Bucket lists and midnigh.., p.1
Bucket Lists and Midnight Kisses, page 1
BUCKET LISTS & MIDNIGHT KISSES
by Marie Landry
Copyright Marie Landry 2023
All rights reserved
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual people, places, or events, living or dead, is coincidental.
Character illustration by Qamber Emporium
Cover designed by Marie Landry
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Also by Marie Landry
Dedication
Content Guidance
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Letter to the reader
Acknowledgments
About the Author
ALSO BY MARIE LANDRY
*Blue Sky Days
*The Most Wonderful Time of the Year
*Waiting for the Storm (Angel Island #1)
*After the Storm (Angel Island #2)
*Take Them by Storm (Angel Island #3)
*Only You
*Maybe You
*Hung Up on You
*A Very Perry Christmas
*A Very Perry Wedding
*Escaping Christmas
*Matchmaking & Mixtapes
*Reunions & Ruses
*Do-Overs & Mixed Signals
Coming Autumn 2023:
*Silver Bells & Serendipity
DEDICATION
For anyone who has ever been told they’re too soft, too sensitive, or feel too much. As Fergus would say, your softness is your superpower. Remember that. Embrace it. Don’t let the world make you hard.
And for Mum. Always.
CONTENT GUIDANCE
While Bucket Lists & Midnight Kisses is mostly a lighthearted, fun romance, it does deal with some heavy topics that might be sensitive to some readers.
Louisa’s mother died when she was a teenager, and her father became fiercely overprotective. His attempts to keep Louisa safe from harm caused her to develop severe anxiety that eventually developed into agoraphobia. Through therapy, Louisa is managing her anxiety, but still deals with some, particularly of the social variety. Serious anxiety is something I’ve experienced myself, so I tried to handle these topics with as much care and compassion as possible.
There are also mentions of other deaths within both Louisa’s and Fergus’s families, and the grief they still experience.
This book also contains mild swearing and alcohol consumption.
CHAPTER ONE ~ LOUISA
“And how does that make you feel, Louisa?”
After a decade and a half of therapy, I’ve come to expect this question. I’ve also come to hate it in a way; if I knew the answer, would I have scheduled an emergency Zoom therapy session that’s costing more than usual because it’s Christmas Eve?
I suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly. How does it make me feel that my best friend is leaving tomorrow to spend a week and a half in London with her new boyfriend? Hollie will be gone for Christmas and New Year’s Eve, which also happens to be my thirty-fifth birthday. Even though we had an impromptu early Christmas celebration with our other best friends and their boyfriends, it’s not quite the same. We’ve known each other our entire lives and have always seen each other at Christmas.
“I feel…conflicted,” I say finally. “One part silly because we’re adults and it’s unrealistic to expect to always be together for holidays. One part sad because so much has changed recently and this is one more thing. One part guilty for feeling sad. And one part—I’d like to think the biggest part—happy because my friends are in love and they deserve that.”
“They do, yes,” Dr. Woo says. “And, may I remind you, you deserve happiness too. The conflicted feelings are natural; you’ve always struggled with change, and you’ve experienced a lot of it over the last several months. You’ve watched your three closest friends pair off and fall in love. Now this.”
“I really am happy for them, though,” I say quickly.
Dr. Woo smiles gently. “Of course you are, but it’s perfectly normal for you to have mixed feelings underneath. Your feelings are valid, Louisa.”
Dr. Woo is sitting in what I assume is her home office. This is the first time I’ve ever seen her with her hair down; it’s usually in a neat chignon or braid, but tonight it cascades over her shoulders in glossy, dark waves. She’s been my therapist since I was twenty. I should have started seeing someone six years earlier when my mom died, but my dad wouldn’t hear of it. He wouldn’t hear of a lot of things after my mom died. He pulled me out of classes to homeschool me for my last two years of high school. He would only let me go out with my three best friends and their families. Even then, I had a strict curfew and he had to know where I was at all times and how to reach me. He became afraid of the outside world and all its many perils and, as a result, so did I.
“How do you feel you’re coping with everything?” Dr. Woo asks.
“Okay, I think?” It comes out sounding like a question. I try again. “I’m coping well. I’ve been working, sleeping and eating well, plus exercising daily.”
“Good, good.” Dr. Woo nods approvingly. “Keep that up. With the holidays looking different for you this year, I want you to be sure you don’t shut yourself away or cut yourself off from your friends. It would be easy to tell yourself that Evie and Stella are too busy with their new partners, but they love you and want to spend time with you. They’re there if you feel unsteady or need someone to lean on. Remember that. Don’t let the gremlins in your head tell you otherwise.”
