All I Want For Christmas: Holiday Romance

by Catelyn Meadows

  “He’s my little boy—not hers,” she muttered, her hands shaking. Saylor’s. Not Amanda’s parents’. And what about safety gear? Did they know how many six-year-olds died from riding snowmobiles with careless adults?

  David’s next message: Don’t worry. We’ll be safe and buy him a helmet.

  How nice. They had the kind of money to go buying helmets for kids who had nothing to do with them. Like that was supposed to make it better.

  Bitterness, frustration, and jealousy all simmered at a low boil, licking heat through her veins. The worst part was she knew Parker would love it. He wouldn’t know how vindictive these people really were. He wouldn’t get that he was just a pawn in their game, a pawn in his father’s attempts to one-up Saylor.

  The truth was, she couldn’t give him this. She couldn’t give him an adventurous life with cabins and huge Christmas trees and snowmobiles, not when she had to work eight hours a day, not when she barely made enough to buy him measly Hamburger Helper boxed dinners that she was too exhausted to fix for him by the time she picked him up from daycare.

  “You okay?” Darcy asked, resting a hand on her arm and jerking her to reality. Saylor stared into her friend’s concerned dark eyes. Darcy’s expression was the last straw. Tears blurred Saylor’s vision. She shook her head, cupping her cell phone between her hands.

  The phone at Saylor’s desk rang, but she adjusted her settings and paused all calls so they would defer to another cubicle. The shaking in her hands spread through the rest of her. She knew she was being irrational, but she couldn’t seem to help it.

  Shelly appeared at their boxed entrance. She crooked a hand at one hip, a look of mild boredom on her face which left her eyes half-closed. They opened fully the minute she saw Saylor.

  “Everything okay here?” she asked.

  Saylor hurried to scrub away the tears. Darcy turned to answer her ringing line, the sound shrill and suddenly piercing.

  Saylor waited for Shelly to deride or make a comment about the effect men had on her when they visited her at work. This wasn’t about Cole, but she wasn’t about to explain anything here where so many ears could overhear.

  “I think I need to take my break,” Saylor managed. Several seconds passed before Shelly’s gaze softened. She stepped back, motioning with her head.

  Darcy quickly grasped Saylor’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. Saylor patted her hand, grateful for the gesture. Darcy knew some of her drama with David, as did her manager.

  With her head down, she followed Shelly into her office at the end of the long room. Several heads peered over the edges of their cubicles, which only made Saylor lower hers. She must’ve looked like some kind of punished dog at the pound.

  Shelly waited for her to enter first, then closed the door behind them. A wall of shelves rigidly offset several plaques and awards hanging near the window. A picture of several cute kids smiled at Saylor from beside the phone on Shelly’s very clean desk.

  “What happened?” she asked, sitting on the edge of that desk.

  Saylor steeled herself, working to regulate her breathing and gain some semblance of control. Shelly had been the perfect blend of manager and friend, hearing the employees’ complaints while still maintaining a professional distance. Saylor figured she wouldn’t fault her for her meltdown—it wasn’t like it happened all the time.

  “I just need a minute. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

  “Is it David?” She folded her arms.

  Saylor sniffled, not wanting to confirm it aloud for fear she might crumble again. She could only nod. “I’ll be fine. I just need a minute.”

  Shelly loitered a bit longer, but when Saylor didn’t elaborate, she made her way to the door.

  “I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed,” she said in a moment of kindness. “Ten minutes. Tops.”

  Saylor couldn’t manage to thank her. Instead, she lost it. Her constant battle with hopelessness checkmated, and hopelessness won in a way she let it only once before. In a way she’d promised herself she’d never sink to again. But she sank, treading water and failing, bobbing, gasping for air.

  The tears spilled down her cheeks. Her lungs constricted, making it difficult to breathe. Her mind dredged up all kinds of history, all kinds of memories, attempting to make sense of these emotions when they made no sense at all.

