Mistletoe Season by Michelle Major

CHAPTER NINETEEN

GABESATINthe darkened living room later that night, the only light coming from the tree Angi, her mother, and Andrew had brought to him earlier that week.

The wind whistled around the windowpanes and down the chimney of the fireplace original to the house. If he was staying in Magnolia and his grandmother’s property belonged to him, there were so many things he’d do to modernize and update it.

He wished he’d made time to visit Gran and take care of some of those tasks. Although Magnolia stayed relatively mild, drafts seeped from under the doorways and through the corners of windows on colder nights, and the furnace in the basement should have been replaced years ago.

How had his grandma kept warm here at night on her own?

She’d never complained or given him any reason to think she needed help.

He should have known anyway.

Now it was of no consequence because it was only a matter of time before his mother showed up.

Even if he could buy the place from her—and he had no doubt she’d inflate the value if she had any idea how much he wanted it—he didn’t want to live in the same town. She tended to suck him in with her dark judgment, and he’d always been afraid he might turn as bitter and miserable as her if they spent too much time together.

His phone dinged, and he grabbed it from the coffee table.

He smiled at Angi’s face on his home screen. He’d taken the photo of her at one of the holiday events downtown, capturing her easy smile at a candid moment when she hadn’t known he was looking.

Are you home?

Yes. Enjoying the tree.

Do you want to build a snowman?

He chuckled as he glanced out of the window to the dark night. It might be cold and windy in Magnolia, but the sky was clear. No chance of snow.

Is that a trick question?

Come out front.

Anticipation squeezed his chest as he levered himself off the couch. He opened the front door to reveal Angi at the curb next to her car, surrounded by several grocery bags.

“You know the doorbell works,” he called.

She beckoned him to her. “I didn’t want to unpack the car if you weren’t home.”

He walked forward, not bothering with shoes. His feet stung as they hit the cold concrete of the front walk, and he thought about the physical discomfort he’d dealt with in the military. How that had been easy compared to the way his heart now seemed to constantly ache.

“Where else would I be?”

She studied him for a moment, brushing her long hair away from her face when the wind whipped at it. She wore a knee-length corduroy skirt with boots and a heavy canvas jacket with a bright red scarf tied around her neck.

“I don’t know where you might be spending your time,” she told him. “Because you’ve been avoiding me.”

“The dance is tomorrow night, Ang. We’ve both been busy.”

Something like disappointment flashed in her dark eyes, and he felt a chill chase through him that had nothing to do with the outside temperature.

“That’s why I’m here.” She smiled so broadly he thought maybe he’d mistaken the previous emotion. “We have one more project to finish.”

He glanced at the grocery bags. “The mill looks amazing. I stopped by this afternoon. There’s not a thing that could be added.”

“Snowmen,” she said. “You can’t have a winter wonderland dance without snowmen.”

“I think you could,” he said, even as he leaned over the trunk and pulled out two large shopping bags. “We’ll have a very successful dance without snowmen.”

“Except it would be like a sundae with no cherry on top.” She shut the trunk and picked up the bags she’d left on the ground. “Cherries are the best part.”

“You seem especially happy tonight.”

“I’m glad you think so,” she answered, which wasn’t exactly the same as agreeing with him.

“Am I wrong?” He glanced over his shoulder as he led the way toward the house. “How did Sarah Beth do the other day? I’m sure you left her with detailed instructions. I dropped off the flowers early that morning, but she wouldn’t let anyone into the kitchen.”

“Because she was trying to figure out how to get rid of the food that had gone bad. It was all ruined.”

Gabe stopped on the bottom step of the porch. “What are you talking about?”

“Let’s get this stuff in the house and I’ll tell you. It’s freezing out here.”

He led the way toward the kitchen and listened as she explained the near disaster of the last big wedding they’d hosted. “You had to swoop in and save the day once again?”

She placed the bags on the table. “I wouldn’t exactly call it saving since the fact I walked away caused the mess in the first place.”

“You did what you had to do,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” she agreed with a sigh. “We all do. But I fixed it, along with my mom and Dom.”