I laugh under my breath. When I started therapy all those years ago, I referred to my intrusive thoughts as gremlins. The negative self-talk could take over so easily and was tricky, wily, and sometimes downright nasty. Dr. Woo eventually picked up the term herself, and that was when I knew I’d made the right decision to start therapy and stick with it, even though it was painful. These days, I only make appointments as needed, and Dr. Woo is willing to fit me in for emergencies, like today.
“I promise not to listen to them,” I tell her.
“Good.” I can’t see what she’s doing, but I hear pages rustling and the tapping of a pen on a hard surface. “How are things with Fergus?”
My cheeks heat at the mention of my friend-turned-crush. He was friends with Hollie first, and she invited him to Thanksgiving at Evie’s parents’ place in October. He became part of our expanding friend group after that night, and we’ve spent a lot of time together since. I’m normally painfully shy and nervous around men—I tend to either clam up or babble, all while sweating and experiencing a non-stop internal diatribe from the gremlins—but it was different with Fergus from that first night. There was something about him that put me at ease, even while butterflies used my stomach and esophagus as a playground.
“Nothing has changed, if that’s what you’re asking,” I say. “He’s been good to me and for me. Just like my other friends.”
Dr. Woo makes a hum of acknowledgment. “And you’re still certain he doesn’t return your romantic feelings?”
I swallow a sigh. “I’m sure. He would have said something by now or made a move.” As much as I wish the sexy Scotsman saw me as something other than a friend, it’s clear he doesn’t, despite what my friends keep saying. It’s fine, though; Fergus is kind and thoughtful, attentive and sweet. Not only do I feel at ease around him, I also feel more confident, like I’m able to do more of the things that once frightened me. He’s aware of my anxiety and my limitations, and he’s been patient and encouraging, which isn’t something I can say about everyone that’s come in and out of my life over the years.
After a few more minutes, Dr. Woo and I wrap up our session. We wish each other happy holidays, and I thank her profusely for seeing me on such short notice.
“I’d like you to make another appointment in the new year, preferably an in-person one,” she says. “A follow-up to see how you fared over the holidays.” She shifts in her chair, and I think she’s going to say goodbye and disconnect, but she hesitates. “I want you to remember how strong you are, Louisa. How far you’ve come. I can see a change in you since our last meeting, and I’m proud of the work you’ve done and the ways you’ve continued to step outside your comfort zone and take chances. I’d like for you to keep that in mind over the next week as your birthday and the new year approach, and find new ways to continue your growth. Spend some time with the people you love, but try to do something unexpected too, okay? I believe in you.”
I’m teary eyed as I thank her. She wishes me a happy early birthday, and we disconnect.
Do something unexpected. For some reason, my mind goes straight to Fergus. I’ve toyed with the idea of asking him out, but the ve
I get up from the couch and pace around the living room. When my phone pings, I assume it’s Hollie with more instructions for keeping an eye on her house while she’s away with Spencer. My heart gives a strange little squeeze when I see the text notification is from Fergus.
Lulu, are you busy right now? Can I come over for a few minutes?
As I type out my response—Sure, come on over—I can’t help wondering if this is a sign from the universe, a nudge to take action. I have been known to hesitate, after all. With my birthday only a week away, I’m going to need to muster every last ounce of courage if I want to accomplish Dr. Woo’s suggestion of doing something unexpected.
CHAPTER TWO ~ FERGUS
I pull into the tiny parking lot behind the row of shops where Louisa’s apartment is. From here, I can see the lights on in the living room of her apartment directly above Stitched With Love. The string of colorful lights I hung around her windows earlier this month are illuminated, and I can just make out the glow of her small Christmas tree inside. I wonder if she switched them on for my benefit when I asked to come over, since I doubt she’s feeling all that festive tonight.
At our group Christmas celebration two days ago, I kept a close eye on Louisa and, despite her attempts to hide it, I could see the lingering sadness in her eyes when she thought no one was paying attention. She’s a creature of habit, our Louisa, and having her closest friend take off to London at the last minute must be throwing her for a loop.
With my recent purchases in hand, I make my way to the back door of the building. After Lulu buzzes me in, I pause and use the streaky window as a mirror to prepare my surprise before climbing the stairs to the second floor.
Louisa opens the door before I can knock. She stares at me for a beat, eyes wide, and then laughs so hard she has to use the door jam for support. It’s the best sound I’ve heard all day, and the sight of her pink cheeks and sparkling eyes makes the itchy beard and fluffy red hat worth it.
“Well, hey there, Santa,” she says. “You’re a few hours early. Aren’t you supposed to wait until after I go to bed?”
“Aye, normally.” I step past her when she moves aside to let me in. “But I come bearing gifts in the form of festive food, and it would be a shame if you were asleep and couldn’t enjoy them.” I hold up the bakery bag stamped with the logo of our favorite café, Cravings.
