Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

ELLIOT

“You can’t have it all.” Otto chased three ten-year-old girls from the snack table. “We need to save some of those cookies for when Maeve gets here.”

The girls laughed and ran off in different directions, gingerbread cookies tucked in their pockets and stuffed in their cheeks.

Paper snowflakes dangled from the ceiling. Orchestral Christmas music played softly beneath the electronic symphony of game machines. A banner hung over the door reading Gnarled Auto Gaming Tournament.

A crowd of boys circled around the foosball table in the back, including the youngest of the group, Ronny from Pinecone Heights, and a few other familiar faces from around Oldbridge.

The door opened.

Maeve stepped inside, her hair in two little buns behind her ears. She was gorgeous, as always, and my heart hurt seeing her. Even more so as her confusion morphed into a smile that wrinkled her nose.

“What is this?” she asked, eyes scanning the decorations and the bustling crowd, but not yet catching me.

Would she be upset that I was here? I hoped not.

“Happy Christmas Eve-Eve.” Otto gave her a pat on the back. He pointed across the room at me. “Talk to him.”

Her eyes snapped directly to mine.

The noise and people faded.

There was only Maeve and me.

Her eyes sparkled as she crossed the room, clearly pleased by the showing. Finally she reached me, and that sparkle remained. “You did this?”

I nodded. “I talked to Otto. We came to an agreement that there’d be no harm in the district hosting a few events here.”

“A gaming tournament. At my arcade. It’s wonderful. There are so many kids.”

“Yeah.” I’d done what I’d come to do. I’d used my resources to help a piece of our community. To help her. If this happy but restrained look on Maeve’s face was the closest I’d get to what I wanted, I’d take it. “It’s okay that you’ve moved on?—”

She frowned, making me lose what I’d been saying.

“Moved on from what?” she asked.

“Me.”

“I haven’t moved anywhere. You’re the one moving on from me.”

How could she possibly think that? “Nope, I’m still right here.”

Hope sparked in her eyes. “I saw you with Tatianna on SocialFace.”

“We’re just friends.”

“Brad…you know what, it’s not important. I believe you.”

He’d told her I was dating T? Like he told me Maeve had chosen him. “Based on this conversation so far, I’m having trouble picturing you marrying the B we’re not naming.”

“Gross. No.” She made a sour face.

I chuckled, as hope filled my chest with a warmth I’d thought I’d never feel again. “He sent me a picture of the two of you kissing.”

“He kissed me. I threw up in my mouth. It’s too bad I didn’t throw up on him. And he took a picture of that?”

“She broke his nose for it,” Otto said from across the room. “I would have shot him, too, but he left.”

Maeve hadn’t kissed Armstrong. She hadn’t chosen him.

My heart soared.

“All of his billboards are gone,” Otto said. “I’ve been talking to business owners around the district, and he’s pulled out of every standing contract. Best part, his phone’s disconnected, and his website has a message from his daddy saying Bradford is no longer an Armstrong. He’s been disowned.”

I’d noticed the billboards, and I’d heard rumors. I’d have to check out the website later and reach out to the business owners. Later. Because right now, Maeve had my full attention.

“So you did all of this for me, even when thinking I was with Bradford?” She gestured to the joyful chaos happening all around us.

“I want you to be happy, Maeve.”

“Seeing the arcade full makes me happy. Finding out you’re not dating Tatianna makes me happy, too.”

“The only person I want to date is you.”

“Well, that’s good news, because I’m pretty stuck on you.” She grabbed onto the collar of my coat and rose up on her toes.

There may not be perfect timing or perfect people, but there was no question that Maeve was perfect for me.

I kissed her to show her what I couldn’t express with words. She tasted like my Christmas gift from the universe, like drinking hot chocolate in freshly fallen snow. She felt like happiness. She felt like home.