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The drive home is quiet. Eli holds my hand this time around, though, and I contemplate what our future holds. After the chauffeur parks in my drive, we sit there in silence.
“You know, I don't hate Christmas,” he says out of the blue.
“Could have fooled me.” But there’s no heat behind my words.
“I know I don't have the best way of showing it. But it's not the season so much as…” He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I don't know how to explain it. My mom raised me by herself. She watched those holiday movies year round. Made me sit and watch them with her, too. I guess at some point it became this annoyingly painful reminder of what we didn't have.”
I rest my head on his shoulder, cuddling closer as he shares this vulnerable part of his past. Who cares if the driver is waiting for us to exit? He can chill and earn his huge tip in the easiest way possible, by remaining silent and giving us this quiet time together.
“My mom dated, but she never found love. I never magically got a dad for Christmas. So the fairy tale of it all jaded me.”
“That's why you take issue with these movies,” I say, finally understanding his attitude.
“Yeah, it wasn't real. I kept thinking about other people like my mom watching these movies hoping for something similar and never finding comfort. It pissed me off on their behalf.”
“But they are finding comfort in it.” I turn to face him more fully. Stroking his arm, I carefully explain, “We're not stupid. We understand it's fictional. But that's part of its charm. We can sit back, relax, and know in the end that this couple is going to live happily ever after. That's comforting. It's an escape.”
“Don't you have something like that?” I ask, hope shimmering in my voice. “It may not be holiday rom-coms like your mom, but surely there's something you love that helps you escape the stresses of life.”
Eli shrugs. “I don't know. When I'm stressed, I work out. But I don't know that I'd say I love it.”
“You don't have any hobbies or anything?”
“I'm not like you, Shelby. You're this creative savant. I'm not.” His mouth screws up into a self-deprecating expression.
Lifting my hand, I smooth out the frustration with a soft caress along his lips. “You don't have to be creative to have a hobby. What about baking? You said you enjoy it. There’s a hobby.”
“That's true. Although I don't do it too often. It's easier to order in or buy whatever I need or want.”
Stubborn man. I can tell he’s not willing to relinquish his false beliefs quite yet, so I move on. “Thank you for sharing about you and your mom. It's kind of funny.” I chuckle. “You have more experience with these films than me.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I didn't start watching Hallmark movies until college. Then I was hooked. I guess it's because my life got more stressful.” My shoulders rise and fall with a sigh. “So you've got decades more experience than me.”
“Yet you're the Hallmark heroine. I swear, you are the living embodiment of every leading lady.”
“I don't know if I'd go that far, but I appreciate it. My life hasn't exactly been a Hallmark movie so far, but I suppose it's looking up.” I squeeze his hand.
He returns the comforting gesture, tenderness emanating from his gray eyes. “Yeah, it is, isn't it?”
“Even if our time together is fleeting.” I broach the topic we've been avoiding.
“It doesn't have to be.”
How I wish that were true.
“Eli, come on. MerryCon ends tomorrow, and then you'll be jetting off to who knows where. But it's not this small town. I'll be back in my shop, working as usual. People can make long distances work, but we're from two different worlds. We barely know each other.”
“We know each other well enough,” he argues, his body tensing.
“Still. I'm not sure it's wise to commit to anything after a 48-hour fling.” I don't wait for his response, extracting my hand from his and getting out of the car. If I don’t leave now, my willpower may desert me. “Tonight was lovely. Thank you for taking me, and thank your mom for pushing us together. I'll see you tomorrow, if you find a break. Okay? Goodnight.” I wave and hurry to my front door, slipping inside while Eli watches, waiting until I'm safely ensconced in my home before telling the driver to leave.
I breathe a sigh of relief. The hard part's done. I let him know where we stand, and I feel good about it. Well, good about my bravery to say something, not good about our time together ending.
But that's reality.
This isn't a Hallmark movie, after all.
