If only that were true.
“Or both.” He laughed. “Maybe it’s both.”
She stared at him, caught.
“But I’m not sure why?”
She turned away and clenched her jaw, the words she wanted to blurt firmly held behind her teeth. She hadn’t expected him to be so forthright. It threw her for a loop.
A long, awkward pause hung in the air. Lauren’s eyes darted back and forth, searching for a reply that would sound plausible, a neighbor to the truth but definitely not the truth. How did she explain how awkward this was for her? Being here, now, with him? It’s not like she could say, “Well, I have to ruminate on every negative thing about you because if I don’t, I’m likely to fall for you all over again. Oh, yeah, did I fail to mention my crippling crush on you?”
She didn’t dare tell him all the ways she’d dreamed of him and for so many years, and then, when they finally—finally—shared a moment, just the two of them, it was one of the biggest disappointments of her life.
And she was 98% sure he didn’t even remember it. Or worse, he pretended not to.
She supposed that’s what happened when you built a person up. The truth was, she didn’t know Will, not really. She never had. She’d fixated on who she thought he was—made him the person she needed at the time. The reality was such a heartbreaking kick in the teeth, it left her feeling humiliated and ridiculous, and she needed no help feeling either of those things.
Maybe she was being too hard on him. She was acting out of her own experience without cluing him in. It wasn’t fair.
Will glanced over at her several times, and finally said, “I mean, I get why you’re not anxious to go home—and I know we were never friends, but I’m a pretty likable guy. This could even be fun.”
Thankfully, before she could respond, a sign crested over the rise in the road—"El Muérdago.”
Will slowed to twenty-five, then twenty, then fifteen. Lauren could hear the soft crunch of the snow under the tires. She straightened up in her seat and stared. . . El Muérdago was seemingly cut and pasted from the front of a Christmas postcard.
Tiny twinkle lights were draped through the trees surrounding a large lake, and all around the perimeter were glowing luminaries. The road took them into a well-lit area marked “Old Plaza,” where people darted across the street, shopping, laughing, celebrating. A live nativity caught her eye as they drove by, and the store fronts boasted festive displays.
A Santa stood on the corner, ringing a Salvation Army bell, while big wreaths with giant red bows hung from each lamp post.
“Look, tomorrow is a torchlight parade and tree lighting.” Will read one of the many signs detailing the activities that were apparently scheduled for the week. “Not sure what a torchlight parade is, but it sounds festive.”
“But we won’t be here tomorrow,” she said. “Right?”
“I told you,” he smiled, “no plans.”
She groaned. She should’ve taken a bus. She hadn’t because she didn’t want to be at the mercy of a bus schedule, but, as it turned out, being at the mercy of a Will Sinclair schedule was far worse.
“Maybe I can catch a bus back home.”
“You could do that, sure.” he said. “Or you could open your mind to adventure.”
She rolled her eyes as they passed giant, tumbleweed snowmen with sticks for arms; each decorated differently and sponsored by local businesses. A top-hatted formal-wear all-business snowman, a snowman holding a cordless drill and hammer for the hardware store, and perhaps the most eye-catching of all, a snowwoman wearing what appeared to be a biodegradable wedding gown.
“It’s a great little town, right?”
She never would’ve taken him for a lover of Christmas, but he seemed downright giddy about this place, this holiday, and, if she was honest, about life in general. There was a niggle of jealousy at the realization. Lauren had never felt that way. Most days, she woke up focused and ready to work. A day without a plan challenged her, and not in a good way.
They turned into a neighborhood, and she could feel annoyance coursing through her. “Will, what are we doing here? If this is your attempt to try and convince me I need to loosen up, it’s not working. In fact, it’s having the opposite effect.”
He stopped the car in front of a small, white ranch home, its outline strung with colorful lights. A blow-up Santa tilted proudly in the front yard.
“Sorry, I—” He paused. It was like he was trying to tell her something without telling her everything. “I just need to check on something.”