“Nope,” Tina singsongs. “Holly and I got everything! Please, everyone, sit. Let’s eat while it’s hot.”
We fall into easy conversation, and Lincoln tells us stories from the hospital. The table is howling with laughter as Tim pivots into a tale of him and his buddy shoveling snow out of some neighbor’s driveway when his friend slipped and seemingly fell in slow motion like a cartoon character. It was all fun and games until Tim revealed they had to call an ambulance for a broken tailbone, and then Lincoln went into full doctor mode, peppering his dad with questions.
As Lincoln speaks, I find myself daydreaming about a potential life with him. It’s easy to envision myself in this family, but I can’t see Lincoln as anything other than a friend. He’s attractive, but not in the ‘I want to rip his clothes off’ type of way. More in the ‘I’m proud to call him my hot best friend’ kind of way.
Shaking away the thought, I turn my attention to the picturesque scene through the window adjacent to where I sit and watch snowflakes fall. It truly is a winter wonderland just beyond the glass. A white Christmas.
“Looks like the snow is picking up again.” Tina touches my arm, pulling my focus back to the table. “I’d feel much better if you slept here tonight, if you’re comfortable with it. You shouldn’t be out on the roads after dark in weather like this.”
“Oh! I really can’t stay…” my voice trails off as I look out the window again. “I’ll be okay, but thank you so much.”
“If you change your mind, the offer stands.” She pats my arm again before picking up her fork.
“I appreciate it.”
We finish our meals, and it’s the most full I’ve felt, in both my stomach and my heart, in months.
“Let’s wait a while for dessert, dear. I can’t breathe at the moment,” Tim tells Tina as she begins clearing dishes from the table. He lets out a long breath, as though that will help make some room.
“Yes, I was thinking maybe in thirty minutes or so.” She squeezes his shoulder.
“Excellent.”
“I’m so sorry, I have to take this—it’s the hospital,” Lincoln tells us, looking down at his vibrating phone. He pushes to his feet and hurries out of the room.
“Can I help?” I offer Tina, who’s now on her second trip to the kitchen.
“No thanks, sweetheart, you go relax. I enjoy doing dishes. It’s my ‘me’ time.”
Tim’s already moved to his recliner and is settling in. Looking out the window again, I get the crazy urge to go enjoy the snow. I hardly ever see it—it’s not like it snows in San Diego.
“I’m going to go for a short walk,” I tell Lincoln’s mom as I grab my puffer jacket from the coatrack. Taking my beanie from the pocket, I tug it onto my head, then shrug on my jacket.
“Be careful out there, sweetheart, the snow can pick up fast,” she mothers, and it simultaneously warms my heart and shatters it.
“Will do, don’t worry about me. I won’t be gone long. Just want to walk off dinner a little.”
“Sounds like a plan. Make some room for dessert.”
“Be back soon.”
Zipping my jacket, I pull open the front door and step outside. The cold air kisses my cheeks and the tip of my nose, as frosty flurries rain down around me. Pulling my beanie down a little further, I cross my arms and start walking, deciding to go in the direction of the tree farm I passed on my way here.
Chapter Nine
The soft flakes fall lightly around me as my boots leave indentations in the snow cover with every step. It takes about two minutes of being outside of the Stokes home before grief settles into the depths of my bones and pulls me under.
Tears stream down my face as I walk, and I will them to go away, silently begging for them to give me a break just thisonetime.
I don’t want to be sad.
I want to bask in the merriment of the holiday and enjoy my time with the wonderful family who invited me into their home.
But grief is a double-edged sword, cutting deep with the smallest of thoughts.
Blowing out a shaky breath, I wipe at the tears and pull myself together in the last few steps it takes me to reach the Christmas tree farm.
Forcing myself to focus on the perfect Christmas postcard scenery instead of the anguish brewing inside, I stop just before the entrance and take it all in.
