Page 77 of The Holiday Hate-Off

For a man my mother would approve of.

But I can’t bring myself to say the words. Not when my lipsare swollen from him, and I can still feel the rasp of his stubble against my legs.

Enzo Cafiero is not a softhearted, biddable man.

He’s definitely not easygoing.

But I can’t deny that I want more of him.

I’ve been enjoying this push-pull between us, and it’ll be hard to release it.

So I say the only thing I know is true. “I love you, Mom. And I miss you so much.” Tears stream down my face, feeling instantly frozen by the chilly air. “I wish I knew you were okay. That somewhere you were okay.”

At that exact moment, snow begins to fall in soft, powdery flakes.

I look up in shock, my heart expanding so much it feels like my entire chest is tight. Reaching out a hand, I catch a few flakes to assure myself they’re real.Of coursethey’re real.

I know it’s probably just a coincidence, but pure happiness unleashes inside of me, and I don’t want to reject it. I want to let myself live in this feeling. To accept this as a sign that my mother is somehow listening.

I want to believe in holiday magic.

Raising my head to the flakes, I stick out my tongue and catch them in my mouth. I laugh, even as a few final tears work down my cheeks, and then I leave the bridge to walk home.

And something even more astounding happens…

The flurries stop as abruptly as they started.

I stare back at the bridge with wide eyes, my entire being arrested.

“Mom?” I ask.

Of course there’s no answer, but when I turn back toward the path, I’m a different person.

It feels like my mother just hugged me, in the only way she still can, and told me it’s all going to be okay.

I’m in such a daze that I plow into someone else who’s headed toward the bridge.

I trip and fall back onto my butt, startled.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” a familiar voice says.

Familiar not because I know her, but because I’ve heard recordings of her voice in dozens of movies.

It’s Amanda Willis, her perfect honey-blonde hair framing her face beneath a dark beanie hat.

She reaches out to help me up, and I take her hand, struck dumb.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“I’m…fine,” I say at last, recovering the ability to speak, thank goodness. “And I’m the one who should be sorry. I bumped into you. I was distracted by the bridge.”

I realize what that sounds like and laugh. “This is going to sound even crazier, but I made a wish, and it started snowing. Was it snowing over here?”

Her eyes widen. “No, not that I noticed, but I’ve been kind of lost in thought too.” She glances past me at the bridge. “You look familiar. Do you work at Love at First Sip?”

I nod quickly. “Yes.”

She smiles warmly at me. “Your boss is the one who told me about this place. Eileen’slovely. She came to see me this morning.”