Page 12 of This Christmas

“What are you doing here?” My question is barely above a whisper.

By the look on his face, he understands the underlying message of my question. “Reindeer Ridge Farm is the best place to get a tree, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You know what I mean.”

Another door slams shut, pulling me from this stupor. I don’t bother to look at Zane. I can’t. Having him here now is doing a number on my nervous system. Not to mention my tongue feels thick. I have anger boiling in my blood. And my damn palms are sweaty like they did when I had a crush on him back when I was in middle.

I step around him and stop in my tracks when a woman comes near. She’s wearing high heels to buy a damn tree. Not only the shoes, but a damn pencil skirt.

Freaking city people.

“Welcome. Have a look around. Let me know if you find something you like.”

“Babe, did you find out?”

I turn slowly as she makes her way toward Zane. Only, he’s not watching her. He’s watching me. I shake my head and start to turn toward the shack, but not before I see her stumble and fall. His whatever she is, screeches as she hits the mud-covered ground.

SIX

ZANE

Yesterday, when my dad casually mentioned Evangeline, I knew I’d end up at Reindeer Ridge Farm. I hadn’t even set out to bring Caryn here. In fact, I planned to avoid this place at all costs. Yet, as I started driving and Caryn mentioned something about shopping, it was like my mind immediately turned my SUV in the direction of the Christmas tree farm nestled between two covered bridges.

I don’t know why I didn’t think about the consequences of seeing Evangeline again. Not only to her, and how I left things, but to me as well. Leaving her was the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life, and at night when I can’t sleep, I grapple with what I did to her.

And what I’d done to us.

I promised her I’d be home every Thursday and didn’t even make it the first week without breaking my promise. Same with the second and soon. After a month, she stopped taking my calls, packed my shit and took it back to my dad’s. And then she did the ultimate kiss off and changed her number. The day I called her expecting to get her voicemail, I got nothing. My calls failed and my text messages went from blue to green.

Not letting this deter me, I went to our apartment in Boston and waited outside for her to come home. Hours later, I finally knocked on the door, only to have a guy answer.

“No one by that name lives here,” he told me.

“How long have you lived here?”

“A couple of weeks.”

Evangeline had moved. She left the apartment we had fallen in love with because of my actions. There wasn’t anything I could do. I had no idea where she went, and I knew her parents weren’t going to tell me. I took my sorry ass back to New York City, asked Mr. Bamford if he had any pull to transfer my last class to Columbia—he did—and I buckled down, working my tail off to get a job offer from him.

The times I spoke to my dad it was clear he was angry at me for what I had done. I didn’t blame him. I deserved it. After a while, I would call once a month, then once every couple of months. He never asked about graduation and genuinely didn’t seem to care. Deep down, I knew this wasn’t true, that I wore rose-colored glasses because Mr. Bamford took me under his wing and showed a small-town kid exactly what the big city offered.

Now, here I am, watching my ex whenmy thoughts should be on my fiancée. It’s like everything happens in slow motion. Caryn’s voice is muffled, like she’s underwater, while Ev’s is crystal clear. Ever the professional, Evangeline greets her newest visitor just as Caryn makes it known she’s with me. The look my ex gives me turns my insides to stone. Again, deserving. If I were Evangeline, I’d kick me off the property, but she would never embarrass her parents or the farm like that. Besides, I was the ass for showing up here. I knew better.

I can’t take my eyes off Eve as she stalks past me, giving me a death glare. I miss when Caryn slips in the mud, falling on her rear. Her legs splay out in front of her, while her tight skirt keeps her legs pinned to the ground. I don’t know how long it takes me to realize she’s on the ground, her backside and hands covered in mud, but it’s long enough for Caryn to give me her version of a death glare.

Honestly, I should probably walk off into the sunset at this point.

When I look back on today, it’s going to be one of those moments where I learned to do the right thing. The problem is, doing the right thing may also end up being the wrong thing.

As fast as my feet take me, I’m by Caryn’s side. Tears of anger and humiliation stream down her face.

“Are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?” she snaps.

“I didn’t mean?—”

“Why is there mud? Where’s the pavement?”