Christmas Lights by Amy Briggs

Author:Amy Briggs [Briggs, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2019-11-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Samantha

I hustled out of the diner like my hair was on fire, probably making a spectacle of myself. While I knew that Jason had no idea that I didn’t want to reminisce about the holidays growing up, I didn’t want to explain it either. Up until that moment, it had been amazing. We chatted about all kinds of things. He asked about the books I had read. He’d even heard of some of the authors that I edit. I love a man that reads.

There were no awkward moments, and I didn’t even stumble over my words like I usually do. Although I didn’t typically find myself having coffee with terrific-looking men all that often. I was actually done with my errands that day, contrary to what I told him, and when I left, I power-walked to the car where I banged my head on the steering wheel repeatedly.

It wouldn’t ever go anywhere. It couldn’t. We live a thousand miles away in what may as well be a different planet. But that didn’t mean that I shouldn’t be nice or even enjoy the flirtation. He was such a nice guy. I felt like a total fool.

I headed home to my sister’s house, where she was waiting for my return. When I sighed audibly, she put down her glass of wine. “What happened?”

“So, I ran into the handsome stranger again,” I said.

“And?” she asked excitedly.

“And his name is Jason Hayes. Apparently his daughter is friends with the girls?”

“Oh yes! How did I not figure that out?” She exclaimed. “He’s so handsome, Sam. And such a good dad. All the moms have a crush on him.” She laughed. “So, tell me what happened!”

I rolled my eyes dramatically before telling her about the afternoon. “So, yeah. I bolted.”

“Oh, Sam, come on. Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know!” I replied, flustered. “He asked me what my favorite Christmas memories were, and I froze. Look, you know how I feel about this topic.”

“Sam, I’m so disappointed,” she said. It felt like a knife in my stomach.

“You’re disappointed? What is that supposed to mean?” She’s my sister, and not having my back was devastating.

She placed both of her hands down on the counter as if she were trying to calm down. “Sam, I love you. You know that I do. But give me a break. This whole ‘I hate Christmas because my parents are dead’ routine is getting old.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, Sam, I’m not kidding. I’m not saying that you can’t wish they were here—hell, I wish they were here—but they’re not. And you being some kind of Christmas phobic to everyone is just …”

“It’s just what?” I interjected.

“It’s childish, Samantha. You don’t have to forget about them, but you do have to move on for crying out loud. Make some new memories. The holidays are supposed to be about sharing and giving and loving. All you’re doing is making yourself miserable, and frankly, making the people who love you miserable.”

She ran her hands through her hair and continued.

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