“Your mom helped cater an event at the inn?”

Angi wrinkled her nose. “I was as shocked as you, but she said she didn’t want me to feel like I’d failed Emma. I know she loves me and wants the best, even if we don’t agree on what that is. I was secretly freaking out, so I’m grateful to her.”

“You should have called me,” he told her, frustration settling over him that she’d needed something and he hadn’t been there for her.

“We had it covered,” she told him, another lance to his heart. “But I need your help with snowmen, so here I am.”

“Okay, then.” With how he’d been acting lately, he supposed he should be grateful she was willing to let him in in any way. She pulled out her laptop and they watched an instructional video on making homemade snowmen while he poured two glasses of wine.

As he began to assemble the crafts, something he never imagined himself doing, Gabe felt a sense of contentment wash through him. The exact reason he’d avoided Angi in the first place. It was one thing to want her physically, but his feelings for her went way beyond desire.

They continued working in easy silence until the entire counter was filled with a line of various sizes of snow people staring at them. The biggest were nearly two feet tall, with smaller ones, as well. They all had bright orange noses cut from felt and cheery red scarves around their cotton batting necks.

“I’ll bring them over to the mill bright and early,” he told her as they cleaned up the leftover supplies. “They turned out better than I thought.”

“I think they’re perfect,” she said with a proud smile, like she was looking at her own children.

He shifted closer to her and spoke into her hair. “Kind of like you.”

She didn’t pull away as he’d expected with how distant he’d been since his grandmother’s death. Instead, she turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. “What if I told you the snowmen were a ruse to have an excuse to see you alone?”

He stilled. There was no way she’d make an effort like that, not for someone like him.

“Alone,” she continued, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his jaw. She breathed deeply, as if she craved the scent of him. “And with a big bed just up the stairs.”

“What about Princess?” Gabe remained completely still, afraid to break the connection between them or remind her in some way that he didn’t deserve her attention or her affection.

“She’s settled in. Sleeps every night at the foot of Drew’s bed. He’s her person,” she told him with a small smile.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice hoarse.

She laughed low in her throat. “You just compared yourself to a dog.”

He made a growling noise and then lifted her into his arms. “I’ll be whatever you need,” he told her as he carried her up to his room, hoping that would be enough.

ANGISTOODINthe center of the old factory and spun in a slow circle, hardly able to believe what they’d pulled off in the space. It truly looked like something even Santa would be proud of—colorful lights, boughs of holly adorning the walls, along with the snowmen families placed as centerpieces on the tables that surrounded the dance floor. The band stood on the stage that Gabe had found, tuning instruments. She could see people crowding around the hot chocolate bar and enjoying steaming bowls of chili and soup from the food truck that had set up shop in the parking lot.

They had created a winter wonderland.

She turned at the sound of a joyful squeal. Carrie and Dylan stood near the entrance, the graceful artist’s big gray eyes wide with wonder.

“It’s better than I imagined,” Carrie said as she rushed toward Angi.

“Slowly,” Dylan said, placing a gentle hand on her arm.

“You came.” Angi was shocked and delighted. “I thought...”

“Just for a few minutes,” Carrie said. Color infused her cheeks, but there were still dark circles shadowing her eyes. On the few occasions Angi had seen or talked to the other woman, Carrie downplayed her illness, but Dylan wasn’t shy about making sure everyone knew that his wife should be called only in an outright emergency due to her focus on staying healthy.

“I’m fine, Dylan.” She looked at the haughty developer with such tenderness it made Angi’s breath catch in her throat.

That’s what she wanted in a relationship. Someone she could look at with unabashed adoration. A man she didn’t have to make up excuses—like an entire snowman craft project—to see.

“I think you’ve started a tradition,” Carrie said, turning to Angi. “The town is going to expect a holiday dance every year.”

“We’re raising money for a great cause,” Angi answered. “And it wasn’t too much trouble.”

