Once Upon a December: A Holiday Short Story Collection Read Free Page B

missing me, you just have to look into her green eyes. I’m there. I think her eyes will be brighter now. Oh! Wait a sec . . .”
    Xander pulls a piece of mistletoe out of his pocket and hands it to me. I don’t even bother asking where it came from. Nothing makes sense tonight, but maybe it’s not supposed to.
    “Use this. You know, in case you need motivation to kiss her.”
    “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” I chuckle and kiss his forehead one last time. “Thank you, Xander.”
    He pushes me toward the door, and I take a deep breath before reaching for the handle. As I walk inside the diner, I take comfort in knowing that my son’s standing just outside the window . . .
    Peeking.
    The diner’s completely deserted now, so I gently turn the closed sign on the door before making my way to the counter. I sit down on a stool and wait. My entire body trembles with anticipation, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out just as Emma walks through the swinging doors, holding a bowl.
    “Sorry, we’re—”
    She stops talking.
    I stop breathing.
    Emma blinks a few times, looks down into her bowl, and then up at me again. She’s probably trying to decide if she’s finally lost her mind.
    I can relate.
    “Thomas?”
    “It’s me.”
    Suddenly, she smiles the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.
    “Xander sent you?”
    “More like . . . dragged me, but yeah.”
    Emma laughs, and with that sound, every ounce of tension leaves my body.
    “He told me he would. I didn’t believe him.”
    Emma places the bowl in front of me on the counter. I don’t even look down. I can smell the cinnamon.
    “You see him, too?”
    She nods. I look behind my shoulder and through the glass, but I can’t see him anymore.
    “Will he come back?” I ask.
    “I don’t know. I never know. But I have to believe he will.”
    I reach over the counter and lift my hand, letting my fingers drift along her face. Tears spill down the softest cheeks I’ve ever touched.
    “He will, if for no other reason than to make sure I’m not totally screwing this up again. That is, if you’ll let me try to make it right.”
    With a nod, she smiles through her own tears, her green eyes shining brightly.
    “I love you, Emma.”
    “I love you, too.”
    “Still?”
    “Always.”
    I don’t really need the mistletoe, but I pull it out of my pocket anyway . . . just in case he’s peeking . . . and I hold it above our heads.
    We lean in, and I slowly brush my lips against hers.
    And with that kiss, I’m finally home.
     

 

     

 

     
     
    Last-minute shopping on Christmas Eve always struck fear in Melanie Taylor’s heart. The frantic customers. The exhausted cashiers. The long lines. All of it was mayhem, and the last thing she needed was more chaos in her life.
    In an attempt to avoid the crowds, Melanie had chosen a high-end department store to do the last of her shopping. There was only one gift left on her list, and it had to be special. And in her world, special was just another word for expensive .
    Melanie stood at a glass case, looking down at the selection of designer watches. The one that caught her eye was undeniably gorgeous, made of titanium ceramic, and equipped with enough functions to pilot a small plane.
    “May I help you?” The man behind the counter beamed. It was impossible to ignore the excitement in his voice.
    Melanie pointed at the silver watch. “I’d like to see that one, please.”
    “Oh, that’s a fine choice,” he said as he reached for his keys. The man lifted the watch out of the case and handed it to her. She didn’t bother looking at the expensive price tag. Instead, she gazed at the band, and then at the watch’s face, hoping either would trigger some recollection.
    Nothing.
    The man noticed her reluctance.
    “Shopping for your husband?”
    “Yes, I am.”
    “What a wonderful Christmas gift! Your husband would be proud to wear a watch so beautiful and well-crafted . . .”
    The man continued