Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
She bit off the arm of the gingerbread and studied him as she slowly chewed. “You’re sure?”
“Positive. Let’s keep shopping.”
The next store carried quilts and other house-type things. Wren admired the detailed stitching of one blanket in particular, and he wondered if it reminded her of her mom. Weighed down by gift bags, he stood beside her. “If you like it, let’s get it.” It wasn’t a Christmas quilt, but she seemed to think it was nice.
She smiled and turned away, moving on to the next display. “I noticed your dad likes the blanket I gave him.” When he looked at her in confusion, she said, “The sapphire plaid one.”
He hadn’t realized that was from her. But she was right, his dad asked for it whenever his legs got cold. “How come you didn’t tell me you visited him in the hospital?”
Wren shrugged and continued perusing the displays. “It didn’t come up.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“No, Greyson. I went to the hospital and just stared at him. What kind of question is that? Of course, I talked to him.”
He frowned, trailing behind as she moved to the other side of the aisle. “What did you two talk about?”
“Reagan.”
“As in Ronald, the past president?”
“Yeah.”
“You visited my dad in the hospital and talked about Ronald Reagan?”
“Why is that so hard for you to believe?”
“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t realize you were a Reagan fan.”
She snorted, a decidedly unladylike sound. “I’m not, but your dad mentioned him once when we were young, so I picked up a biography for him.”
“You bought my dad a book?”
“Well, it was on the shelf at The Haven. A guest probably left it.” She stopped walking and faced him. “Are you mad?”
“No. I’m just trying to picture you there, at the hospital, giving my dad a book.”
“I also gave him a massage.”
“No, you didn’t.” He laughed.
“I did.”
Holy shit, she wasn’t kidding. “You know my dad’s made grown men piss themselves in meetings before.”
“He’s just a man, Greyson.”
Just a man. That was the understatement of the century.
It was dusk by the time they drove home. As the sun slipped behind the mountains, the temperature dropped with it. Christmas lights blinked to life on every rooftop and railing, transforming the town into a constellation at their feet.
“Stop the truck,” Wren called, and he slammed on the brakes. She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned up on the dash to better see out the windshield. “Look how pretty!”
The Wishing Bridge appeared through the falling snow like something from a Christmas card. Ancient stone arches spanned the babbling brook, every surface blanketed in pristine white. Glass mason jars lined the railings, each containing a flickering candle.
Pulling onto the shoulder, he flicked on his hazards so she could get a better look. He stared at her much like she was staring at the bridge.
Turning her enchanted smile on him, she said, “Let’s make a wish!” She was already out of the truck before he could think of an excuse.
Was this his life now, foolish holidays and pennies tossed from whimsical bridges? He thought he hit his superstitious quota for the year, but apparently Wren wasn’t finished.
He slowly followed as Wren’s boots crunched to a stop at the bridge’s center. She gripped the snow-dusted rail with both gloved hands, closing her eyes as if in prayer.
God, she was beautiful.
“I used to come here every Christmas Eve,” she murmured, her voice barely audible above the water’s gentle babbling. “Every year, I’d make a wish. Just one.”
He came to stand beside her as their breath pushed clouds of vapor into the cool air. “What did you wish for?”
She gave him a knowing smile. “At first, I’d wish my mom was still alive. But when I got older, I wished about you.”
“What about me?”
“That you’d see me—really see me.”
He saw her now.
Her head lowered, and she continued, “For years, I just wished you would come home.”
It was amazing how shitty disappointing her could make him feel. He wished he’d been stronger, wished he could take back those times he made her question or doubt herself. The truth was, he simply loved her too much and it scared the hell out of him.
He tightened his hand around her gloved fingers. “I’m sorry, Wren.”
She gave him a sad smile. “We don’t apologize, remember?”
In this case he needed to make amends. He needed her to truly understand how much he regretted ever hurting her. “I should’ve been there for you.”
“You were. More than anyone else.”
He couldn’t remember how many Christmases he’d missed, because to him they were just another day. But to her, they meant something special, a day saved for those she loved.
He owed her and he planned to make it up to her any way he could. “Let’s go home, baby. Show me how to Christmas.”
She noticed the shift in his attitude, and her smile shifted into a happier one. “Really?”