Dylan threw back his head and laughed, which seemed more than a little out of character. “How much time did it take you to make all of the snowflakes?” He pointed to the flurry of paper cutouts fluttering above them. “It’s a regular blizzard of paper snowflakes.”

Angi felt color creep up her throat. The snowflakes, like the snowmen, were a somewhat last-minute addition to the decor. She’d needed something to keep herself occupied once she had the falling-out with Gabe. Knowing he didn’t feel for her what she did for him somehow only made her yearn for him more.

So she’d spent far too many sleepless nights cutting out snowflakes at her mother’s kitchen table to prevent herself from reaching out to him. To dull the ache in her heart that had only seemed to ease when she’d finally gone to his house and he’d taken her into his arms.

Now she could at least take comfort that her silly way of passing the time had resulted in something magical. There was a lesson in that somewhere, but at this point Angi was too frazzled to discern it.

“I had fun with it,” she said, which was somewhere between the truth and a big fat lie.

“We appreciate you.” Carrie gave her a gentle hug, and Angi felt the delicate bones of the other woman’s shoulders. “The festival wouldn’t have been the same without your help.”

“I was glad to help,” Angi said. “Gabe and I both were.”

“You make a shockingly good team,” Dylan told her with another chuckle, which died instantly as Carrie winced. “What is it?”

“I’m fine.” Carrie smiled, but the corners of her mouth looked tight. “In addition to everything else, I have sciatica. It’s all worth it, but I’ll be happy when this baby arrives.” She cradled her still-flat stomach. “We should go before more people arrive. I’m not up for a lot of socializing tonight.”

“Thank you for coming by.” Angi squeezed Carrie’s hands. “I’ll take lots of pictures and text them to you. It will be like you’re here, only without people stepping on your toes or having to hear the Macarena.”

“You’re not seriously doing line dances?” Dylan made a face.

“Meredith requested it,” Angi said.

Carrie laughed and took her husband’s hand. “Of course she did. Merry Christmas, Angi. I hope all your holiday wishes come true.”

Angi kept the smile on her face even though she was afraid none of her wishes would come true. She supposed it was time to start wishing for other things.

TWOHOURSLATER, the dance was in full swing, and Angi felt as if her heart might burst from a combination of happiness and pride, mixed with just a touch of melancholy. She’d done it—along with Gabe.

It seemed like nearly the whole town had come out for the event. Couples young and old mixed on the dance floor, everyone smiling and laughing. Angi Guilardi, who had only ever waitressed in her family’s restaurant, had finally stepped out of the long shadow of her last name.

That accounted for the pride and the happiness from finally feeling like she had a place in this community. The melancholy...well. Her gaze sought out Gabe, who stood on the other side of the room talking to Cam Arlinghaus and Ryan Sorensen, who was Emma’s brother and Meredith’s fiancé.

Gabe smiled at something Ryan said, although even from this distance Angi could see it didn’t reach his eyes. He ran a hand through his thick hair, and she wondered if she was the only one who saw the lines of tension bracketing his mouth or the faint shadows under his eyes.

Who would look after him when he left Magnolia? Would he easily find another woman to make him smile and to push him so he didn’t revert to his loner habits?

She forced herself to look away. What Gabe did when he left town was none of her business. Christmas was drawing nearer, and after that they would stage a fake breakup and go their separate ways.

The thought made her chest burn.

“Why does this scene remind me of all of our high school dances?”

Angi suppressed a groan as Sara and her bestie, Abigail Johnson, the mom of Johnny Rotten, approached wearing twin sneers. From what she’d heard from Andrew, Johnny had left him and the other kids alone since the scout activity. Maybe the boy had learned something from his father leaving, and although Angi wouldn’t wish sadness on a child, she was relieved to have her son not being a target.

“Watered-down punch and the smell of sweat?” she asked conversationally, in no mood to take a trip down memory lane with these two former friends.

“Ew,” Sara muttered, pursing her glossy lips. “It’s familiar because you’re standing alone with no one to ask you to dance.” Sara gave a snide little giggle as she patted Abigail on the arm. “Remember how we let the cannoli princess tag along with our group because her parents always gave us free dinner beforehand?”

