Chapter Twelve

Bo

Why were those man’s hands on Izzy?

She didn’t look happy about it. In fact, quite the opposite, she looked pretty peeved.

That did it, Santa suit and all, I was going over there to help her.

“Santa, you stopped reading. Why?” the little boy in the front row asked, his brown eyes as wide as saucers.

“Sorry, kid.”

When I got sour expressions all around, I cleared my throat and got back into character. “Now where were we?” I asked, my voice taking on Santa’s deep baritone.

I didn’t have much of the story left to read, but I still wasn’t focused on the words nearly as much as I should’ve been. My eyes kept darting over to where Izzy was standing with that guy.

He looked so smug, so arrogant, the way he was looking at her, his chest puffed out, like he thought the sun rose and set with him. Geez, I hated men like him. I especially wasn’t fond of him, though, because I had never seen Izzy look as upset as she was in his presence. As she pointed to the door, by way of showing him to it I could only hope, I read the last line in the story aloud. “And to all a good night.”

“Is that it?” A little girl pulled at her pigtails. “Can you read us another story, Santa?”

Before I could even answer, I got “pleases” all around from the group of kids, some even with a pout.

“Ho, ho, ho! I wish I could, but—”

“But Santa has to get back to the North Pole. He put the elves in charge while he was gone, but now he has to get back. Right, Santa?” Izzy asked me pointedly as she walked over to join the little rugrats.

“Ho, ho, ho!” I bellowed again, holding onto my stuffed belly and standing. “That’s right or they’ll elf around and we can’t have that, we have toys to deliver soon. Now you all go home and make sure you’ve sent your lists to me, okay,” I said, not sure where that came from, but it seemed to do the trick so I made a beeline for the backroom.

No more than five minutes later, Izzy joined me. I was taking off my white beard and tossing it on a chair to the side where the jacket was already sitting—that was the first thing that went.

“The kids loved you,” Izzy said, a smile on her face. Only, this time I didn’t mind it as much as I usually did.

Maybe smiles were growing on me.

Maybe Izzy was.

Either way, I scoffed. “Well, I’m done with the Santa gig. I quit, retire, whatever you want to call it. I’m never wearing this thing again.” I gestured to the ridiculously bulky ensemble and grunted, pulling the belly stuffing off. “It smells, too.”

“No,” she said, waving a hand in the air and walking closer. “Plus, I kind of liked the beard. You might want to steal it and take it home to New York. The ladies there might like it, too.”

I cocked a brow. “You see I have a beard, right?” I touched my own real one now, glad to be rid of the white long one that was beginning to tickle me. “And mine’s not white or forever long and unmaintained. Bonus points in my book.”

She gave me a lopsided smile and swayed her head back and forth. “True. I never thought I’d like a man with a beard before. Until you.”

I widened my eyes. Like a man with a beard before? Did she like one now? Did she like me ?

Quickly, she backed up, “I mean, not until yours. And I don’t like a man with a beard, well, not like that anyway. Just that I never liked beards and now I think I do.” She cringed as she rambled. “It’s not you that I like. Although, I don’t dislike you.”

I knew what she was saying. I held up a hand to try and put her out of her misery. “It’s fine. I understand what you mean.”

Sighing, she clasped her hands together and nodded her head toward the door. “Good. Well, I should get back out there. The kids are shopping, so. . . .” she said, her words trailing off.

“Wait,” I said, extending a hand to touch her, only I never actually did because she turned around so fast and I dropped my hand.

She gave me a questioning look.

Oh, what was I thinking? That was right, I was thinking I sort of liked this girl and wanted to spend more time with her. Don’t worry, I was going to go to the hospital later to get my head checked out.

“Bo?” she pushed. “What is it?”

“The party,” I blurted out. “For Louie and Fiona. We should talk about it.”

Furrowing her brows, she asked, “Talk about it? What about it?”

Nice going, Bo. You were starting to make no sense. Yes, what did I want to talk about?

All of the details we already covered?

Or how about all of the details we already covered?

Go ahead, you could think it—I was an idiot.

“Just forget it.”

“No, it doesn’t matter. We can talk about whatever you want. You can come to my house after I close up.” She shook her head and chuckled nervously. “I mean, for dinner. I’m heating up leftover soup, so nothing special, but still. It gets lonely sometimes eating alone, so it would be nice to share a meal and we can talk about whatever.” Then she placed her hands up. “If you want to, of course.”

I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. “Sure. Sounds nice.” Then out of the blue, I flicked the white ball at the end of her Santa hat and smiled, enjoying the way it looked on her.