  “This will be okay,” she told herself the way her therapist devised the last time this happened, when another man she loved told her he didn’t want to be with her. It was so long ago, clear back in high school, and as a foolish eighteen-year-old girl, she’d let it consume her. She’d told herself she wouldn’t let that happen again. Not over a man, not again.

  But this wasn’t about a man, this was about her son. She couldn’t lose him. She wouldn’t lose him.

  She practiced her breathing, something she was grateful no one was around to watch. Shelly must have known—Saylor would never get this level of privacy in the breakroom.

  In between long, slow breaths, Saylor began listing all the positives, the way she’d trained her brain to do.

  Parker should have a relationship with his dad, she told herself first. She’d worried how the divorce would affect him, having to split his time and weekends between his parents. Having more time with his dad would make things easier for him.

  It’s good for us to be apart for a few days. Another half-truth; being around the same person twenty-four-seven could be taxing, even if it was someone you loved.

  David hadn’t said her parents would take him on their own. He would be there too. Parker would be with his dad.

  And that was what mattered. Parker.

  She inhaled again and crossed to the window. Weakness overtook her muscles, and she sank her head against the cool glass and hugged her arms around her chest. I’ll get him back. Things will be okay.

  A bird haphazardly smacked its beak against the glass with a loud, unexpected thump. Saylor jumped back, nerves pumping in surprise. Fortunately, it recovered and flapped away, realizing its mistake too late.

  The cars below trekked in a slow formation, some pulling in at Culver’s, some at other buildings, their wheels spraying slush as they went. She doubted anyone below so much as glanced up at these windows. Why should a bird?

  Saylor fingered the glass, imagining what it must look like to a bird. A reflection of the outside world perhaps, catching the sunlight at just the right angle to deceive, while those on the inside could see it clearly for what it was.

  The undertone wasn’t lost on her—things weren’t always what they seemed. She sighed, retrieving her phone.

  That’s fine, she finally replied to David, hearing her mother’s voice in her head telling her to grow a backbone. But her mother didn’t understand the fear that walked hand-in-hand with a broken heart. She would get through this weekend. That would be that.

  With a final exhale, Saylor skimmed through her texts once more. She’d almost forgotten about Cole’s question, about whether or not she liked Christmas lights.

  She’d sent a joking reply to him. Who doesn’t?

  I’m sure there are a few Grinch’s out there who don’t appreciate them, he said. But I know you aren’t among them. You did jump a fence just to see Santa Claus.

  She couldn’t help but chuckle, and it lightened her mood slightly. She wiped a hand across her cheek, her chest quivering.

  I love Christmas lights, she typed, but as you said, Christmas is over.

  They won’t take them down until New Years. Want to come see some with me tonight?

  The adrenaline from crying so unexpectedly left her body weak, but alert. She licked her lips. Christmas lights with Cole. She could think of nothing better, right this second.

  I’d love to.

  Chapter Eight

  Snow grazed the fields, creating a white sheet beneath the darkness. Moonlight stroked the snow, making it glisten. While it was incredible, they hadn’t seen much of anything but the occasional house for miles now.<
br />
  “Just how far out is this place?” Saylor asked, tapping her fingers in time to the music of Cole’s radio. His pickup was warm; the leather seat heated beneath her like a hug. What she wouldn’t give for heated seats in her car.

  “Thirty minutes, give or take. We’re not far.”

  “That’s a long drive just to see Christmas lights.”

  Cole slid her a look. “These aren’t just any Christmas lights. Oh, look. Here they are.” He pointed to the left.

  Tiny stars of red, gold, green, and blue glimmered, making a festive circus of the night sky and the snow. They climbed and spread the closer they got, capturing Saylor’s breath as well as her attention.

  “Wow,” she said, hearing Parker chastise her for the use of the word. In this case, however, it was completely justified.

  “Just wait until you see it up close,” Cole said, turning into the lot. The gas station where the lights were located was just an afterthought. The lights stole the show, casting their glowing net across the surrounding area like a wonderland.

