Once they were gone, I sent a text to Charlie.
Me: How did Harper do at school?
Charles: You should ask her yourself. She wants to know where you are.
Me: Can’t you just tell me that she’s okay?
Charles: No, Firefly. That’s not how this works. You don’t get to hide and just check in from a distance. She loves you. That doesn’t work for her. I love you. That doesn’t work for me either.
Me: Did she stay all day at school?
I chewed on my thumbnail while I waited for a response.
Nothing. Nada. Crickets.
Me: You’re a stubborn ass, Charlie Huxley.
Charles: Damn straight, woman. Get used to it. I’m in for the long haul. The question is, are you?
I groaned as I walked to the bedroom and opened the top drawer to get some fuzzy socks, so I could climb back in bed and hide under the covers.
I dug through the drawer, felt something weird, and pulled it out.
I stared down at Clementine Claus Huxley, the Elf on a Shelf who had run me off the first time. There was a note tied to her hand, and I read it.
Next time you want to run ... remember ... I’m not a serial killer. I’m just a man who loves a woman, Firefly.
When had he put this in my drawer? Was it the night that he told me he loved me? Sometime after that?
I sat down on my bed and hugged that ridiculous elf against my chest. I realized something then. I was so used to being let down that every time anything went wrong, I was prepared for the worst.
I’d never been loved the way Charlie Huxley loved me. And even though fear seemed to be in the driver’s seat of my life sometimes, at the end of the day, I knew one thing to be true.
I am just a woman who loves a man and his little girl. And that is enough.
I quickly tucked Clementine back in my drawer, because the last thing I needed to do was out the Elf on a Shelf and kill Harper’s Christmas dreams.
The poor girl already had a cast covering half her arm.
I slipped on my tennis shoes and glanced in the mirror. I was still wearing my flannel jammies, my hair was a wild mess, and my eyes were still puffy from all the tears I’d shed over the last twenty-four hours.
But as I stared at my reflection, I smiled.
Because Charlie Huxley loved me no matter how I looked, or what I wore.
He loved me no matter how irrational I was. The highs and the lows ... He’d stayed and fought for us.
I was the one who had been too scared to just say sorry and ask for forgiveness.
I was out the door and jogging toward his house. I needed the fresh air.
“Hey, Vi. You all right?” Charlotte from Blushing Blooms called out as she walked down the street toward me, looking at me like I had three heads.
“Yep. Never better!” I shouted and waved as I passed her.
I turned the corner and ran the next two blocks all the way to Charlie’s house. I banged on the door, because I’d forgotten my key when I ran out.
He pulled the door open, and his lips turned up in the corners.
