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“Dawson,” he says.
“Yes,” I whisper.
We’re three inches apart, then two, then one when my phone buzzes.
Then it buzzes again. It’s The Crusher. Ugh. What does he wantnow? I worked late last night and got him the disclosure agreement this morning, a day early.
Crusher:Emergency, Dawson. Bradley deposition has been rescheduled for 26th, and we need you back in the office on the 25th for discovery.
The twenty-fifth?
I punch back a response.Can we discuss this? That’s Christmas day, and I’m still out of town.
Not to mention that this year, Christmas falls on a Sunday.
My boss doesn’t text again, and I hope this means he understands I won’t be in the office on the twenty-fifth. But the exchange has yanked me back to the real world—the one where I live and work in Atlanta, and Sawyer lives and works here in Cherry Creek. If we allow ourselves to get physical, it’ll only lead to more hurt when I leave. “We should read the rest of Eleanor’s letter. Get her next challenge,” I say, my voice croaky.
“Right.”
We both look back at the paper, but my hands tremble as I try to catch my breath. I don’t know it’s from what almost happened with Sawyer, or the news from The Crusher. Both?
Challenge number four, your final challenge, is the easiest one. Get the broccoli dog ornament, which you’re going to hang on the town’s tree on Christmas Eve, anyway. The instructions to where to find your final letter and presents from me are inside.
Love you to the moon and beyond,
Eleanor M. Quinn
There’s a silence, tension building in the air as the realization hits.
“Oh, no.” Sawyer rakes a hand through his hair. “That ornament. Which is lost. Now what?”
I swallow hard. “I don’t know.” I feel sick inside as reality dawns on me. There’s no way we’ll be able to get to our gifts from her.
So, really, this is our final letter from Eleanor. Shivers mixed with grief and gratitude shimmer down my body, and it feels like I’m saying goodbye all over again. Sawyer must feel it too because he takes me in his arms and we hug, a gripping embrace, for so long, our heartbeats sync.
It’s a dragging, painful moment before I pull away, trying to focus on the positive. “At least we got to do all the challenges Eleanor wanted, and now we can finish the most important part—giving Dante the letter from her.”
“I guess.” He stares into the distance, his jaw clenched. “I’m not ready to let go.”
I squeeze my eyes shut to fight off another tear that’s about to escape. “I’m not sure we’ll ever be ready to let go. Gifts or no gifts.”
“That’s probably true.”
“So, let’s be glad for all the things we did get from her this Christmas. So much more than I even expected,” I say, but my heart is broken, and by Sawyer’s face, so is his.
ChapterNine
It’s performance day.And Christmas Eve. We’re backstage, and I think I’m going to cry. I look at the mouse head I have to put on, and just the thought makes me feel like I’m suffocating. Glancing at Sawyer, I swallow back a wave of nerves when I say, “I’m gonna hurl.”
“You’re not gonna hurl.” After studying my face, he says, “You are a little green. If you’re going to do it, do it now. Donotbarf in the mouse head.” His arm swings around me, which is so comforting after everything we’ve been through this past week. But I know there’s much more to it than that.
“No barfing in the mouse head,” I repeat.
“I want you to close your eyes and think about the happiest memory you have.” He cocks his head as he studies me. “Got it?”
“Yes. That’s not even a hard one. Remember that summer when you, me, Eleanor, and some college friends went to that beach house? We spent the days in the ocean and the nights by campfire talking, drinking, and laughing?”
“Of course, I remember that trip. It was one of my favorites too.”
