The Christmas Letters: A Magnolia Bay Romantic Comedy

by Brenna Jacobs

  “Sure thing.” Connor swung the truck around and shifted into park, then followed Dahlia as she climbed out and approached the garage. She typed a code into a keypad just outside the door and it slid up, revealing an enormous pile of wrapping paper and boxes of gift bags.

  “Guess this is what we’re here for,” Connor said. “Should we load it up?”

  Dahlia nodded. “Let’s do it.”

  Connor jumped to the side when a cat darted past him and out of the garage like it was escaping a cell at a high-security prison. “You think that cat was supposed to get out?”

  Dahlia followed Connor’s gaze. “I don’t know. Let me ask real quick . . .”

  She pulled out her phone, her face shifting into a grimace as she read the screen. “Uh oh,” she said, her voice low. “I missed a text from Mrs. Greenly.”

  She walked toward Connor and turned the screen around so he could read it.

  “Whatever you do, don’t let the cat get out of the garage. She’s in heat and we do not need any more kittens,” Connor read aloud.

  “Oops,” he said.

  “What are we going to do?” Dahlia asked.

  Connor chuckled. “I guess we’re going to search for a cat.”

  She sighed. “This is totally ridiculous. We don’t have time for this. I don’t even like cats.”

  “I’ll look for the cat,” Connor said. “Why don’t you get the stuff loaded up while I search?”

  Chapter 11

  Dahlia

  “Of all the stupid, idiotic things to have happen,” Dahlia muttered under her breath. She hoisted another roll of wrapping paper into the back of Connor’s truck. Connor! His presence only made the night more stupid. He couldn’t see her managing a charity event with grace and aplomb. No, she had to be scrambling at the last minute to pick up supplies. Picking up the food herself. Relying on other people to keep things running smoothly.

  And now he was searching for a cat in heat. Could the evening get any more ridiculous?

  How had Mrs. Greenly expected her to get the wrapping paper out of the garage without letting the cat out? It wasn’t as if cats had a track record of sitting and staying. At least not any cats she knew.

  With the last of the wrapping supplies loaded, Dahlia went in search of Connor, hoping he had a fussy feline under his arm by the time she found him.

  The Greenlys’ property was enormous, the expansive lawn to the right of the garage speckled with looming live oaks, their branches spread wide and low to the ground. The moon filtering through their branches cast shadows all over the lawn.

  “Connor?” Dahlia whispered into the stillness. “Where are you?”

  Dahlia didn’t hear Connor, but she did hear a meow. She walked toward the sound, her steps slow and steady. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” she called softly. She approached a massive oak tree, the trunk as big around as her car and tiptoed around it. She looked up, searching the branches overhead, but it was too dark to make anything out.

  “Oof!” She bumped into something solid, nearly falling backward onto her butt, but then arms snaked around her waist, keeping her upright. Her hands flew forward, landing on the solid expanse of Connor’s chest.

  Dahlia swallowed. He smelled good. Manly and clean and like . . . Christmas trees.

  “Sorry,” she said, but she didn’t move out of his arms.

  Also notable: he didn’t let go of her, either.

  She glanced up one more time. “I was searching the branches. I thought I heard a meow over this way.”

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low.

  Dahlia nodded, dropping her gaze from the tree to his eyes. Moonlight glinted off of his features. Dahlia nearly swooned for how handsome he was. And he was so close, so real and tangible under her hands. She hadn’t thought too much about Connor over the past couple of weeks. She’d been preoccupied thinking about her mysterious letter writer, wondering what he was like. He still hadn’t responded to her suggestion that they meet in person, but she was fairly certain he would. And yet, all she could think of right then was the very not mysterious man in front of her. Her eyes dropped to his lips. Standing in the circle of his arms, she was close enough to kiss him. She couldn’t though. She wouldn’t. Not when Connor had made his opinions about her startlingly clear.

  But then, why was he still holding onto her?

  She swallowed. “You smell like Christmas.”

