Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
I ducked away and went in search of a bucket or something similar to fill the stands. They all had dishes for the water built in, and I wish I’d thought to bring something with me to fill them up, even if it was empty water bottles.
If only I could think straight.
I couldn’t get Thomas’ expression out of my mind. That very moment when I’d said I didn’t hate him and had forgiven him, it was like he’d been punched in the stomach and had a belt whipped across his cheek.
But how?
Had he really not known?
Had the truth of the matter truly upset him? I hadn’t realised that he genuinely thought I wasn’t over it, nor had I ever assumed that me telling him the truth would be so momentous that it could hurt his feelings.
I thought me bringing the whole thing up and messing with him was a bit of light teasing. A good-natured ribbing, if you will. The staple of all good relationships, romantic and platonic.
It was twenty years ago, for the love of God.
Was there something Thomas wasn’t telling me?
We were friends. No matter what I said, I thought we were friends, and I’d assumed that he thought the same. Assuming got you nowhere, of course, except for making you look like a complete idiot, and maybe that’s where I was at right now.
I certainly felt like one.
I was too tired to deal with this right now. I knew the adult thing to do was to speak to him about it, but I just wanted to get these stupid trees in their stupid holders and go home to bed.
I didn’t care that it wasn’t even seven p.m. yet.
I was a ninety-year-old in a thirty-year-old body, and if I wanted to be in bed before nine o’clock at night, I was bloody well going to be.
I sourced a bucket in one of the bathrooms. I wasn’t even going to think about what it might have been used for, but my gloves were going straight in the laundry basket when I got home.
I rinsed out the bucket, then filled it and carried it through to the hall towards the sound of a chainsaw roaring through the air. Given the mood he was in, I wasn’t sure it was wise to leave Thomas with a potentially deadly weapon, never mind me.
Alas, he already had it.
I was just going to have to keep my mouth shut.
I wasn’t exactly the best at doing that, especially where he was concerned.
What could I say? The man wound me up like hell.
In related news, now would be a good time for a Christmas miracle.
I walked around and poured water in each of the bases, leaving him to his chainsaw business. I had to fill the bucket up a few times, but it was a surprisingly good workout that made me so warm I almost considered taking off my hat.
Almost.
I wasn’t quite that insane.
It took us around an hour to cut all the tree trunks and get them situated and secured in the stands where they were supposed to go. I hated to admit it, but the room already looked a thousand times better than it did before. I could barely imagine how amazing it would look when everything was decorated and ready for the actual wedding.
Sigh.
It was a ridiculous amount of money on trees, but somehow, it made a lot more sense when I saw some of it in action. Hazel’s vision really was something.
“Is that it done?” Thomas asked, pulling his gloves off and wiping his hands together.
I nodded. “Thanks for that. You didn’t need to. Julian could have done it.”
“Now there’s a video I’d have paid to watch,” he replied, grabbing his coat. “Are you all done here?”
“I think so.” I cast my gaze around the room, then nodded once more. “All done for now. I’ll have to call Cassandra to arrange decorating them and ask Hazel where all the decorations are, but yes. Thank you for doing all that.”
I wrapped my arms around my waist and dipped my chin, taking a deep breath.
“Are you going straight home?” he asked.
I peered up at him. “Yes.”
“I’ll follow you home. It’s still snowing out there, and I don’t want you getting stuck.” He picked up the chainsaw and walked towards the door, barely looking at me.
I picked up my bag and phone from one of the tables and rushed after him, only just avoiding one huge puddle from melted snow that had been trudged in. “You don’t need to follow me back. Gramps’ truck will manage just fine.”
“I’d still feel better knowing you were home safely in this weather.” He held open the door for me, fixing me with a firm look. “Don’t argue with me, Sylvie. For once in your life.”
I clenched my jaw. “Fine. But don’t think I’m going to wave to you when I get there.”