“I hope you all find a reason to heal this season, to feel fulfilled and loved. My holiday wish for everyone is that you can find the things that help you be bold.
“So, whether you’ve got on a peacoat or a puffer coat, I hope you’re wearing a persona that feels comfortable and authentic for you. Thank you so much for letting me show you Coleman Creek. I hope you love it as much as I do.”
Francesca gave a wave to the camera, and there was one last shot of the dogs in Santa hats underneath the Christmas tree before the video faded to black and the “like and subscribe” prompt appeared.
Maureen shut the laptop and turned to me expectantly.
“It’s fantastic,” I said honestly. “I mean, it’s not new or earth-shattering or anything like that, but somehow, it's fresh. And it should be corny, but instead, it feels…relatable. It’s hard to be cynical after watching that.”
“That’s kind of how I felt at first when I finished. I thought it was too sweet, like eating an entire batch of cookies. But that’s because I’m so used to having a side of negative with anything good. Except there’s no way to make this dark. Even the teens wanting to leave, Connor being unenthusiastic about the hot chocolate, dissing Mr. Bailey—” She smiled. “Somehow it all comes out optimistic.”
“Because it’s real,” I said. “And people are going to love it. At least the ones who don’t have cold, dead hearts.”
“From your lips. But I’m going to make, like, five very basic fashion-focused videos in a row after this one. I’m done opening my veins to other people for a while. It doesn’t come easily.”
“I know.” I bumped her shoulder with mine. “And you’re ready for any troll-like comments that come?”
“Like Katy said, ‘the Internet’s gonna Internet.’”
I laughed. “That’s true. The haters can fuck off.”
“All the way off,” she agreed, uploading the video. “And maybe there’ll be some non-haters who like it. Regardless, I needed to make it. For me. And for you.”
That got my attention. “Me?”
“Yes. Obviously, Francesca’s viewers don’t need to know our situation. But when I said I was healing, one thing I was referring to was forgiving you and getting over that anger.” She peered up at me with big eyes. “And when I said I was done throwing up walls, wanting to be my authentic self… Well, I guess you can consider that an invitation.”
My breath caught in my throat until I dared ask, “An invitation to what?”
She twined her five fingers with my three. “Into my life, Will. Behind my armor.” In a small voice, she added, “Please don’t make me regret it.”
I hugged her fiercely to me. “I won’t.”
It was a promise I intended to keep. But watching the video, seeing how far she’d come in dealing with the remnants of her past, made me realize I had some loose threads of my own to tie up.
Suddenly, I knew what to get Maureen for Christmas.
Chapter twenty-five
Maureen
Idrove Will back to Seattle in his car. His head felt better, but I declined his offer to take a shift. The sleek black Audi handled like a dream. When the Christmas station came blasting through the speakers as soon as I turned the key, it reminded me of our night five years ago.
For the first time, the memory was happy and not painful. It had been a magical moment, even if everything had gone to shit afterward.
We planned for me to drop Will off at his place and then catch a rideshare to Bren’s apartment. After I broke the news to my best friend that I’d decided to move home, I’d be ready to have aserious talk with Will about our future. Hopefully, he’d be ready to navigate some distance.
What we said to one another this morning had been a beginning, but there were a lot of variables to consider. Things had been great in Coleman Creek, where we laughed about gingerbread men and strolled through the Holiday Hoopla. But how would our fragile bond fare here, in the epicenter of Will’s life?
In the place where he’d had his accident.
Where the parents he couldn’t fully communicate with lived.
Where he still saw his ex-fiancée.
As though the universe heard my questions, when I drove the Audi from the arterial into Will’s neighborhood, I got another stark reminder that his past would always mark him.
Making a right turn, I jerked the wheel as I nearly collided with a cyclist going in the wrong direction. The woman pushed her bike pedals mindlessly as she came around the corner, weaving in and out of the lanes, oblivious to the fact three cars had to swerve to avoid her.