  Her words seemed to jar him back to reality and he dropped his hands from her waist, moving them to her elbows as if to ascertain she was truly steady on her feet. “You’re sure you’re okay?” he said again.

  Dahlia nodded. “Thanks.”

  “I put my grandmother’s Christmas tree up this afternoon,” Connor said. “You’re probably smelling the pine sap that’s still on my arms.”

  “That would do it.”

  They stood there, their gazes locked for what felt like an eternity. Something was happening, though Dahlia hated to acknowledge it for fear of ruining it.

  “How do you feel about olives on your pizza?” Connor suddenly asked.

  Dahlia furrowed her brow. “What?”

  “Olives,” Connor repeated. “Do you like them?”

  She shook her head. “Olives are the worst. Why?”

  Connor smiled and shook his head. “No reason. I think I’m just hungry.”

  A meow sounded at their feet and Dahlia looked down to see the Greenlys’ cat weaving its way between her legs. “Well, hello,” she said, bending down and scooping up the cat. “Nice of you to make an appearance.”

  She walked back toward the garage, the cat purring happily in her arms. She looked to Connor. “Why don’t you close me in and then I’ll let myself out the side door.”

  Connor nodded, entering the code she gave him—hopefully Mrs. Greenly would forgive her for sharing the code—into the keypad and closing the door. With the cat deposited back onto the bed that sat on top of a large chest freezer in the corner, Dahlia crossed the dark garage by the light of her cell phone and let herself out the side door.

  Connor leaned against the passenger side of his truck waiting for her. When she approached, he opened the door for her, waiting while she climbed inside.

  “Thanks,” she said. She waited until he was fully behind the wheel. “For everything,” she added. “You’ve definitely gone above and beyond tonight.”

  He nodded. “Like I said,” he said with a warm grin that sent flutters straight to her heart. “I’m happy to help.”

  ***

  The rest of the night went off without a hitch. The presents were all wrapped, the pizza was delicious, and Dahlia even found herself enjoying the company. She’d spent most of the night wrapping gifts with Lily, Deacon, Connor, and Connor’s friend Ben, who turned out to be absolutely hilarious. It helped that half his jokes were about Connor, who took them with good-natured grace.

  The most surprising part of the night was how quickly Connor and Deacon hit it off. By the time the last present was wrapped, the two had already made plans to go to a hockey game together.

  “He’s so great,” Deacon said to Lily and Dahlia at the end of the night. “So easy to talk to.”

  “Aw, you’ve got a cute little bromance, honey,” Lily said, patting Deacon on the arm.

  “Can we not forget that this is the guy who completely rejected me?” Dahlia asked, hands on her hips. “Maybe have a tiny bit of compassion for my feelings here?”

  Deacon at least had the decency to grimace. “Sorry, Dahl. You aren’t going to make me break up with him though, are you? You think you guys could at least be friends?”

  Dahlia rolled her eyes. “Fine. But only because I care about you, Deac. And I know how much you’re missing Emmett now that he and Janie are living in Tennessee.” She sighed dramatically. “Have your bromance. I’ll be fine.”

  Deacon’s brother, Emmett, had been a musician for years, but he’d only recently gotten the courage to bail on the family law firm and try and ma
ke a career out of his music. He’d managed pretty well and he and his wife, Janie, had recently moved to Nashville where Emmett could take full advantage of the country music scene.

  She could only imagine how much the distance was killing Deacon. They’d always been close. She meant what she’d told him. She wasn’t petty enough to stop Deacon from being Connor’s friend just because he’d rejected her. But she’d be lying if she pretended like it didn’t renew her embarrassment all over again to think of spending time with Connor, even just in Deacon’s orbit, on a regular basis.

  Also, Deacon was a Calhoun. His family was among the oldest and most monied in Charleston. How come Connor didn’t have a problem hanging out with him?

  Maybe he just had a different set of standards for friends than he did for girlfriends.

