They got hot cocoa at The Daily Grind—the good kind with whipped cream and a drizzle of chocolate syrup on top—and took it out to the green. Wishful had rolled out its holiday finery weeks ago, and as the sun set, twinkle lights lit up every street lamp, wreath, Christmas tree, and store window. As a rule, Chad loved this time of year. He loved, too, this town he’d decided to call home. But it was impossible not to admit that he loved it more when he was with the woman at his side. The woman who looked vaguely queasy.
“I’m really sorry, Chad. I know I said that already, but it bears repeating.” She looked off toward the fountain, both gloved hands wrapped around her to-go cup. “I have prided myself on being so level-headed and well-adjusted about my breakup with Judd. I know, on every log
