Focusing on her, I do what maybe she’s been waiting for from me. “Dean’s happiness, his goals and dreams, are partially mine too. Loving him means sharing them, not wanting to diminish them.”
“And if he got transferred?” She counters.
“Then we’d figure it out.”
“I see the hesitation in your eyes. You’re just as career focused as he is. That’s what worries me sometimes.”
I can understand that. She loves her son and doesn’t want to see him hurt or held back. “And what if I got transferred? It’s the same thing, we would find a way. I truly believe that. Dean and I . . . well, there’s no one else for me.”
Mrs. Pritchard takes my hand in both of hers. “Then hold on to each other, Holly. Don’t let me or anyone else stand in your way. Life is short, so love him like tomorrow may not come.”
My heart aches for her as a tear trickles down her cheek. She loved her husband so deeply, and even though it’s been ten years, I can hear the pain in her voice.
“I will.”
“When I lost my husband I remember wishing I hadn’t fought him on the little things, you know?”
I nod. “My mother felt the same.”
“Dean mentioned your father passed a few years ago.”
“Yes, four.”
“That must’ve been hard.”
She has no idea. I was everything to my father. He doted on me, and I would’ve done anything to make him happy. We lost him so fast that there was no time to prepare. Not that anyone can ever really be ready, but he was fine one day and gone the next.
A massive heart attack.
A massive hole in my heart.
“It’s been difficult, but my mother and I have wonderful memories.”
She pats my hand. “The memories are what get us through, even on the holidays.”
“And the people who are still alive.”
Mrs. Pritchard smiles. “Yes, it’s important to have family around us.”
The holidays are bittersweet for me. I’m glad that I have Dean and people around me I love, but I miss my daddy. I think about all the things he’ll never be a part of. He didn’t get to meet Dean or see where we live. He’ll never get to walk me down the aisle if I get married or hold my children. The holidays are a time I think about that loss more, yet I’m also happy for what I do have.
“I am really glad you came, Mrs. Pritchard.”
“Oh, none of that. You’re family now, you can call me Mom or Kayti.”
I smile at her, wanting to cry. “Thank you, Mom.”
She squeezes my hand. “No tears. We have a lot to do for this dinner. Come on, Holly, let’s teach you how to make mashed potato pie. If you’re going to host Christmas dinner from now on, you’ll need to be sure it’s always on the table. It’s a Pritchard family tradition.”
I fight back the sudden surge of emotions that come with her wanting to show me their family recipe. My lip trembles, and I force a smile. “Thank you.”
She pats my back, her voice soothing. “It’s me who should be thanking you, dear. You’re what every mother hopes her son will find. Now, are you ready to get in the kitchen?”
I nod. “But first, can you tell me what the heck mashed potato pie is?”
“It’s a dish best experienced.” She winks and I wonder what the heck I got myself into.
“Where are you?” I ask into the receiver. “My mother got here an hour ago and you haven’t called.”
Dean let’s out a heavy sigh. “What time is it?”
“Almost nine.”
Seven hours have passed, and he’s been completely silent. Not even responding to my texts. It wasn’t until I emailed his assistant that he finally called me.
“Jesus. I . . . it’s a shitshow here and I can’t leave.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry, Holls. I’m trying, but the client is in an uproar, and if I lose him—.” He groans. “I can’t even think about it.”
I take a deep breath. “Can I help?”
“I wish you could, but . . . look it’s bad and right now, I may have to fly out to do this in person. This is the big company I brought in and . . .”
He doesn’t have to explain that if the client walks, he’ll lose his job. I know if I were to assure him that if that happened—which I don’t think it would—we’d be okay on my salary, he wouldn’t change his mind.
Dean is driven, and its part of why I’m so attracted to him. He needs to fix this, not just because it’s his job but because it matters to him.
“I understand. Listen, do whatever you have to, but Christmas is in two days.”
“Believe me, sweetheart, I know.”
“When would you leave?” I ask, feeling a slight tinge of disappointment at even the idea of him going.
“Tonight. Tomorrow. I don’t know.”
There’s no mistaking the sadness in his voice. Even if I want to be mad, I can’t be. Dean doesn’t want to miss Christmas any more than I want him to.
“Okay, well, you tell me what you need, and we’ll . . . we’ll just have to adjust.”
I start to make contingency plans because I won’t let this ruin our holiday. It’s important that this year goes off without any issues. The first year, everything was so new because we’d just survived being trapped in an elevator. But it was the holidays so it felt like some magical twist.
The next year, we had the most amazing time. And I knew. I knew that Dean was everything.
He means presents under the tree, dinner with family, snow, and smiles—not work disasters in Tokyo.
However, like I told his mother, I love