  Her gut tightened. Or worse . . . maybe it had all been an excuse. Maybe Connor didn’t actually care about money or society and he’d just been trying to let Dahlia down easy.

  And now he was going to be friends with Deacon. She’d have to see him. Maybe hang out with him at group events. She suddenly wondered if she’d imagined the way he’d held onto her while they were searching for Mrs. Greenly’s cat. Was it just that she’d been holding onto him?

  The only thing that brought her comfort was the hope that C.M., whoever he was, wouldn’t care about something so petty. That he would see her for who she really was, and not just a stereotype. Because that’s what Connor was doing. Seeing her as a stereotype.

  The very man himself stood at the edge of the pavilion near her car, his hands hooked loosely in his back pockets.

  “Thanks for your help tonight,” Dahlia said breezily as she passed him. She wasn’t leaving yet, but she’d need to make a few trips to get the last of the unused supplies into the back of her SUV.

  “Here, let me help,” Connor said. He walked to the stack of boxes and scooped one up before quickly catching up. He waited while she opened the hatch, then set the box next to hers.

  “Thanks,” she said coolly, quickly turning back toward the pavilion.

  “Dahlia,” Connor said.

  She took a deep breath before facing him.

  “Can we talk a second?”

  She could already imagine where the conversation was going. He and Deacon were going to hang out. Deacon was married to her best friend. He hoped it wouldn’t be awkward and could they possibly just be friends?

  The worst part of it all was that if all that were true, she needed to tell him about her history with Deacon. It was something her therapist had taught her to do—to own her past so that she could reveal the truth on her own terms, without having to worry about what others whispered about her when she wasn’t around. If she was at peace with her past, then others could be as well.

  This was the first time she’d have to put her therapist’s counsel to the test. So far, everyone she’d seen since returning from Bali had already had their ears filled up with other people’s versions of the story.

  Dahlia mustered her courage. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about as well.”

  His eyebrows went up. “Oh. Okay. You want to go first?”

  She nodded, looking out across the empty parking lot. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

  He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Sure.”

  They headed away from the station and down the sidewalk, crossing into a relatively quiet residential part of downtown. Dahlia had always loved this part of town, with its abundance of historical facades, gas lamps, and centuries-old cobblestone.

  Connor gestured with his toe to the bumpy street. “The cobblestone is a pain driving the rig.”

  “I bet,” Dahlia said. “It’s bad enough in a car. I can’t imagine what it must feel like when you’ve got a critically ill patient in your care.”

  Dahlia forced a deep breath in through her nose and closed her eyes for a brief moment before resuming her pace.

  Connor watched her, a curious expression on his face, but he didn’t pressure her to talk.

  She appreciated that much, at least.

  “If you’re going to be friends with Deacon,” she finally said, “there’s something I want to tell you.”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  “I don’t want you to think it’s weird that I’m choosing to tell you. I own that it doesn’t have anything to do with my relationship with you, and it doesn’t have anything to do with your friendship with him. But to be completely transparent, this is therapy for me. Owning my truth, and all that.”

  Connor’s eyebrows raised, but he didn’t reveal anything else about what he was feeling. “Okay,” he repeated again, his voice a little smaller this time.

  “It’s just that you’re a new person in my life, and now you’re in Deacon’s life and that means you need to know. So things don’t get weird later. And I’d rather you hear it from me than anyone else.”

  “Dahlia,” Connor said patiently, “just tell me. Did you guys used to date or something?”

  Dahlia shot him a look, her steps slowing to a stop. “Something like that.”

  Connor stopped across from her. “Do you want me to keep guessing?”

  She shook her head and took a few more cleansing breaths.

  Finally, she looked up, making eye contact with Connor in the dim glow of the street lamp above them. “Do you remember when I mentioned learning to surf in Bali?”

  Connor nodded. “Sure.”

  “Bali was supposed to be my honeymoon.” She swallowed. “But I went alone. After I cancelled my wedding. Actually, the wedding still sort of happened. The reception happened, anyway. All the people were there, and the food was already paid for. I guess my parents felt like it would have been a waste to throw it all away.”

