Parker laughs, nodding his head in agreement. “Yeah, your mom is definitely tenacious like that. I think it’s mostly that she’s trying to keep herself busy. Did you know she and the other ladies at the church have put together a caroling group?”
I didn’t know that, but in truth, I’m not very close to my mother anymore. When we do talk, our conversations are short and to the point. The fact that Parker knows more about what she’s doing than I do…suddenly makes me sad, even if I am part of the reason for the distance between us.
“Sounds like her.” I drag my gaze to his and see that he’s watching me intently. “What about you? How are things with you?”
The corners of his lips tug up and he shrugs. “Opened my own practice in town, still having dinner with my parents on Sundays. Working on the farm when they need me. Not much has changed since you’ve left, I guess.”
That’s partially true. The town has remained mostly the same: small, idyllic, almost untouched by the modernness of the outside world, it seems. But some things have changed. Parker, for example.
He’s so much taller than I remember. His shoulders fill his jacket in a way that they wouldn’t have four years ago, that much I know. It seems like in the time I’ve been gone, he’s turned into a man that I no longer know.
“I always knew that you’d end up opening your own practice. When we were kids, you always took such care cleaning my scrapes and putting band aids on me when I’d fall while riding my bike or scratch myself up, trying to climb into the tree house following you and Owen.” I laugh, shaking my head at the memory. Parker Grant spent a lot of time in our house growing up, so most of my memories as a kid include him.
My eyes drift back over his profile as he stares out into the darkness. His nose is slightly crooked from a fight when he was teenager, but if anything, it only makes him even more handsome. A dark brush of stubble is scattered along his jaw, and slightly down his neck. Rugged, yet refined.
Suddenly, he looks over, and I realize I’ve been caught admiring him.
I’m blaming it on the champagne and not the long-buried crush that’s suddenly resurfacing.
“Christmas is magical, Quinn. I know you’re a hotshot marketing executive now for a big Fortune 500, but maybe coming home is exactly what you needed, since you’ve seem to have forgotten that.”
Scoffing, I reach for the champagne flute and carefully bring it to my lips for a sip, the bubbles sliding down my throat with ease.
“This champagne is magic, Parker. But Christmas? Not so much. I don’t know how I’m going to endure the next seven days being stuck at home. Mom is convinced that all we need is quality time together, and that she and Dad are capable of being in the same room without anything being thrown, but I’m calling bullshit. Christmas isn’t magic; it’s an excuse for people to get presents. Nothing more, nothing less. At least Owen has Cary to act as a buffer.”
My brother and his fiancé, Cary, are high school sweethearts, and it’s part of the reason he stayed behind in Strawberry Hollow. Now, he has a reason to be absent. Not me. I’m going to be stuck at my parents' beck and call.
“Eh, a week is nothing.” His shoulder dips in a shrug. “Maybe you’ll find out just how much you miss home now that you’re back.”
That, I sincerely doubt.
A strong gust of wind disrupts our quiet, seeping through my jacket and causing me to shiver violently. If I stay out here any longer, I’m going to freeze to death.
Clearly, Parker was right to ask why I was standing out in the cold in this dress and my fashionable, but hardly functional coat. As beautiful as it is, it is not meant for a snowstorm.
I quickly drink the remainder of the champagne in one swallow then set it down on the table. “Thanks for the company. I guess I better head back inside before Mom realizes I’m missing and sends out a search party.”
“It was good catching up, Quinny,” Parker says, a wistful look in his eyes.
“Yeah, it was,” I say softly, our gazes locked. For a moment, neither of us say anything. A moment that suddenly feels intense and overwhelming, and honestly, a little confusing.
These old feelings resurfacing have taken me by surprise. I didn’t expect to see him and feel anything but nostalgia.
Somehow, I tear my eyes away, then turn on my heels and walk back through the French doors toward the party. I feel his gaze on me until I slip back inside. The welcomed toasty air greets me, and I sigh, letting it thaw me.
I glance around the room until I spot Owen and Cary cuddled up in the corner, probably whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears. They’re so in love, it’s sick.
As happy as I am for my brother, I’m also a tad bit…envious?
My love life consists of sporadic Tinder hookups, and that one guy from my building that keeps texting me “you up?” in the middle of the night.
Definitely no fairy-tale romance. Not that I’m looking for Prince Charming.
My job is my life.
My entire world revolves around One Click Marketing. Trying to make a name for yourself and working your way up the corporate ladder in a male-controlled industry is not easy. It just so happens that my boss is a grade-A misogynistic asshole, who gets off on making women feel inferior. If I hadn’t spent the last almost five years of my life building my credibility, I would quit in a heartbeat. But, I’m not giving him the satisfaction of driving yet another woman out.
“Quinn?”
Mom’s voice breaks through my thoughts. She’s standing in front of me with a glass of creamy liquid, and my mood immediately perks up.
Grandma Scott’s famous eggnog.
The one and only good thing about Christmas.
“Sorry, I was thinking about work.” I plaster on a wide smile, taking the glass from her extended hand. Just what I need to finish out the night.
Hopefully, unscathed, aside from a few fat jabs from Aunt Polly.
Mom’s face softens, her eyes wrinkling slightly at the corners. “Quinn, you work too much. See, this is exactly why I wanted you home for Christmas with us. I want all of us together in the same place, enjoying the holiday and not worrying about work or anything else. I just miss you, honey. It’s been four years since you’ve been home.” Sadness drips from her tone, matching the expression in her eyes.
I hate when we have these conversations because I feel so immensely guilty. Even though the tension between her and Dad is part of the reason I stopped visiting for the holidays, it still hurts that things between us have gotten so distant. That my need for space continues hurt her.
“I know, Mom. That’s why I’m here. All yours for a whole week. I’m even participating in this Christmas musical, even though I would rather throw myself off the Empire State Building..”
The thought of this damn musical has the champagne ready to come back up.
She perks up, pulling me to her and smashing me against her chest. “I promise, my darling, it’s going to be the best vacation ever. Even the musical! I’ll make sure of it. Oh, by the way.” Pulling back, she smirks and glances to the side.