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“You’re welcome.”

“And to say I’ll probably not call again.”

It hurts. I didn’t think it would feel like this. This hollow space in my chest. “I can understand that.”

“You can?”

“Yes. You want to move on and leave all reminders behind, and I’m a reminder.”

“Yes, something like that. I’ll miss our talks. I really enjoy talking to you. Even though I don’t really know anything about you, not even your name, I feel like I know you.”

“Jameson. You can call me Jameson.” Why did I reveal that?

“Jameson? Is that your name?”

“Yes. It’s a family name. After my father, grandfather, and his father and so on.”

“You’re tapping again.” She laughs.

I look at my hand. I am tapping. I curl my fingers and force myself to stop. Again. “You could still call sometimes. Say hello to an old friend.” What am I doing? I’ve always known that this day would come. It’s time to let go.

“I might. I need good friends in my life.”

“We all do.”

“Goodbye, Jameson.”

“Goodbye.” She hangs up and I don’t even know her name.

Chapter Forty-Seven

The entire streetis decorated for Christmas. Inflatable snowmen and Santas sway in the gentle afternoon breeze. Lights twinkle and dangle from trees and roof lines. The air smells like snow and fireplaces, but none of the white stuff is falling yet. The neighborhood screams middle-class, happy families. Driveways are piled with cars, and I catch glimpses of people through the decorated windows. This is something I have only ever experienced in movies. My first real Christmas. It’s … surreal.

I park at the bottom of the driveway and turn the engine off, but I don’t leave my car just yet. I take in the house. A huge Christmas tree takes up most of the bay window now. The tree was not there the last time I was here.

“Get on with it, Becca,” I tell myself.

I grab the pie I purchased for tonight, the gifts I got for Tommy and Dylan and a wine bottle. I cut through the dull yellow-green lawn. Grass dusted with frost crunches underneath my boots. My hands are full, and I use my elbow to ring the doorbell, the sound melodic and inviting.

The door opens, and Tommy’s arms come around me, crushing me to his chest so fast, I barely have time to hold the pie away from my body and avoid it getting smashed between us. “I’m so happy you’re here. Merry Christmas Eve!”

“Tommy? Let my girl in, and close the door, please.” Dylan’s voice comes from somewhere in the house.

My girl.It’s only been a few weeks, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around being with Dylan. In hiding, but together. Except for River and Tommy, no one else knows.

“Merry Christmas Eve to you too.”

Tommy takes a step back into the house and pulls me in, closing the door behind me. He relieves me of the pie and wine. “Come in, make yourself comfortable. Let me put these away.” I follow Tommy into the kitchen to drop the gift bags on a chair. Dylan’s back is to me as he pokes into something inside the oven. It smells delicious, whatever it is he’s working on. The last few notes ofIt’s a Wonderful Worldplays quietly over the house speakers. Another mellow song starts.

I hesitate a few feet away, unsure of what I should do. Dylan closes the oven door, flops a dish towel over his shoulder and comes to me. He wraps an arm around my waist and kisses me on the cheek. “Merry Christmas,” he whispers into my hair. Shivers run down my neck. I want more than that chaste kiss. The corners of Dylan’s mouth turn up, his smile makes wordless promises.

“No nasty during Christmas, kids. It’s a sin.” Tommy’s voice reminds me we’re not alone. Dylan tosses the dish towel at Tommy’s head and points at him, shaking a finger. Tommy ducks and catches the towel in the air, laughing.

Dylan’s hand goes back to my waist. “You hungry? Everything should be ready in thirty minutes.”

“Starving.” It’s true. I was so nervous earlier; I couldn’t eat anything.

“Want something to nibble on? Wine?”