Her eyes go wide once more as she plucks the bag from my fingers and peers inside. “Mince pies! How did you manage this? They’ve been sold out of them every single time I’ve been there this month.”
“Santa has his ways,” I say with an enigmatic smile, tapping the side of my nose the way I’ve seen my cousin Hugh do when he plays Santa. Louisa expressed her disappointment to me a week or so ago at her inability to find mince pies at any of the bakeries, cafés, or supermarkets in Bellevue. Since mince pies were always a holiday tradition back home in Scotland, I filed that wee tidbit away and kept an eye out during my travels around town. When I couldn’t find any, I beseeched Willow Stewart, the co-owner of Cravings, to make a special batch for Louisa, and she happily obliged. I picked them up half an hour ago after borrowing part of my cousin’s Santa suit.
“You are the absolute best,” Louisa says. “Will you come in and have one of these with me, or do you have to get back to your sleigh?”
“I’ve got plenty of time.” I resist the urge to say ‘I’m all yours’. I can imagine how she’d react: a pretty blush followed by a nervous giggle, with the wheels almost visibly turning in her mind as she comes up with a response she won’t say out loud.
“Great. Coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate? Whisky?” She smirks as she says the last one; when she found out about my fondness for a good Scottish whisky—or scotch as it’s called here—she bought a bottle to keep on hand.
“Tea with a splash of whisky would hit the spot.”
She tells me she’ll meet me in the living room in a minute, so I take my time shucking my boots, hanging up the red velvet Santa jacket and matching hat, and removing the big white beard. I may have only worn the get-up for a few minutes, but it was worth it to see the grin on Lulu’s face.
In the living room, I sit and admire the Christmas tree. It’s small, only about four feet tall, and decorated with an assortment of colorful baubles, woodland creatures in wee scarves and hats, and lacy snowflakes. Before long, Louisa enters the room carrying a tray with a plate of tarts, two cups of tea, and the bottle of whisky.
“Did you know children in Scotland leave mince pies for Father Christmas instead of biscuits? And whisky is often customary in place of the milk you lot leave here in Canada and the States.” I add a splash of whisky to my tea and hold up the bottle in offering.
“No, I didn’t know that,” she says, holding out her cup. “Just a tiny bit.”
“A wee nip,” I say. She grins and, even though she’s looking at the cup rather than at me, the flash of her smile fills me with warmth. “So, I spoke to Spencer earlier and offered to drive him and Hollie to the airport tomorrow. They insisted they’d take the bus, but I said traveling on Christmas Day was bad enough, they could at least have a friend act as their personal chauffeur. Or friends, if you’d consider coming along for the ride.”
Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “I’d love to. It’d be nice to have a couple extra hours with Hollie.”
“That’s what I thought. And we’d be back in time to catch the tail end of the Christmas party at Evie’s parents’ place.”
“Wow, you’ve thought of everything.”
I’ve certainly tried to. This week will likely be difficult for Louisa with Hollie gone, but I’m hoping she’ll let me step in and help fill the void. The majority of the time we’ve spent together since October has been in a group setting, and I’m hoping this week will present opportunities for us to spend time alone.
For weeks, I’ve been biding my time for the right moment to tell Louisa how I feel about her. She’s confessed her aversion to dating, her nervousness around most men, and what she considers a general lack of experience in the romance department, so I don’t want to frighten or overwhelm her. I do want her to see what I see when I look at her, though: an incredible woman who’s intelligent, funny, sweet, and beautiful.
If I can do that, maybe Louisa will open up and admit what I’ve known for some time, which is that my feelings for her aren’t one sided. I haven’t missed the way she watches me or the longing in her eyes when she thinks I’m not paying attention. Nor have I missed the hushed conversations with her friends when I’m just out of earshot, where they shoot surreptitious glances in my direction. Subtlety is not one of Louisa’s many charms, but to come right out and say what I’m feeling would be to risk frightening her off or causing her to clam up. That’s the last thing I want.
I’ve done my best to be a friend and show her she can trust me, count on me. I love spending time with her, and although it’s difficult sometimes not to act on impulses—for instance, she gnaws on her lip sometimes when she’s nervous, and it makes me want to nibble on that lip myself—I haven’t. And I won’t, not until she’s ready.
We settle back on the couch and sip our tea in silence. In the time we’ve known each other, Louisa has gone through three phrases: at first, she was shy around me and didn’t say much. She’d speak when spoken to and we even had some interesting and memorable talks, but she almost never initiated conversation. After that was a short period where she spoke in quick, run-on sentences and attempted to fill every silence with chatter. This newest phase is my favorite; she’s relaxed and seems comfortable around me, chatting easily, or allowing companionable silence to fill the space between us, like now.