* * *

Izzy had never looked at me that way before, the way she just had with a smile that reached her eyes, that seemed to sparkle. And when I placed my hand in the middle of the table, she did the same until our hands were touching. She never attempted to move away, either.

Maybe I was overthinking things and should ignore it. Although, this felt like the first time we were truly seeing one another.

It was nice.

It was also certainly new. Unless it had been brewing from the very start.

“So how did you get to live in a town with sixteen hundred people?” I asked, standing to clear our soup bowls, but she stopped me.

“It’s okay.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Neither do I. Please, sit.”

“Okay.” I sat down again, my gaze turning to her Christmas tree that sat in her living room. It was exactly what I’d expect from this woman—big, festive and cheerful.

“Anyway, it’s sixteen hundred and two,” she corrected me before answering my question. “And I grew up here. This town is all I’ve ever known.”

“Wow, well, the two additional people change everything. I was wrong. This isn’t a small town. This is a great big town.” We both laughed. “It’s just. . . I can’t see how anyone would want to stay here. Didn’t you ever want to leave?”

She shrugged and took a sip of her water. “You know, in high school all I heard was about how everyone couldn’t wait to graduate so they could get out of here. They swore they’d never come back once they left and some of them haven’t.” She sighed. “But for me, I couldn’t imagine a better place to call home. Sure, it’s small, but I have everything I need right here.”

“Do you think you’ll ever want to travel, see the world?”

“No, I don’t think so. I want a family. I want to settle down and get married, actually. I want children, a full house to share my joyful and woeful days with. Isn’t that what life is all about? Being able to share in the good and bad times?”

“Seems like you believe in happily ever after.”

“You don’t?”

“I believe in reality,” I said, sighing.

At her pout, I knew I couldn’t just leave it at that. And maybe Izzy was the first person in my life, besides Louie, who I considered a friend, someone I could talk to. I ran a hand through my hair and leaned back. “It’s just that I didn’t have the greatest childhood and my parents didn’t have the best marriage. I don’t even think I’d know the first thing about being someone’s husband, let alone a father one day. See, the thing is, I’m good at business. I know what I’m doing when it comes to negotiations and board meetings. Family life, not so much.”

“Does anyone really know anything? You learn as you go. That’s what we’re all doing, really. We’re learning and making mistakes as we go.” She leaned forward, her arm coming across the table, her chest pushed up against it. The Christmas music she had on in the background changed to a more upbeat song.

I tried to listen to the lyrics, but found myself thinking aloud. “I don’t like to make mistakes.”

“Did you know everything about business right out of the gate? I’m sure you didn’t, but you learned and now you love it because you feel comfortable doing it.”

I nodded. “I suppose.”

Why was it that this woman had a tendency to make me think about things I usually didn’t think about?

* * *

“I don’t believe it,” I said, shaking my head in denial as I wiped the pot she heated our soup in, Izzy next to me at the sink with rubber gloves and suds up to her elbows as she washed the dishes.

“Well, believe it,” she replied, her voice full of laughter. “I ate all the garland and had no clue what to say when my teacher asked me where it went.”

“In your stomach?”

“It was popcorn and cranberry garland. No teacher should trust a ten-year-old with that.”

“And yet your peers didn’t eat it.”

“Hey! Some of them did.” Full of laughter at the memory, Izzy pointed a sudsy finger in my direction. “Don’t judge! Anyway, it happened to be taco Tuesday. I never did like taco Tuesday. Worst day of the week in my book.”

Astonished by this fact, I stood there, my mouth hanging open. “What? Who hates tacos?” I’d never heard of anyone saying no to tacos, let alone hating them.

“Me.” She laughed, the sound washing over me like a warm hug. It wasn’t the first time she’d laughed tonight and I was quickly realizing I liked it. “Well, when I was a kid. Now they’re just fine.”

“Just fine? That’s what you say about broccoli or peas.”

“Don’t like green veggies, do you?” she countered passing me a teacup to dry.

“Not when I was a kid. But I was more normal than you. Tacos.” I scoffed. “That’s like a crime or something to not love tacos at any age.”

I ran my cloth over the delicate object and moved to grab the handle, but it slipped from my big hands before I could get a grip on it and it hit the floor square on its side.

“Oh tinsel!” Izzy cried out.

“I’m so sorry,” I rushed to say, feeling useless. “I don’t usually have butter fingers. I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s fine, really. It fell out of your hands. It’s not your fault. These things happen,” she said looking at the floor as I bent down to pick it up for her.

I held it out as she slipped off her gloves. “It’s broken,” I said, sounding lame even to my own ears. Of course it’s broken, it wasn’t rubber.

