Page 3 of All in for Christmas
The light chatter of the party draws me back to the present, and a lead weight settles in my stomach. Might as well address the elephant in the room and clear the air between us. Deep breaths. “So,” I ask, “Puerto Rico then? It all worked out?”
“It did,” he says fondly. “That’s where I met Wendy.”
Oof. My chest hurts. Silly. Even though I broke it off, I’m not made of steel. It’s hard to think he moved on so easily. Still. I force a pleasant face. Nod, like I’m interested. Like I want to know about Wendy. “Nice!”
“Wendy was my supervisor,” he explains. “She was there on a fellowship from her private school in Boulder. She’s the one who recruited me out west.”
“Oh! So—?” I fan my face with my napkin.
“Our interactions were strictly business,” he says with an amused air. “Wendy was fifty .”
And he was twenty-two. “A- ha . I see.” I wind a lock of my hair around my finger, like I never assumed otherwise. Wrap it too tightly and my finger pinches. Throbs.
“I’m not exclusive with anyone, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Humiliation swamps through me. Gah, am I that transparent?
“And you?” he asks. “Married? Kids?”
I shake free my finger from my hair. “Nope and nope!”
“All work and no play, Paige Pierce.”
“Ha.” Nailed it. Maybe I would be involved with someone, if the right person had come along. But no one’s ever seemed just right and, after a few short months, each union’s fizzled.
Chad Quesenberry walks over in a plaid button-down shirt and circular glasses. He’s the lead guidance counselor at Walton. “Paige?” he interrupts politely. “I’d love to talk to you about your program.” I spy others over his shoulder, approaching to speak with me next.
“See you around,” Dean says quietly. His husky breath tickles my ear and electric tingles course through me.
I really need to stop having these reactions to him.
Especially since we’re now both working at Walton.
Thank goodness I’ll have the weekend to get my head on straight.
All I need is a plan for dealing with Dean, and I’m an excellent planner.
Maybe I can plug the problem into my dream journal?
Yes, there’s a thought. I’ve had success figuring out tough situations in my sleep before.
It’s like my subconscious is more adept than my conscious self at untangling those twisty knots.
All I’ll have to do is write down professional relationship with Dean , then my creative mind will fill in the blanks while I’m sleeping. Aha! Problem solved!
A high-pitched wail and a tap-tap-tap on the microphone startle us into attention a half hour later.
“ Hel-lo! ” The room turns toward Principal Peabody.
“This has been a very merry time having you all here, and getting to meet our newest addition, Dean.” A round of applause.
I search the room for Dean but don’t see him.
“Let’s give a big thanks to the PTA for supplying these delectable goodies!
” More clapping as parents standing by the door to the kitchen take a bow.
“Now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for.
” She sweeps a hand toward a table holding prettily wrapped gifts.
“Please pick out a package from our gift exchange as a fun memento from our party tonight. Happy holidays, one and all!”
Dean appears carrying a present. It’s hard to look in his eyes and not think about what was, but I need to prepare myself for precisely that. “Paige, I want you to have this.” It’s a rectangular package wrapped in reindeer paper with a bright blue bow.
“Oh no, I couldn’t. That’s meant for someone else.” When I opted into the gift exchange, I imagined selecting a random gift, not being given one specifically by Dean.
“I think it’s just what you need,” he says sassily. “A little dose of holiday cheer.”
I cling to the package, trying not to tremble.
Darn it . I’m not doing so great at separating the personal from the professional, but all I need is practice.
There’s nothing in the county handbook saying two teachers can’t be friends.
Which Dean and I should be, naturally. It’s our history of having been more than friends that complicates things. Dream journal. Right. On it.
Dean nods at the package. “I found it downtown at the holiday market, and somehow it called to me. The older lady I bought it from was very mysterious about its properties, saying it can foretell the future, change lives .”
“Tall order,” I say wryly. I don’t mention that change is not on my top-ten list. I don’t have to. I’ve been this way forever.
“The seller’s assertion was a little out there, it’s true. But hey! You never know, do you?”
“About?”
“Life?” He shrugs. “Fate?” He leans closer and his spicy scent washes over me. “Magical gifts from the holiday market?” There’s an impish gleam in his eyes and I chuckle.
“Come on, you don’t really mean it. Magic?”
“Why not magic?” he replies. “Stranger things have happened.” Still the same old Dean. Powerfully optimistic. I was the realist between us.
“Have not .”
“Maybe not in your book, Paige, but there’s still room for a bit of mystery in mine, and there’s no greater mystery than Christmas magic.”
I gasp playfully. “And this vendor convinced you of that?”
Dean holds open his hands. “She was dressed like Mrs. Claus, so fairly authoritative, I’d say.” I chuckle at his serious look.
“What if I hadn’t been here?” My eyebrows arch. “Who would have received your mysterious package then?”
Dean rubs his chin. “Someone in for a whole lot of Christmas magic, it seems.”
“If you say so, Dean.” I realize that sounds a bit flirty and my cheeks warm.
“I say so.” The package shifts in my grasp and something moves around inside it. Maybe it’s a set of tea towels? Or a tree skirt? Perfect. It can go with all the Christmas tree ornaments I own for the Christmas tree I never buy. But something that’s actually magic? Ha!
I indicate the gift table. “Aren’t you going to pick something out?”
Dean shakes his head. “I don’t want anything this Christmas,” he says, looking certain.
“I’m already getting what I want. A once-in-a-lifetime chance.
” He glances toward the courtyard and up at the darkened night.
“There’s a big astronomical event happening tonight.
The Christmas Comet. I suppose you’ve read about it in the news?
” I shake my head no. “Some say it was the same light the Magi followed, mistaking it for a bright star.” He gestures with his hand.
“You should try to catch it. The clouds are supposed to lift later. It should put on quite a show.”
“When?” I recall stargazing with him and being snuggled in his arms. But he’s surely snuggling with somebody else now. Her name doesn’t have to be Wendy and they don’t have to be exclusive. My noses twitches anxiously and I rub it.
He squints, thinking. “Oh, around midnight?”
I sigh and answer, “I’ll be fast asleep by then.”
“Suit yourself. You’re missing something special.” The sparkle in his eyes makes me question whether I missed something special in him. “How about you?” he asks. “Want anything in particular from Santa?”
“I’ve already gotten my wish,” I say happily. “Approval for my Paws and Read program. I’m so excited about starting it up at the beginning of next year.”
“Good for you.” He sinks his hands in his pockets.
“You always had a fondness for animals.” He must recall how I volunteered at the local animal shelter while in college.
Growing up, I sadly never had a dog. We were on a tight budget and Mom said we couldn’t afford pets. “Any dogs of your own?” he queries.
“Not yet.” I shrug, adding hopefully, “But maybe someday?”
He smiles wistfully. “Yeah, same.” The crowd in the cafeteria disperses, with PTA volunteers clearing the tables.
It’s obvious we need to leave, too. Though part of me hangs on, not wanting to go.
Judging by the way Dean’s gaze lingers on me, it’s like he feels the same.
Others pick out their gifts, walking toward the hall.
No one seems to be opening their presents here.
“So I should just take this home and—” I lift a shoulder.
His eyes dance. “Enjoy it.”
My face heats and I hug Dean’s gift harder. “Okay then, thanks.”
“Happy holidays, Paige. It’s really great seeing you again.”
His grin melts my heart in a way that is not good or helpful, when I’m trying so hard to stay over him, and the tiniest part of me can’t help but wonder—how our lives might have been different if we’d never broken up?