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“Excellent! And who knows, your help with this might be the sort of thing to sway the DV8 selection committee in your favor.”

“Let’s hope so.” Again, Beth’s smile seems to dim with overwhelm, but she masks it well.

I clear my throat. They turn to look at me.

“Seems like a lot of work,” I say. “It’s almost December already. You sure you don’t want to postpone the event until next year?”

“No way.” My mom shakes her head, and Beth mirrors her. “Why put off for tomorrow what we can do today? That’s what I always say.”

“We can handle it,” Beth agrees. She meets my stare with a challenging glower of her own. I can practically hear her thoughts: Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do, Gabe.

I hold up my hands in surrender. “Suit yourselves. I just would hate to see you guys work so hard you fail to enjoy the holiday season.”

My mom smirks at me. “This from the man who is booked with performances the entire month of December.”

I open my mouth to argue. I can’t help it that people want to come hear me sing as part of their holiday traditions. Even if I’m not a big fan of the holiday itself.

My mom waves me off. “Don’t worry about it, Gabe. We have everything under control. Between the two of us, the Christmas Dash will go off without a hitch. It’ll become the new it event in Dasher Valley.”

“If you say so,” I sigh. “Are you ready to go?”

“Alright, yes. We’ve gotta get going. Beth, I’ll be in touch early next week to discuss details, and we can get a plan in place for the Dash.” My mom gives Beth another hug.

I have to give myself a mental shake because I’m jealous.

I miss Beth’s hugs.

No matter how cold she acts toward me, I still miss her. I miss us.

“You know where to find me.” Beth smiles at my mom as she eases away, straightening a bow on that blasted strand of garland.

“See you soon! Come on, Gaber.” With a finger wave, she strolls off.

I start to follow her but stop and glance back at Beth.

She shifts on her feet before looking up at me. Way up. I’ve got her by a foot. For one foolish minute, I think about how if we were a couple and we were shopping together on Black Friday, I could have retrieved the garland for her no problem. She wouldn’t have had to scale the shelves.

But that’s a ridiculous thought.

I made my choice to pursue music. No matter that I had a good excuse for doing so. No matter that I hoped we’d be able to work it out between us. She didn’t give me that chance. That ticked me off, but I’d lay my armor down if she said the word.

“How’s Jack?” I ask. It’s pathetic that the only thing I can think of to talk to her about is her brother, but this is the most time I’ve spent in her presence in five years, and I don’t want it to end.

“Good. He’s good.”

I nod. “Good. And the bookstore?”

“It’s good. Busy.”

“I’m sure.” I dip my chin.

Peppermint pancakes, this is awkward. Beth and I never did small talk. We were too busy debating who was more iconic, Stevie Nicks or Stevie Wonder. Or trying to re-create holiday bake-off recipes in her dorm kitchen.

I take a deep breath and tell her the truth. Talk that isn’t small.

“It’s good to see you.” My words are low and a little rough. She flinches, but I plow ahead. “Take care of yourself.”

She stares at me for a beat before turning and walking in the opposite direction, her strand of garland clenched in her grip.