Angi drew in a deep breath. She remembered how it had felt to know that the people she considered her best friends were using her for their gain. She’d always been aware—even when she couldn’t admit it out loud—that the popular group kept her around because she was useful. Even after she’d lost the weight and grown into her looks, they’d still seen her as a means to an end.

At that point, it had seemed worth it. Oh, if she could go back and make a different choice—to be able to give the knowledge and experience of the person she was now to the girl she’d been.

“God, I loved your dad’s meatballs,” Abigail said, the words suffusing Angi with another layer of bitterness. Her parents had been so generous with her group of friends, thrilled to see their often awkward daughter fitting in. Too bad it had all been fake.

“I hope you both are having a good time tonight,” she said, deciding not to rise to Sara’s bait. The woman had always been as mean as a snake, and a master at hiding her cruelty behind soft words and a few well-chosen bless-your-hearts. “Abigail, I was sorry to hear about your divorce.”

“Temporary separation,” Abigail muttered immediately. “Jack will be back. He just needs to sow a few oats. You know how that goes.”

“Not really.” Angi shook her head. “But I understand that issues within the family can be difficult for kids. I hope Johnny is past his acting out. Andrew wants to get along with everyone in his class.”

Abigail’s complexion mottled with ugly splotches of color. “I hope that you aren’t comparing my son to your strange little boy. Johnny has a father and friends. He’s not a misfit.”

Strange. Misfit. Angi swallowed back her anger. “Andrew is kind and has a big heart.” She took a step closer to Abigail, her patience at an end. She’d tried turning the other cheek and encouraging her son to do the same. Now she realized that part of wanting Andrew to fit in or try to play nice was left over from her own childhood insecurities. She felt bad about her situation and hadn’t wanted him to make waves.

It was past time she stop playing small. “I don’t give a damn if Jack sows his oats from here to Pensacola. Nothing about the situation excuses you or your son or anyone in your family from being mean. It ends now.”

“Calm down, Ang,” Sara said with a nervous laugh. “People are starting to stare. I know that Italian temper is cute, but...”

“This isn’t my temper talking.” Angi cut a glare to Sara that had her taking a step back. “I should have stood up to the two of you years ago. Just like Andrew stood up to your son when he was behaving like a bully. I don’t give a rat’s behind what happened when we were in high school or what you think you know about me. I’m not the same girl I was back then, and it’s pathetic that grown women still play the sort of petty popularity games you tried to win as kids. Grow up, both of you.” She leaned in toward Abigail. “Keep your kid away from mine. This is our issue now, and you don’t want to take me on.”

“You promised me a dance, Angi.”

She rolled her shoulders and turned to Gabe, who was standing just behind her, his eyes dancing with amusement.

“RPC is overset at the moment,” Sara said smoothly. “She might need a breather to collect herself. Perhaps you’d be a gentleman and dance with me, Gabriel?” Her smile turned sickly sweet as she held out a hand. “My husband, bless his heart, had a late meeting tonight so I’m here all on my own.”

As Abigail sucked in great gulps of air, obviously trying to calm herself, Sara turned her back fully on her friend. Clearly Abigail was a liability at the moment, part of the scene Angi had created. She could feel the weight of curious gazes but couldn’t quite bring herself to care. What she did care about, however, was the thought of Gabe choosing Sara in this moment.

Angi forced her chin to tip up and met his gaze, hoping that none of the rioting emotions swirling through her could be seen in her eyes. Of course he would walk away with Sara. It was the perfect revenge for the way Angi had turned on him all those years ago.

The amusement was gone from his storm-cloud eyes, replaced by a bone-deep knowledge of what this moment meant.

The worst part was she couldn’t even blame him. She deserved to be left behind with a whole crowd to witness her humiliation. This would be the perfect and most believable way to end their fake attachment, because there was no way—for all the Christmas magic at the North Pole—Angi could pretend after Gabe danced with Sara.

