Page 48 of The Holiday Makeover

“Feel free to talk about her. I’m here for you.”

“I appreciate that, but . . . I want to talk about you.”

I took a sip of the hot chocolate, letting the heat burn a path down my throat. I knew this was probably going to get uncomfortable. But hadn’t I told her I wanted to be better? Though I wasn’t sure I was ready for her to go full Oprah on me out here on a frozen hill. My lungs burned with every attempt to breathe. I already felt like an idiot for how much I’d opened up in the kitchen earlier. Vulnerability wasn’t exactly my strong suit.

But for her I had to try. I wanted to try.

I swallowed slowly before saying, “What do you want to talk about?”

She snuggled closer, which meant I really wasn’t going to like what she was about to say, but I wouldn’t complain if it meant having her tucked in by my side. I’d missed her there.

“Well, it’s just that I don’t think you should give up on Aspen Lake.”

I inadvertently groaned.

She gently elbowed me. “Hear me out before you start grumbling.”

I laughed and kissed the top of her beanie without thinking. It was too easy to fall back into old habits. It was easy to fall back into her. “Okay, lay it on me.”

“See, I think you’re wrong about Aspen Lake. Whether or not you want to believe it, people love you here.”

“You obviously didn’t see the dirty looks I received in The Market a few days ago,” I countered. “People think I cheated on you.”

“Yeah, well, people think I cheated on you, and that’s why you left. You should read some of the nasty messages I’ve received,” she ground out. “And let’s not forget all the comments people would leave on our videos about how I wasn’t pretty enough for you. Or how you could do better than me.”

Comments like that always made my temper flare. And I hated how much they hurt her. “Who in the hell would ever think that? They’re wrong. Dead wrong. You’re beautiful. Don’t listen to those jerks.”

“That’s good advice. You should take it,” she sang, like a mic drop.

Well . . . dang. She got me there.

“Tate, I’m not saying it’s easy to ignore what people say about you or even think about you. Obviously, I had a hard time with it and still do. And I made choices because of it. Choices that affected us.”

She shifted a little, her voice trailing off.

“But Coco used to say sometimes you just have to be okay with people being wrong about you. I probably should have listened to that advice a little harder. Like you said, what do they know? And what do they really know about you, Tate? And I mean, really know about you?”

All I could think about was my failures.

Rory had other ideas.

She sat up and faced me, her gorgeous face barely peeking through her beanie and scarf. Even in the dark, I could see how red her cheeks were from the cold. She set aside her mug of cocoa and placed her gloved hands on my face, making sure I had her full attention.

Believe me, she had it.

“All these people, maybe even your parents—they don’t know you,” she said fiercely. “They don’t know the guy who helped me pass algebra in the seventh grade. Or the guy who took a red-eye when Grandpa Sam died just so he could fly home with me to hold my hand. And they certainly don’t know the guy who makes chicken soup when I’m sick. And they know nothing about how every Christmas you play Santa anonymously for as many needy families as you can. Because you don’t want that to be about you.”

She brushed her gloved thumbs across my cheeks. “These are the things that matter, Tate. The things people don’t always see because they can’t or they choose not to. Regardless, I think you’d be surprised how many people in town see that man. You don’t think Mrs. Schwartz down the street remembers all the summers you mowed her lawn for free? Or that even though you were the most popular boy in school, you were kind to everyone. Even us band geeks.” She smirked. “And when you got your state championship trophy, you gave it to Jared, the water boy.”

Jared had Down syndrome. I loved that guy. He was funny and always happy. And Rory wasn’t some band geek as she said. Everyone loved her. She was like the unofficial school mascot and everyone’s friend. But she did it quietly. Never for show.

“You don’t think he remembers that?” She grinned. “I know he does because I ran into his mom last year and it’s all she could talk about. Jared still has that trophy proudly displayed in his room.”

“I didn’t know that,” I whispered.

“Well, now you do.” She patted my cheeks and let her hands drop.

I took her hands right back up into my own and held them between mine, unwilling to be without her touch for even a second. I’d already wasted too much time.