Lydia's Pine Harbor Christmas, стр. 13
“Can you handle the bar?”
Despite looking thoroughly puzzled, Theo said, “Yes.”
“Good.” Marco went upstairs and closed the door to his room.
What is wrong with me? That was an excellent question. The short answer was “a lot.” Allie had figured it out, and he was pretty sure that his brother knew something was up.
Marco had feelings for Lydia. He should never have allowed it to happen. The only reason he’d let himself get close to her was that they were just friends. If they had been dating, he would have ended it by now. But their friendship had meant something to him, so he had allowed it to deepen, and he was in over his head. He thought back and tried to pinpoint when things went so desperately wrong.
Lydia had taught him to crochet. That alone should have been a red flag. If anyone else had suggested it, he would have told them what they could do with their yarn balls and hook. Maybe Lydia’s crochet hook was enchanted and invisibly wrapped around his neck. There were crazier explanations for what was happening to him.
From there, things progressed to their brief life of crime—hacking into Decker’s real estate presentation. Until then, Marco’s impression of Lydia had been of a quiet schoolmarm type who strictly followed the rules. But she had jumped right in and committed to the project, whatever the cost, and he loved her for that—not loved, liked. He just liked her as a friend and a partner in crime.
He smiled as he recalled the moment Theo had caught them red-handed, made them confess, then assigned what he thought was an appropriate punishment. Theo’s version of community service was cleaning the toilets in the brewpub. It wasn’t the sort of thing Marco would have expected to laugh his way through, but that was what they’d done. It was gross, but they had gloves and masks—that was Lydia’s idea—and they laughed about it as they got the job done. Lydia made up a competition that involved dividing the bathroom in half and competing for speed and quality. They were about to ask Theo to judge when he interrupted and granted them both a reprieve.
Maybe that was what had cemented their friendship. If two people could enjoy cleaning a restaurant bathroom, they could conquer the world. Whatever the glue was that bound them together, from that day on, they remained close. After that, an hour didn’t go by without them messaging one another. It was effortless then. Why can’t we just go back to that window in time?
But what sent them over the line was the day they went searching for Lydia’s father. She would have gone there alone, but she looked so vulnerable that Marco didn’t hesitate. He knew he had to protect her. He still felt that way. Yet he had just hurt her feelings. She didn’t deserve that.
He pulled out his phone and sent her a text. Sorry. I’m a jerk. Bad day. Bad mood. Sorry.
And you think that’s enough?
I was hoping. He waited. Maybe she wasn’t really angry with him, but he’d caught her at a bad time. He waited five more minutes. Lydia?
Marco tried periodically throughout the evening but was rewarded with silence. Okay, I guess that means she’s angry.
Eight
Marco looked at himself in the rearview mirror as he sat in the parking lot behind the Gallery. Today’s a new day, and things always look brighter in the morning—for the sun. I’m not so sure about you. In fact, you look like a guy who hasn’t slept, which sounds about right.
He was stalling. Lydia had her lunch break in two minutes, so he didn’t have much time to waste. He drew in a deep breath. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it had to be done. So he sucked it up and got out of the car.
When he walked into the shop, he noticed a pair of gray-haired women within earshot of the counter, where Lydia stood scanning a box of new notepads. She glanced up with her pleasant shopgirl expression then, seeing it was Marco, shifted to a narrow-eyed look that nearly made Marco shiver. It was going to be a steep uphill climb. She averted her eyes, first looking at the customers then at random points in the shop—anywhere but at Marco. He pretended to examine various items as he casually browsed. He was actually skulking, which wasn’t his style at all. But feeling that way wasn’t his style either. This was just too darned uncomfortable.
With nothing to do but wait for the customers to make a decision and leave, he relived the highlights of his sleepless night. For some reason, Lydia’s new boyfriend annoyed him. That had cost him thirty minutes of sleep right there. But for twenty more minutes, he thought of how happy she seemed with Bryce. That was twenty minutes he could have been sleeping. He pondered the pertinent question of whether his dislike for Bryce was significant enough to justify interfering with Lydia’s happiness. Sometime during that mental debate, he realized what he wanted was irrelevant. Dating Bryce was Lydia’s choice. She had the right to choose what made her happy, even if it made Marco unhappy. And unhappy he was—profoundly and miserably—enough to wallow in it until he drifted to sleep. Two hours of sleep was all he had left, and it had to be enough to get him through the day.
When he finally slept, Marco did not dream of Lydia. That would have been more than he deserved. Instead, he awoke with her name on his lips and the knowledge that he did indeed like her. It was as much of an epiphany as Marco had ever had. But liking Lydia was fine—or it ought to have been. They had been friends for months. Of course he would like her. But a friend would have been happy for a friend who found romance, because friendship