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“I’m sorry, Dawson.” He touches my shoulder. “I’m also not sorry.” His lips tick up. “You can sue your boss for wrongful termination, which I’m sure you already know. And, also, I have a job for you here if you want it.”
I really,reallydo want the job he’s offering. And not just because it’s with Sawyer, but because I want to work in a more rewarding position in a town I love. “I just might.”
“And Warrior is yours. If you can take a dog. I talked to Marlene.”
I gasp. “Warrior? All mine?”
“If you want her.”
I put a hand over my mouth. “Thank you so much, Sawyer. I want to hug you, but first—” I reach into my pocket and pull out the broccoli dog ornament before handing it to Sawyer.
Wide-eyed, he turns it over in his hands. “You got it back,” he whispers. When he looks at me, his eyes shine.
I run a gloved finger over it. “Cindy’s boys accidentally took it home last year.” I continue, explaining how I posted the ad for it, and how she called me on my drive home. I hold up the note I found rolled inside and read it out loud.Sawyer and Dawson, you’ll find your gifts hidden in the place where time capsules are stored.
Sawyer glances to where the loose brick still sits in the corner of the courthouse. “She put itthere?”
I smile. “Let’s hope.”
We rush over, working together to tug the brick out of place. When it’s removed, we see a plastic storage box sitting inside. We pull it out and pop the lid off, finding Eleanor’s folded note on top of what looks like a scrapbook.
After unfolding the letter, we read it using the light from my phone.
Now onto your present, Dawson and Sawyer. You two have spent quite a few days together. Days where you busted your buns for donations for the animal shelter, where you read a book of real love stories together (Sorry, Sawyer), and where you both finished performing as mice in the Nutcracker Suite. I do hope you wowed the crowd, but it’s okay if you didn’t. Now that you’ve accomplished all that, I have a scrapbook that I hope you’ll appreciate a lot more now than you would’ve before this week started. When you open it, you’ll see pictures of the two of you standing together, smiling and laughing. Probably at the expense of the other, but laughing together, nevertheless. You’ll see more pictures of the two of you, sharing stolen glances from across the room. Pictures of the adoring gazes you gave the other when you thought no one was looking. But I was looking. There’s so many of them throughout the years we spent together. These countless moments prove that what was oblivious to the two of you was completely obvious to me: you’ve always been madly in love with each other.
I stop reading, putting my hand over my heart because her words knock the wind from my chest and bring tears to my eyes. Sweet Eleanor, so wise beyond her years.
In this scrapbook, you’ll also find quotes that one of you said about the other when you were talking to me in private. Like when you, Sawyer, said, “Don’t ever tell Dawson this, but she’s probably the smartest person I know.” Or when you were drunk and said, “Dawson is so beautiful, and not just in the way she looks. But, man, she’s so hot when her chestnut hair flows in the breeze.” Okay, I might’ve had to paraphrase that last line because you were drunk and mumbling, but I think you both get the point. And you, Dawson, the time you said, “Don’t tell Sawyer I said this because I don't want his head to get any bigger, but when we hiked the Cherry Creek mountain trail, I had tons of fun hanging out with him.” Anyway, I hope by now, you’ve realized you should stop telling me things because… well, you can’t anymore, and start saying them to each other. I hope that you already have. And I hope you two have finally figured out what I have known for so long. That you were meant to be together.
I love you both to the moon and beyond, forever,
Eleanor M. Quinn
ChapterTwelve
After droppingthe scrapbook off in Sawyer’s car, we return to the tree decorated in ornaments of all shapes and colors. I hold up the broccoli dog replica and say, “I think it’s time we hang this.” It starts to snow, which looks magical in the glow of the streetlamps.
“Definitely time. It’s almost midnight.”
I step up to the tree and place the broccoli dog neatly between the Quinns’ other ornaments.
“It’s a shame you missed the earlier Quinn ornament-hanging ceremony, but honestly, this is so much better.” Sawyer looks up to let the snowflakes fall on his face.
“I was sorry about that before, but I’m thinking I might’ve got the good end of the deal here.” With all my raging emotions, the cold feels so refreshing on my cheeks. “And they really know how to do Christmas right in this town.” There’s something magical about Cherry Creek at night: the snow-brushed bricked roads, the street lamps covered in garlands, and the smell from the cookie store still wafting in the air.
We stand together, in the quiet, comfortable, like everything is with Sawyer. Finally, he shrugs and says, “I’ve got another surprise for you.”
“I’m kind of surprised out.”
“Me too, but you’ll like this one.” He sucks air through his teeth. “I hope. So, I didn’t hang my wish ornament up earlier. But I’d like to now.”
“Sure.” The way he’s looking at me makes my stomach flip flop.
Sawyer pulls something out of his pocket, then looks into my eyes, his mouth curving when he says, “Here’s my wish.” He hands me the ornament, and it’s a man holding hands with a woman, and they both have briefcases. Then I realize the man has Sawyer’s dark hair, and the woman has my wavy brown hair. I blink, my mind processing what this means. “This is you and me.”
“Yes. Together.”
My heart beats thunderously in my chest. “This is what you were picking up at Gift and Bits.”