  “Wow. So you . . . got all the way to the wedding day.”

  Dahlia nodded. “I was in my wedding dress when I bailed. The guests were all seated for the ceremony.” She shook her head. “It was a horrible thing to do, but you have to believe me. Marrying Deacon would have been so much worse.”

  Connor’s eyes lit with understanding. “Deacon. But he’s . . .”

  Dahlia sighed. “Having a baby with my best friend? Yeah. I know.”

  “Wow.”

  “Honestly, it’s not as weird as you’re probably imagining. I loved Deacon. I still love Deacon. But Deacon was a representation of everything my family wanted for me, everything that was expected of me. Growing up, I did everything I could to make my own way, to shake off what I thought everyone else wanted me to be. I hated the expectations, but I couldn’t escape them. No matter how hard I tried. And I was horrible for it. Mean. Disparaging of everything—and everyone—that meant anything to me. I nearly left half a dozen times, but I couldn’t do it. Because of him. As much as I hated everything else, I loved Deacon. I couldn’t leave him behind.” She shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t know though. Sometimes I think that was just my excuse. I was probably too scared to actually leave.”

  “So you and Deacon grew up together?”

  Dahlia nodded. “Oh yeah. Like, nursery school in diapers together. Lily, too. Most of the time, I dragged the two of them around, getting all of us into trouble. I was a mess a minute. And those two were really good at doing damage control, cleaning up the destruction I generally left in my wake.” She shook her head. “In the end, I realized if I married Deacon I might never forgive him for keeping me in the life I’d always been fighting to escape. Still, I was careless. And I hurt a lot of people when I left.”

  “And yet, they just showed up and volunteered at your charity event, giving you their entire Friday night, looking at you like you’re their favorite person in the world. That says a lot about how much they love you.”

  Unexpected tears pooled in Dahlia’s eyes. She sniffed and wiped them away. “I don’t deserve them. But I’m trying to be better. I stayed in Bali for eighteen months . . . long enough to figure out what it is I want for my life.”

 
“What did you figure out?” Connor asked.

  “That I don’t want to be an attorney’s wife?” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with being an attorney’s wife. I don’t mean to sound judgmental. I just mean, that isn’t all I want to be. And that’s the path I was on. To be that. Deacon’s wife and nothing more. I had no clue who I wanted to be on my own. I had to figure that out.”

  Dahlia stilled. That was far more than she’d planned on saying. Although, she shouldn’t be surprised. She’d known after two minutes of conversation through a bathroom stall door that Connor was easy to talk to. Their present conversation was only further proof. “Sorry. I don’t know why I told you all of that.”

  “I don’t mind,” Connor said, sincerity in his tone. “Those are some pretty significant life lessons.”

  “Yeah. And things are better now. I’m starting school in January,” Dahlia said, willing confidence into her voice. She hadn’t admitted her school plans out loud to anyone but Lily, and even she didn’t know what Dahlia planned to study. The only person who knew that much was C.M.

  Dahlia sniffed. “Anyway. It’s bound to come up eventually with you hanging out with Deacon, so I just wanted you to hear my side of the story. To understand that I’m sorry about what I did and I’m trying to be a better version of myself now.”

  “I appreciate you telling me.”

  They started walking again, this time back toward the fire station.

  “Can I ask you a question?” Connor eventually asked.

  Dahlia nodded. “Sure.”

  “Did you . . . I mean, was it . . . how did they . . .?”

  Dahlia shot him a sideways glance. “How did Lily and Deacon get together?”

  “Yeah,” Connor said. “And did it bug you at all? You guys just seem so comfortable around each other. I guess I’m having a hard time figuring out how it isn’t weird.”

  “It stung a little at first,” Dahlia said, “but honestly, it also just made so much sense. She’s so much better suited for him, and him for her.”

  “Are they who you were talking about when you mentioned world-tilting love? You said your cousin had it.”