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Page 9 of A Very Grumpy Christmas

“Did you get Ginger’s car fixed last night?” He asks, and I nod. “How long did it take you?”

“Four hours, and you’re changing the subject.”

He sighs, tossing the rag onto a nearby table. “Fine, I’ll go, and we both know that you’re going. You’ll show up, even if you keep your distance. Just like always.”

I huff out a laugh, but it’s forced. Huxley knows me too well. He knows I can’t stay away from Ginger, even if it means lingering in the background, just out of sight. The idea of watching her laugh and smile with other people, of seeing her with someone else under the mistletoe—it makes my stomach twist.

But showing up? Actually talking to her, revealing that I’m the one behind the letters? I don’t know if I have it in me.

“Yeah, maybe,” I say, turning away from him and focusing on the helicopter in front of me. “I’ll think about it.”

Huxley doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his eyes on me, like he’s waiting for me to make a decision. And maybe I am too.

As the night drags on, my mind keeps wandering back to that damn note in my pocket. The weight of it feels heavier with every passing hour. Ginger wants to meet, and if I don’t show up, if I keep hiding, I’ll lose her before I ever really had her.

But if I do show up… what then? What if she sees me and regrets everything? What if she realizes that the guy in the letters isn’t the guy standing in front of her? Can I handle that rejection?

The doubt gnaws at me, refusing to let go.

By the time I finish up and head home, I’m no closer to an answer. I drive home in silence, the streets dark and empty, and all I can think about is the holiday party. I know Ginger will be there. I know she’ll be waiting for me.

And I know I’m running out of time to decide what to do.

As I pull into my driveway, I lean my head back against the seat, closing my eyes for a moment. The house is quiet, empty, and for the first time in a long time, I feel the weight of my loneliness. I’ve spent so long pushing people away, hiding behind these letters, that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to really be close to someone.

Ginger could change that. She could be the one to pull me out of this darkness.

If I’m brave enough to let her.

I glance at the note in my pocket one last time before heading inside. I’ll have to make a choice soon.

But not tonight.

FOUR

Ginger

It’s beenthree days since I left my secret admirer the note, and still nothing.

I keep checking my car, mailbox, under my welcome mat and everywhere else that I can think about. I know that I’m driving my sisters crazy by looking all over their businesses every morning, every afternoon, even late at night after work, hoping—no,praying—that there will be something waiting for me. Another letter. A sign.Anything.But there’s been nothing.

The note I left is gone, so I know he got it. He must’ve read it. He had to have seen that I asked to meet, and still nothing.

The silence has been deafening.

I don’t know what I expected. Maybe I thought he’d be excited, that he’d jump at the chance to finally come out of the shadows and show me who he is, but that doesn’t really make sense with the whole anonymous letter thing that he’s been doing. I guess I had just hoped that he would want to meet face-to-face, to talk about all of this.

Instead, all I’m left with is doubt and frustration, wondering if I crossed some invisible line. Did I scare him off? Was it too much too soon? Or maybe he’s not the person I imagined him to be. Maybe he doesn’t want to meet at all.

That thought makes my chest tighten, and I hate it. I hate how much I’ve let myself get attached to a man I’ve never even met, how much I’ve invested in the words of a stranger. But I can’t help it. Every letter he’s written feels like a piece of him, and I’ve been falling in love with those pieces for months now.

I can’t just let it go. Not yet.

With a determined breath, I grab a pen and a sheet of paper from behind the counter of Wet and Wild, my sister Maple’s adult toy store. I was here covering for her while she went out to lunch with her boyfriend, Ryder. She just got back, though, so I know that I’ll be headed out soon. Maple is in the back, working on some inventory, and I’m thankful for the moment of privacy. I scribble down the words quickly, not letting myself overthink it.

Meet me.I’m not waiting any longer. I need to know who you are.

I stareat the note for a long moment, my fingers tightening around the edges of the paper. This is it—my last attempt, my last push. If he doesn’t reply after this, I’ll have to let it go. I’ll have to accept that maybe I’m just chasing a fantasy, a ghost.


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