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He perused the crowd as townspeople laughed and talked. Some drank hot cocoa, while others hung last-minute ornaments on the tree. Carolers on the platform, behind a podium, sang Christmas carols. A hollow feeling overwhelmed Allen’s chest. All he could think about was Heather.
“At least look like you’re having a good time,” Desmond said.
He shrugged. “It’s okay.”
“Okay? This is the event of the year and you’re not enjoying it?”
Allen rubbed at his eyebrow. “It’s nice.”
His cousin folded his arms across his chest. “This got anything to do with Heather?”
“Why?”
“Exactly, why the long face? It’s Christmas,” Desmond said.
Allen forced a smile. “I’m having a nice time.”
Morgan then hurried over to Desmond, placing a kiss to his lips. He only held her tighter and Allen’s jaw clenched.
“Having fun, Allen?” she asked him.
He nodded.
“You know there are a few single ladies out here.” Morgan gestured to the crowd.
“Morgan?” Desmond raised an eyebrow.
She raised her hand. “I know. I promised no more meddling.” She smiled at Allen. “I’m serious.”
“Thank you. I’ll let you know when I meet her.”
Desmond coughed. “I think you met her already.”
Allen’s eyes widened thankful that Morgan didn’t ask for details.
“Should we get some hot chocolate?” she asked.
“Sure,” Allen said.
Morgan kissed Desmond one more time and led him into the crowd. The wind picked up and Allen adjusted his wool cap on his head. Stuffing his hands back inside his pockets, he wished only one person was next to him.
Chapter 15
Allen walked back to the living room to join his dad, clutching the phone to his chest, his therapy session with Heather confirmed. He couldn't shake it.
Heather’s bitter smile cut him like a knife that night. Their kiss shook him to his core. He never wanted to let go.
Did he lose his mind for a second? Why did he kiss her? He ran his hand down his face. He had moved past that his marriage was over, but he never thought of caring for someone as strong as he cared for Heather.
He wanted to know more. What made her smile? Christmas was at the top of her list, and even then, he had been willing to give in to see her happy.
Then her damp eyes flashed in his mind. He hurt her. Though she shrugged him off and wished him goodnight, he walked away with a pain in the back of his throat.
“Son? Everything okay?” His father turned the pages in his copy of To Kill a Mockingbird.
Allen dragged his feet back to the living area and plopped on the couch.
“I guess not.” His father closed his paperback and faced his son.