Looking at it, she spun it in her hands until her finger connected with the now missing piece. “It’s not broken per say. Just chipped.”

“Same thing.”

“No, it’s okay.”

I shook my head. Wasn’t she going to get mad or make me feel bad? “You’re not upset?”

Still holding it, she reached for the broken piece on the floor. “It’s not ideal, but it’s just a cup.”

“You’re not actually going to keep this and drink out of it, are you?”

“No, of course not. But it’s nice. I actually think I like it chipped.”

“You like a chipped cup?” I did not understand this woman. How could everything always be so bright in her world? What was wrong with me that I wasn’t more like that?

Oh, that was right—life jaded me.

“Nothing’s perfect, Bo. This just reminds us of that.”

Exactly! Like life, my brain shouted at me. But why did that have the kind of effect it did on me and not her? Not sure I wanted to vocalize my thoughts, instead I said, “I certainly don’t need a reminder of that. I know nothing is perfect.”

“Maybe so, but it’s imperfectly perfect if you ask me.” She smiled and walked the cup to a cabinet where she set it behind the glass on full display. Then she turned to me and winked.

Unable to stop myself, I smiled, too. I still felt bad, but there was something about her response to the whole thing that just surprised me, made me feel a little bit better. “Then that’s all that matters.”

Breaking eye contact, she walked back to the sink. “You know, I really should finish cleaning up. You don’t have to keep drying.”

“What, do you not trust me? I wouldn’t, either.” Obviously I couldn’t be trusted.

“No, I just think you’re a guest. You shouldn’t have to keep working with me,” she said.

“You said that before.”

“It’s okay, I have this under control,” she said all but ushering me out. “Look, why don’t you sit down in the living room and enjoy a good book.”

I turned to the shelf she had lining the wall opposite of her tree. “Like read one?”

She nodded. “I’ll be right out and I can join you, unless you want to leave.” She bit her bottom lip as she waited for my decision.

“I’ll read, thanks.”

* * *

I looked over at Izzy who was curled up next to me on the couch, her feet underneath her. After she finished cleaning up, she came and sat down next to me, fully intending on reading, too, but she obviously fell asleep.

I lifted the book from her hands—her grip on it loose at best—closed it and laid it down on the end table. Waking her was the last thing I wanted, especially when she looked so peaceful, but it was late and I figured I should probably get going.

Before I could move, though, she stirred next to me then opened her eyes and pulled back to look at me. “Sorry, I fell asleep.”

“It’s okay,” I said, patting her knee. “It’s late. I should go.”

Nodding, she sat up straighter. “Yeah, okay. Thanks for letting me sleep.”

“I guess I got a little absorbed in the fictional world.” I held up the book I was reading.

Smiling, she fixed her hair and extended her feet out in front of her. “Did you finish it?”

I shook my head. “No, but if it’s all right with you, I think I’ll keep it here. Maybe I can finish it another time.” That would mean I’d have to come back.

Only, what would happen when I went back to New York? My time here was almost up. Would we get another night like this?

How I hoped so.

It turned out, I rather enjoyed myself today, spending time with Izzy was getting a lot more enjoyable for me. Looked like things weren’t so cut and dry, after all. I certainly had some thinking to do. I needed to learn to have more balance in my life, not make it all about work. Just look at how nice things were when I wasn’t working twenty-four seven.

As if reading my mind, Izzy said, “If you change your mind, you can always come back and take it with you.”

“Thanks.” I stood up and put the book back where it belonged on her shelf, deciding I needed to leave now before I did something stupid.

But she stopped me—“Hey, Bo?”

“Yeah?” I asked, turning back around.

“I had a nice time,” she said softly, a smile coloring her expression.

Something inside of me stirred and I felt it to my very core. This woman, this town, it was all changing me. I never expected any of this. Not after years of being shut off from all human emotion. The worst part, I didn’t mind it. “I did, too,” I returned, acknowledging her words.

There was something about Izzy Monroe that was as bright and special as that great, big Christmas tree she had sitting in her living room. She was like the light to my darkness, the optimism to my realism. In that moment, I knew I liked everything about her, especially the world she lived in, the way she saw it.

Too bad we were from two different worlds and I wasn’t sure I could leave mine. I’d been a resident of it for far too long.

Could I make the change?

Or would I sour her? That was something I never wanted, not for her.

“Goodnight, Izzy,” I said, my thoughts getting to me, and opened her front door with a final wave goodbye.

I wasn’t sure why, but my heart felt heavy. Like I was walking away from my best friend. What was going on with me?