She lifted her brows ever so slightly in silent challenge. Do it, she wanted to scream. Turn on me the way I turned on you.

His broad shoulders rose and fell in a slow breath, and then he flicked a glance at Sara and her outstretched hand before offering his to Angi.

“I believe this dance is ours,” he said, his voice a low rumble. As if everyone around them wasn’t listening. As if she was the only person who mattered.

Angi only realized she’d been holding her breath when it blew out on a shaky exhalation. She barely registered the gasp of disbelief and subsequent whispered cruelty that Sara dispensed. It was as if she’d been plugging a dam of emotions and Gabe’s words and actions had yanked her finger out of the hole.

Love poured through Angi like a wave, and she placed her trembling fingers in his hand. “Every dance is ours,” she told him.

Right then she decided to hell with pretend. She had fallen for this man with her entire heart, and she wasn’t going to let him go.

As he led her onto the dance floor, the music shifted to “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” crooned by the female vocalist’s smooth alto.

The past few weeks had changed Angi and her idea of home, what it could mean to her. To a woman who’d learned a hard lesson about not being able to count on a man, Gabe and his steady presence in her life—in Andrew’s life—had been a revelation. She could count on him in the most important way possible. She could count on him with her heart.

“Thank you,” she said as she wrapped her arms around Gabe’s neck.

He pulled her close, and they swayed to the music along with dozens of other couples. The scene with the two other women was ostensibly forgotten by the onlookers since it afforded no juicy town gossip.

Angi would always remember that Gabe had chosen her.

“It would put a damper on the festive mood if the creative genius behind the event got in a fistfight as the main attraction. Can’t have you hogging all the attention.”

She leaned back enough to look into his eyes. They were once again bright with amusement, but Angi wasn’t going to let him make light of what was between them.

Not anymore.

“You’re a better person than I was back in the day,” she admitted. “The moment that I turned away from you is still the biggest regret I have.” She gave a small laugh. “And it’s a long list.”

“No regrets,” he told her, brushing a thumb over her cheek and leaving a trail of sparks in the wake of his touch.

“Will you come to my mom’s for Christmas?” Angi asked. They hadn’t spoken about plans for the holidays or the future in general. Other than specific arrangements for the town’s holiday events, most of their time together was spontaneous or when she couldn’t stay away or to appease her mom.

Angi wanted Gabe to know she was choosing him in the same way he had her. She wanted him to know how much he meant to her, even if she couldn’t say the most important words just yet.

“I don’t want to intrude on your family time,” he said, looking past her shoulder.

“Gabe, I want you there.” She leaned in and kissed the edge of his jaw. “You belong with us. I want you to know...”

She broke off as his entire body went stiff. Was his reaction a result of her offer? Even if his feelings weren’t as deep as hers, they were friends now. Surely that meant—

“I can’t believe it.”

She frowned as she realized his attention was miles away from her. The color had drained from his face and a change had come over him, like all the light had been snuffed out by a hurricane of darkness.

“Gabe, what’s going on?” She tried to turn but his arms held her still, almost painful in their tightness. Angi doubted he even realized the way he was grasping onto her. “Is it Sara? If she’s making a scene, I’ll—”

“No.” He dropped his arms suddenly. His jaw went slack and he gave a sharp shake of his head. The dancers continued to move around them, several couples adjusting their steps to avoid bumping into them since Gabe was now like an unmovable mountain in the middle of the dance floor.

Angi followed his gaze and saw an older woman staring at him from near the bar on the far side of the room. She had black hair, clearly dyed, pulled back into a severe knot on the back of her head. She was small but not frail and looked oddly out of place amid the joy of the crowd attending the dance. After a moment, the stranger turned her attention from Gabe to Angi, lifting the small silver flask she held in her hand as if in a toast.

“Who is that?” Angi asked even as Gabe moved to block her view.

It seemed endless minutes passed before he answered, although in truth it was only a quick second.

She felt the change in him. A systemic shift as if everything between them was gone.

“That,” he said slowly, his voice as cold as she’d ever heard it. “Is my mother.”