Now I see it for what it is. Grief.
I wanted this choice to be mine, and she took that from me. But she can’t take the knowing. I see her for what she is now—and that’s where her power ends.
The music swells, low and steady, drifting
through the trees. I tilt my head back and watch the lights spread through the trees like constellations. From here, I can almost imagine I’m looking at another life. One where none of this hurt exists.
I’m standing at the edge of the pumpkin patch, a safe distance from the dance floor, when I hear footsteps crunching over the leaves behind me. But I knew it was him before he got close by the scent of cinnamon that clings to him like static.
“Figured I’d find you out here.”
Holden’s voice carries the faintest smile. He stands beside me, his jacket folded over an arm, his sleeves rolled, messy hair against his forehead. For someone who’s been running a dessert table all night, he looks entirely too perfect.
“You’re supposed to be mingling,” I say, forcing a smile. “Your mini apple pies have been a hit.”
Everythinghe brought was a hit. But this is where Holden shines, and I hope tonight doesn’t tarnish that for him.
“Maybe I’m only interested in mingling with one person, and I had to come find her because she’s hiding in the pumpkins.”
“I’m not hidinginthe pumpkins. I’d get dirty, and I’m not hiding at all.” It’s a lie. Not just a white one. It’s blatant and ugly because I’m absolutely hiding.
He steps closer, following my gaze toward the golden blur of the reception. “I never doubted for a second that you’d pull it off, honey. Everything looks perfect.”
“Thanks.”
The word tastes bitter. He hears it; I can tell.
I hate that we’re standing here instead of slow dancing on the dance floor, eager to talk about what tomorrow holds without a ticking time clock in the distance.
This moment is just the slam of the snooze button, begging for a few more minutes to delay the inevitable.
“Your mom didn’t stick around,” he says quietly. “Sam said she left before the toast, and he sounded like it wasn’t early enough.”
“It wasn’t. She never should have been here to begin with,” I bite out.
He’s quiet for a long beat, then: “Laila, you can stop pretending this didn’t shake you.”
“I’m fine.” The words come out too fast and too dishonest. “Everyone’s fine. That’s what matters.”
“I’m not worried about everyone, honey. And you don’tlookfine.”
Something inside me wobbles. I press my lips together, but my silence says more than I mean it to. He watches me the way he does when he’s timing bread in the oven, with that unflinching patience he’s so good at.
Finally, he offers his hand. “Dance with me.”
I blink at him. “Out here?”
Memories of a slow dance in the snow intrude on my heartbreak, and I grab hold like it’s a lifeboat and it might save me from being sucked down with the sinking ship. It felt a little ridiculous before, but only because I was scared of how it made me feel. Now it feels like prolonging more pain, and I need as much of that as I can get.
“Right here.” He gestures to the ground between us. “No audience. Just us.”
A laugh slips out, small and broken. “You really think a dance fixes everything?”
“No,” he says. “But it slows the world down long enough for you to breathe.”
When I slide my fingers into his, the air shifts.
My heartbeat slows more, settling into a less frantic pace. Holden has always been home, but this moment is tainted now. Sugar sweet like the gumdrops that line the gingerbread house, only they’re laced with poison.
