minutes, we wandered on. The nursing home was big—much bigger than I’d expected—and the hallway patterns were so complex it felt like a labyrinth. “If we get lost here, I’ll never find my way out,” I murmured to West, who chuckled.

“Don’t worry, I’ll rescue you.”

We continued on, stopping at the entryways to activity rooms, at small apartments clustered together, and two more dining rooms. It was overwhelming, but rewarding to see the smiles of joy on the residents’ faces.

As we walked, West and I began to hang back a little, sharing private smiles and a few brushes of our hands, sending electricity zinging through me every time we touched. I wanted more—wanted to get to know him better, as a person and physically. At one point, we stopped at a nurses’ station and West chatted with a nurse for a few minutes about a resident.

“Hey there, Ashleigh,” he said, leaning on the half-wall surrounding the station. “How’s Mrs. Thomas these days?”

Ashleigh gave him a sad smile and shook her head. “Not great. She doesn’t get a lot of visitors. Do you want to pop in and check on her?”

“That would be great. Can you ask if she’d be willing to see us?”

Ashleigh nodded and stood up. “Let me go see. I’ll be right back.”

The minute she was gone around a corner, West turned to me. “Mrs. Thomas was my Home Economics teacher in middle and high school. She was the best. I’ve been visiting her as much as possible since she moved here, but with the coffee shop, it’s hard to get away sometimes.”

I nodded in understanding, but peered around him to where his family was continuing down the hallway. “Should we get back to the group?”

West shook his head. “We’ll catch up. No worries.”

A few moments later, Ashleigh was back with a smile. “Mrs. Thomas would love to see you,” she said.

West grinned widely. “Awesome. Follow me.”

Mrs. Thomas, it turned out, lived in a small apartment just a few doors down and around a corner from the nurses’ station. She was seated in front of her television on a small love seat, her curly white hair in a cloud around her head. When West stopped and knocked, her face lit up. “Come in, come in,” she called.

West took a few steps into the room and gestured for me to follow. “Hey there. How have you been?” He leaned forward and hugged her gently, my heart swelling watching the two of them interact. He seemed so comfortable and confident, not at all how I felt around older adults. As they chatted and caught up, I hung back, listening and trying not to interrupt. Eventually, Mrs. Thomas turned to me.

“And who’s this friend of yours, West?”

He grinned and took my hand. “This is my boyfriend. His name is Cole.”

My stomach did a somersault at that and I squeezed his hand gently.

“Cole,” West continued. “This is Mrs. Thomas. She’s the one who taught me to bake cookies from scratch the first time. She’s practically a wizard in the kitchen.”

Mrs. Thomas’s cheeks turned pink at the flattery. “You’re too kind to me, West. We all know you would have made your dreams happen with or without my help. And Cole—you’re so handsome. You two look like a match made in heaven. Just perfect for each other.”

Before I could respond beyond mumbling my thanks, West spoke up. “We should get going. We have caroling to do. Can I come back and visit you after the holidays?”

“Of course you can. Come by anytime.”

We said our goodbyes and headed back into the hall. Just as we did, stopping at the corner just outside of Mrs. Thomas’s apartment, we spotted his family heading back in our direction.

“Oh!” Mrs. Thomas called. “You’re under the mistletoe.” West’s face immediately flooded red, eyes wide. He glanced at Mrs. Thomas, who was smiling, a mischievous grin on her face. “You’ll have to kiss. You know the rules!”

Before we could protest, one of West’s brothers—the middle one, maybe—piped up, having overheard. “That’s right! Kiss time!” His voice cut through the singing and everyone quieted down except his parents, who continued singing, both smiling and shaking their heads fondly as if they were used to this kind of playful teasing among their sons.

“You don’t have to,” West mumbled, looking at his feet. “I’m so sorry about this.” Even the tips of his ears were red as he tried hard to avoid the demands of his brothers.

I put a finger under his chin and tipped his face up toward mine, urging him to look at me. “Hey. It’s okay.” I leaned in and pressed my lips to his gently, his breath hitching as I did. Around us, applause broke out, and people cheered. When we parted, West’s fingertips brushed his bottom lip and he let out a shaky breath.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“Thank you ,” I whispered back, feeling like I was the one who won in that interaction.