  Cole entered the roped-off area, marked by twine and a large number of vehicles, including a truck with its wide trailer taking up a large segment of the lot toward the back. Ahead, a path lit by columns of white, twinkling lights, and large, crisscrossed candy canes clearly shouted, “Start here,” without having to spell a single syllable.

  “Shall we?” Cole asked when he killed the ignition in his gray Dodge. While Saylor hated to leave the comfortable leather seat with its very convenient heater, she figured this was a worthy trade.

  “Let’s,” she said.

  She lumped her cream beanie with its single puff onto her head, slipped her hands into her digital-friendly gloves with the fancy fingertip that let her use her phone even when it was cold, and slid out.

  Her boots sank into wet snow, which had been made slush by all the traffic this place apparently received. Cole sidled around, lips quirked and looking far too tempting, and together they muddled through the slush toward the candy cane-marked path and the small city of lit trees.

  She gazed up at cascading pine trees-turned-light-sculptures, their branches tangled with pink flamingo lights, pineapple lights, jalapeño, and even snowflake and motorcycle lights. Every light, in every single style, shape, and color imaginable, lined the trees along the path.

  “So?” he prodded, elbowing her, their feet crunching the snow.

  “This is unbelievable,” she said, taking in the equally fantastic sight of lit Santas, reindeer, and snowmen. A covered archway of lights beckoned them onward, surrounded by trees whose trunks were spiraled by the glow.

  The sight was truly magical. It required no words for the time being, so they walked, enjoying the view from all angles in the colorful daze. Saylor was so mesmerized, she hardly noticed the cold.

  “Can you imagine the time it would take to create all of this?” she asked, admiring one towering tree whose every branch was coiled by twinkling lights.

  “Months,” said Cole, inspecting the same tree. The yellow light set shadows off his face and brought out the line of his jaw. “It has to. I hear they even have a camel this year.”

  Without thinking, Saylor grabbed his arm. “You’re kidding. Where?”

  She tiptoed up, her breath exhaling in puffs as she skimmed through the glow. Cole searched as well—he had a better vantage point, being several inches taller than she was.

  “There,” he said, pointing with a gloved hand toward the large barn. Saylor squealed in excitement before she realized her hand was still on his arm.

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “You’re keeping me warm,” he said, not letting her slip away. He guided her arm through his this time and rested his hand over hers with a maddening smirk. Her stomach danced at the touch, and together they walked toward a crowd surrounding a large, glassed-in village display.

  “Tell me about you, Saylor Bates,” Cole said, peering down at a tiny couple ice skating on a mirrored lake. “Have you always lived in Twin?” He resorted to the colloquial name all the locals used for the city.

  “I grew up in Rexburg,” she said. Just over two hours from Twin Falls.

  “What led you here?”

  “A job.” She cringed inside, but hid it with a smile. It wasn’t a total lie. “And you? Are you from here?”

  “Boise,” he said. About two hours in the opposite direction from Rexburg. West, instead of northeast. “I graduated Boise State and followed a girl here.”

  “Oh?”

  He inclined his head. “She left a trail on purpose, and I took it. That trail died, which was more the better for me in the long run. After things ended, I’d already planted roots, so here I am.”

  “Here you are.” Saylor glanced up at him, warming at the sight of his handsome features, soft brow, and masculine jawline. “Lucky me,” she added.

  Cole paused in the path for a second, capturing her gaze while flashes of color from the surrounding lights danced in his eyes.

  “Don’t speak too soon,” he said with a wink.

  “I wouldn’t dare,” she said with her own smirk, pulling free to follow the path curving behind the gas station. “We’re closer to the camel,” she went on, inhaling a full breath of the cool, white-capped air. She loved this smell. It was the aroma of crisp linens and fresh starts.

  She sensed more than saw Cole beside her, though his Doc Martens kept in step with her black boots that climbed her skinny jeans clear to her knees. “I can feel it.”

