Lydia's Pine Harbor Christmas, стр. 6
Marco glanced up with no warning. “Lydia!” The woman turned and eyed Lydia from top to bottom.
“Lydia, this is Wendy.”
Wendy, Wendy, Wendy. This time, I’ll remember her name.
“Hi. Good to meet you.” Lydia smiled pleasantly. She’d had plenty of practice.
Wendy squeezed his hand and left, which finally cleared the way for Lydia to get into the car and stare out the window. She hated herself for feeling what she was feeling. It had a name, but Lydia was determined to ignore it so that she wouldn’t have to face it head-on. If she admitted she was jealous, it would mean all those feelings she’d been trying to bury had been waiting right there on the surface.
Marco got into the car and backed out of the parking spot. “So, birthday girl, have you had a good day?”
“Oh yeah, great!” Until five minutes ago. “So, Heidi’s new.”
His eyes darted toward her. “You mean… Wendy?”
Allie nodded vigorously, as if she’d meant to say that all along. “Yes. Wendy. She’s nice.”
“And smart. She got into three Ivy League schools but couldn’t afford them, so she’s going here for two years, then she’s planning to transfer.”
“Oh, that is smart.” So, now can I hate her?
“Yeah. I’m lost in accounting, so Wendy’s tutoring me.”
With her tongue? “Oh, that’s nice.”
“We kind of got carried away.”
“Strayed from the generally accepted accounting principles, did you?” Come on, Lydia, acting snarky isn’t becoming.
“Yeah, she’s got that look in her eyes, and I don’t want to lose a good tutor.”
Lydia leaned back and sighed. “Yeah, I hate it when that happens.”
“You’re judging me, aren’t you?”
“No.” But yes, kind of. “What’s that look for?”
“It’s a response to your look.”
Lydia tried not to look defensive. “Which was?”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Disapproval.”
“And your response?”
A moment passed. “I’m sorry.”
He’s serious. “What for?”
He gave her that soft, brown-eyed look that always, every single darned time, made her melt. Sometimes she wondered if he did it on purpose. “For disappointing you.”
“I wouldn’t say disappointed.” No, it’s more a matter of wishing I knew how to tutor accounting.
Marco stopped at a light, which was good because his unwavering gaze would have gotten them into a wreck. She had two choices—gaze back until she got “that look” in her own eyes or look away and put herself out of her misery.
An unexpected plan C threw itself into the mix. Lydia laughed. “You are so easy.” She pointed at him. “That’s your conscience doing the judging. Hey, eyes on the road. The light changed.” She grinned and mentally patted herself on the back.
He attempted a laugh, but his eyebrows wrinkled. “You’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”
“Tell you what?”
“If you were disappointed?”
Probably not. “Marco, relax. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
And to her knowledge, he hadn’t. Since she’d known him, Marco had done everything right. The guy drove her to and from school every day. Granted, he was going there too. But when things went wrong in her life, he was always there for her—as her friend.
Once home, they climbed the stairs to the apartment she shared with her mother and opened the door.
“Happy birthday!” Her mother, Eve, and her mother’s fiancé, Dylan, were there with a cake. Her mom was already lighting the candles.
It was nice. Lydia was lucky. She had people around her who loved her—or, in Marco’s case, liked her. A card from her father, whom she’d only just met, lay on the counter. That was a sore subject with Dylan, so she would save that for later. For the moment, it was her birthday celebration, and she was happy.
Lydia blew out the candles, and as they ate the cake, Marco gave her a gift card to her favorite coffee shop.
She laughed. “You know I’ll use this!”
His eyes sparkled. “I had an idea you might.” He stretched out his arms. “Happy birthday.”
They embraced. He was warm, and he felt really good—and her mother and Dylan were watching.
She pulled back a little abruptly. Oh, this feels so weird. Although I ought to be used to that feeling by now. “Thanks, Marco.” She lifted the card and looked into his eyes then quickly averted her eyes as she smiled. She could only imagine how that smile had looked, because it felt like a kindergartener’s portrait session—stunned, lips over teeth, and unnatural.
Dylan gasped and, looking way too surprised, said, “Oh, a present! We forgot! Oh no!” He frowned. At least her mother could rest easily, knowing that Dylan would never run off to Hollywood to become an actor. He was good-looking enough, for an old guy in his thirties, but acting—nope, not an option for him.
Eve said, “Follow me.”
Lydia glanced at Dylan. Yeah, something was up. They all followed.
Then her mother stopped. “I forgot a blindfold.”
Well, aren’t we being dramatic?
Eve spotted Lydia’s scarf. “That’ll do.”
She extended her hand, so Lydia gave it to her. They went outside, and Lydia discovered she wasn’t a big fan of walking blindfolded among motor vehicles. But they eventually stopped.
“Okay, you can look now.”
Lydia looked around. “You got me a parking lot for my birthday?”
She looked at Marco, but he shrugged and shook his head.
Eve held out a key.
“A car key?” Then it sank in. “A car key!”
Eve smiled. “It’s yours.” She extended her hand toward a shiny blue subcompact. “It’s a few years old, but Dylan knows a guy, and he painted and detailed it, so it’s almost like new.” Her mother looked almost as happy as Lydia was. Then she added, “Now