Friday, December 19th
He heard Cassidy’s footsteps, quick and steady, as she jogged to catch up with him. He glanced over his shoulder right as he reached the front door of his shop.
“You came,” she said a bit breathlessly.
“I wasn’t sure if I should,” he said, not meeting her eyes.
“No, you should’ve,” she said quickly.
Liam glanced up and congratulated her before he could stop himself. “I’m glad I did. It looked great. Congratulations.”
He turned back around to unlock his shop’s door.
“I was wrong last night. Even before I found out the Gingerbread Jerk was raccoons,” Cassidy blurted out.
He blinked. “Raccoons?”
She nodded, cheeks flushed from embarrassment. “That’s who’s behind all the damage. I caught them on camera. Zoe’s trying to figure out how to trap them, but… I owe you an apology. It wasn’t fair of me to accuse you. I know you’d never sabotage my shop.”
She paused. Her voice softened. “I said those things because I was hurt.”
Liam looked down the street. There were too many people milling about. Lights glowing in windows, tourists passing by, chatting. People admiring Cassidy’s display.
He wasn’t about to pour his heart out on the sidewalk.
“You want to come inside?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
She glanced through the window, then nodded. “I’d love to.”
He unlocked the door and held it open for her.
Inside, the shop was quiet, the air warm and filled with the soft, spiced scent of the simmering pot sachets stacked by the register. Wax candle kits lined the far shelves. Honey gift sets shimmered in their jars, arranged with care beside rows of seasonal jam. The lights were soft and low. Comforting.
He watched her as she took it all in. She paused by a display of hand-poured candles and glass-blown ornaments, fingers tracing the outline of one.
This was his place. A reflection of everything he loved. His family. His roots. His work. He wanted her to see it all. To feel it.
“I owe you an apology too,” he said, leaning against the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest and let his eyes settle on her.
She turned to face him, still holding the ornament, her expression wary.
“You were right,” he said. “I got scared. I thought I was pushing you too fast. That I was asking for too much. I told myself I was giving you space, but really, I was running.”
She stayed quiet, eyes locked on his.
“You’re not the same woman who dated Jean-Paul. You’ve never once backed down from who you are. Not even when I rolled my eyes or refused to go caroling or acted like a grinch about your sweaters. And for the record, I still won’t go caroling.”
A hint of a smile tugged at her lips.
“But decorating cookies with you? Watching those cheesy movies while drinking cocoa in your Christmas pajamas? Cuddling up under way too many blankets? I actually want all of that. I can’t promise I won’t be scared again and I can’t promise I’ll ever be as into Christmas as you are. But I swear to you, I won’t run. I will listen to you.”
He uncrossed his arms and reached out his hand.
“I want that too,” she said quietly, stepping closer. “I know how hard this time of year is for you…”
He let out a breath. “I figured you did. I wanted to tell you about Avery myself. Not because I’m still stuck in the past but because I needed you to understand the fear that comes with trying again.”
She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand.