  “You like animals?” he asked.

  “As much as the next person. But this is a camel we’re talking about. How often do you see one of those?”

  “Idaho Falls Zoo,” said Cole, answering her rhetorical question. “Summer of 2015.” He said this with pride, as if stating a significant milestone in his life. Saylor couldn’t help laughing.

  “You dateline zoo visits?”

  “Only when they’re spent with one of my girls.”

  The trail he mentioned—had he been married? “You have kids?”

  “My nieces,” he said, bending to drop some loose change in the donation slot on top of a festive, red collecting box. Saylor delved in her pockets for several quarters as well, craving to know more about him. If he noted the date of zoo visits with his nieces, did that mean he liked children, or was that just her eager mother-heart perking with false hope?

  “That’s sweet,” she said. “How old are they?”

  “Nine, seven, and three. All odd numbers. My brother-in-law was a no-show, but my sister promised to take Kaezlie for her birthday—”

  “And let me guess. You offered to help.”

  “That I did.”

  They approached the crowd gathered around a tall fence constructed with gates and corner posts. Saylor bent for a few carrots in a bucket beside the fence and stood in line, admiring the hairy, horse-like creature with its single hump, gnarled knees, and big teeth.

  Ahead of them, a man held up a small boy so the boy could reach his carrot to the camel’s mouth. Saylor swallowed and pressed away unwanted thoughts. Tomorrow. She’d have her boy back tomorrow.

  “Zoo trips,” Saylor said as Cole got his own carrot. She was surprised the camel was even hungry at this point, considering how many people had been making their way through here. “Santa impersonations. What else is on your list?”

  Cole ducked his head down and removed a glove. Voices rose nearby, indicative of a budding conversation. Before Cole could answer, a single word speared through Saylor.

  “Mommy!”

  She wheeled around when a small person leapt into her arms.

  “Parks! What are you doing here?” She hugged him close, unable to believe it. Her mind flicked through the details David had given her. Rock Creek Canyon. Snowmobiling.

  When Cole had proposed the date, she hadn’t connected the two as being the same place altogether. With the fields and hills around here, it must’ve been a prime spot for sleds. The snowmobile trailer she’d no
ticed in the lot must be the Windham’s.

  An older, well-dressed woman frowned behind Parker. Standing beside her was Amanda, along with a disconcerted David. He scowled at Cole before turning his attention back to Saylor.

  “You’re on a date?” he said, mouth downturned. Amanda sniffed, scowling at the cars in the lot. What was with her inability to make eye contact?

  Saylor slid her arm back through Cole’s, not wanting him to feel as awkward as she did. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

  Cole stiffened. In a moment of hindsight, Saylor realized how possessive she must’ve appeared.

  David’s brows leapt. “Okay then. We don’t want to disturb you, so...” He indicated toward Parker.

  “Right,” she said, letting Parker slip back onto the ground. He kept his little hand in hers.

  “Time to go, Sport.” David held out a hand.

  “I want to stay with Mommy,” Parker said, too loudly. Several people near the camel glanced in their direction.

  David stepped forward, annoyance evident in the pucker of his brows. Saylor crouched down before he could get to him.

  “You’d better go with your dad, okay?” She brushed hair out of Parker’s eyes. “I’ll see you first thing tomorrow.”

  Parker lunged, dipping his head into her neck before allowing David to drag him away.

  “Bye, Mommy,” Parker said, attempting to wave back.

  She blinked several times and stood beside Cole, staring at their progress toward the parking lot. Amanda sneered over her shoulder before placing her hand into David’s free one.

  “That’s Parker?” Cole’s hands snuggled in his coat pockets. He wrinkled his nose.

  Saylor’s throat tightened. Perfect. Nothing says disaster like running into your ex-husband on the first date with another man.

  Cole gave the camel’s nose a final pat before leaving the animal to the next people in line.

  “That’s my Parker.”

  “And his dad.”