Christmas in Castleview Cove by VH Nicolson EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author: VH Nicolson
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Series: None
- Price: Free
- File Size: 1 MB
HOLLY – THREE WEEKS BEFORE CHRISTMAS
Preparing myself for what’s about to happen, the wooden stairs I’m
sitting on creak underneath me as I lengthen my spine and push my shoulders
back, willing false confidence to hide how utterly wrecked I feel.
Ironically, the faint sound of my favorite Christmas song, ‘Last
Christmas’ by Wham! melodically floats from the radio in my kitchen into
the hallway.
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This is Travis’ first… and last Christmas with me.
“Hey, Holly.” Travis closes my front door, and a faint gust of unwelcome
frosty air enters my snug home, hitting my shins, and causing me to shiver.
I clench my fingers together on my lap and throw him the sweetest smile
I can muster. “Hi.”
“What’s this?” He points to the black trash bags piled up on the wooden
floor.
“Your stuff.” I grin wider, continuing to stare at him, which must make
me look like a homicidal maniac.
“What?” He begins removing his thick woolen overcoat.
Stopping him in his tracks, I firmly say, “Keep your coat on. You won’t
be staying.”
“Sugar?” Confusion runs deep along the wrinkles of his forehead.
“Don’t. Call. Me. Sugar,” I mutter. My clenched jaw wants to roar out the
words… scream them out loud, and finally tell him that I hate his pet name
for me, but I don’t. I refuse to let him see the humiliation I feel deep in my
bones.
I’ve hated that stupid name since the first time he called me it when we
started dating six months ago.
Six months. What a waste.
Pushing his hands into the pockets of his coat, Travis continues to look at
me like I’ve grown a set of reindeer antlers.
I’ve got to hand it to him—the bemused look he’s giving me is the exact
same look that’s lined his face for the past two months. The one plastered on
his face every time I’ve questioned him about where he’s been when he
doesn’t come home for dinner, or why he’s been working until midnight, or
why, suddenly, his manager sends him away on overnight ‘business trips’
when he works in a call center for an insurance company, that requires no
travel. Or overtime. Ever.
He scoffs nervously, stepping backward. It’s almost as if he knows I
know.
Beads of sweat shimmer across his forehead and I’m positive it’s not the
heat of my cozy house that’s causing him to sweat as much as he is.
“I-I don’t understand,” he stutters lowly.
I wave my hand over the bags as if I’m a magician’s assistant. “All of
your belongings.” I pause before delivering my killer blow. “I’m kicking you
out. It’s amazing how much shit you’ve accumulated, considering you don’t
officially live here.” He’s been wedging his way in day by day, it would
seem, and I never even noticed.
“What?” he gasps, as if he wasn’t expecting my reaction. “Why?”
“Do you really need me to explain?” I ask, my tone flat.
“You can’t kick me out.” Looking panicked, he arcs his neck, twisting it
side to side, then runs his finger inside the collar of his white dress shirt.
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