Page 51 of The Holiday Makeover
I was grateful when Eden showed up so I didn’t go down the shame spiral of the snort heard round the world.
I stood up to greet her. She was just as beautiful in person, if not more so. I loved her dark, wavy hair that somehow looked both tame and wild. And she had the most amazing blue eyes—like seas of glass. There was no other word for her than stunning. She was the kind of woman Tate usually dated, even though she was probably five or six years older than us. Not that age had ever stopped Tate from dating a beautiful woman. I was pretty sure Jessica West was older than him.
I could not think about that. That was another spiral I did not need. And I’d promised Tate I would do my best to believe his feelings for me were real. That he believed I was just as beautiful as the Jessicas and Edens of the world. I mean, I wasn’t—but maybe if I pretended hard enough, I could delude myself into believing it.
“It’s so nice to meet you in person,” I gushed as soon as she arrived at the table.
“Same.” She hugged me.
She smelled like snickerdoodles. I already loved her.
She took a seat across from me, and one of the servers came right over. Normally this was an order-at-the-counter place, and they brought your food out to you. But my grandparents had been friends with the owners for years, and Shirley—one of the owners—told me I’d be getting the red-carpet treatment today and everything was on the house.
No doubt I’d be bringing cinnamon pie home. I felt wholly ripped off that I hadn’t had a single piece of pie on Thanksgiving. I’m pretty sure that’s a crime in some states.
After Eden placed her coffee order and took off her coat and scarf, she reached across and patted my hands. “How are you holding up?”
“Laughing one minute, thinking about something funny Coco said, and then crying the next,” I said honestly.
“That sounds about right. Grief manifests in all forms and sometimes all at the same time.”
I nodded. Truer words had never been spoken.
“And,” she added with a knowing twinkle in her eye, “I hear you have company. How is that going?”
Oh gosh. I knew Tate being in town wouldn’t stay a secret. The fact that we were basically living together—I’d hoped that part might stay under wraps.
It was probably Ginger Bixby from two doors down. She was the neighborhood spy and gossip. As in, she kept binoculars on her windowsill to aid and abet her crimes against privacy. She’d once told my grandparents she’d seen Tate and me doing “dirty” things when we were fourteen, right out in the open where the entire street could see.
Uh, we’d collided going down the hill on our sleds, and Tate had fallen on top of me.
Best. Day. Ever.
I wrote five pages about it in my journal. The whole thing was basically an ode to my unrequited love for Tate. But I just knew we were meant to be together.
I supposed I’d ended up being right. It just took a lot longer to get there than I’d anticipated.
I really hoped I was right about him. About us.
Was I a fool to give him a second chance? Could we really be each other’s homes?
“Oh, it’s going,” I sang.
Eden laughed. “I shouldn’t pry, but your love life was a big topic of discussion during dance class.”
“I bet it was,” I sighed, only slightly embarrassed. I loved Coco and all her quirks so much that I could never be irritated with her. Ever. She’d dedicated her entire life to me. When she and Grandpa should have been traveling the world as a retired couple, they were raising me. They gave up their golden years for me.
“She was just sure you and Tate Ryder would get back together. She used to show us highlight reels of the two of you and say things like, Look at the way he looks at her, and Isn’t my granddaughter the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”
Dang it. The tears were back, stinging my eyes.
Eden handed me a napkin. “I’m sorry, I’m making you cry.”
“It’s not you. I just miss her so much, and it’s her fault Tate is here.”
Eden grinned. “Why does that not surprise me?”
I dabbed the corners of my eyes. “She was bound and determined to get her way, even from the grave.”
