Page 45 of This Christmas
“How old were you?”
“Twelve,” I tell her. “It was when we didn’t come to this party. My parents sat me down and explained everything. Such a crappy year. The one thing my mom always stressed was to keep believing in the magic of it all. Deer Ridge does a good job keeping the overall spirit of the season alive. It’s hard not to believe.”
“New York seems magical, too," Alma states. “The parade looks fun.”
“Wouldn’t know. I spent Thanksgiving in the Hamptons.”
“Did you like it?”
“Um . . . it was different. Being used to one tradition and learning another is an adjustment.”
“Are you going back?”
“No,” I tell Alma with zero hesitation. I glance over the top of her to where Eve sits and smiles, even though she has her head down. I wait, staring like I’m a creeper, for her to look. She finally does and rewards me with a shy grin before going back to whatever she’s working on.
“You know, if you hurt her again, we’re not going to allow you back in town.”
Alma’s words should stun me, but they don’t. “I won’t hurt her.”
“If I were her, I’d make you grovel.”
“And I’m prepared to do so,” I tell her as I go back to wrapping. “I made a mistake. It was costly and hurtful.I let greed and ambition take me away from the person I love. If it takes forever for her to forgive me, so be it.”
“You being here is a huge step in the right direction.”
I laugh, thinking about my plans for the night. “I had a date planned for us. Dinner out and a stroll along Main Street to listen to the carolers.”
“Maybe she’s not ready to be alone with you.”
“Could be.” I chuckle. “But come on, Alma. Look at me. I’m tall, handsome, and I have abs to die for and that V women clamor for. Who wouldn’t want to go out with me?”
Alma’s head turns slowly, her eyes are unreadable. I wink and give her a cocky smirk.
“You’re trouble, Zane. Always have been.”
“You wound me.” I place my hand over my heart and pretend to weep.
Alma points two of her fingers at her eyes and then at me. “Don’t forget it.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I love how protective she is of Evangeline, and Alma’s right to warn me. I can’t mess this up. Not that I want to. These past five years have been a mistake. A costly one at that. Making it up to Evangeline is my priority.
After Alma helps me finish my bow, I pick up my package along with the slip of paper of who it belongs to, and take it over to Santa’s helper.
“Hey,” Eve says when I approach her table.
“Another one down.”
“Thank you.” She takes the slip and writes the child’s name in very elegant script; it’s reminiscent of what Santa himself would do.
“I need to use the restroom.”
She doesn’t even look at me when she speaks. “You’re a big boy, Zane. And you’ve been here before, you know where it is.”
“Eve,” I say her name quietly as I rest my hands on the table and wait for her to look at me. “Can you show me where the restrooms are?” I suspect I’m irritating her, but it’s all for a cause. Well, it’s all for me, and I hope it’s something she will appreciate.
She puts her fancy pen down and pushes back from the table. “Follow me,” she mutters. I do so, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. I know this building like the back of my hand. As a kid, I ran the halls, causing as much chaos as possible. Which means I know where all the hidey holes are.