Because a minute is actually turning out to be a lot longer than a minute. A minute is turning out to be the extra five minutes she’d been able to stay in that storage room at The Bean Dream, before she would have missed her flight.

A minute is turning out to be all of the twenty-second, in which Caroline had attended the full eight-to-five day of conference meetings. She’d been exhausted and fucking sad and if she has to hear another rendition of All I Want for Christmas is You, she’s going to rip out someone’s eyes.

A minute also means that Hannah hasn’t called her for their nightly talks, either, and Caroline doesn’t think she should call her, no matter how much she wants to hear her voice.

It’s two days of Christmas-filled misery – everyone at the conference talking about their holiday plans with their families, bumping into all of the tourists on the streets carrying their holiday shopping bags, with even fucking carolers on the streets.

If Caroline’s Christmas gift this year is that Hannah doesn’t trust in her or in them, then… where the hell does she go from there?

***

Fuck the holidays.

They really are out to get her.

xviii

xviii

Caroline gets home on Christmas Eve, at not quite three in the morning.

Her flight was supposed to be earlier, landing late on the twenty-third, but there had been a huge, shitty mess of booking on the airline. She supposes that is what last minute Christmas flights simply are – a mess. She’d volunteered to take the next available flight, sticking herself in the airport for an extra five hours.

She feels like she hasn’t slept in days, her eyes feeling gritty as she rubs them and kicks her door shut.

As she wheels her suitcase down the hall, she scowls at the décor. The Hannah and Abbie Christmas explosion that she’s let in her home. She decorated her home, her Christmas-safe sanctuary, for the first time. And seeing it on Christmas Eve, without any Hannah or Abbie around, just – ugh.

She gets closer to the living room and sprawling down on her couch sounds really great just about now.

She heaves a sigh, she can see the lights from the Christmas tree already, lighting up her hallway. Exactly what –

She freezes, only realizing as she stumbles into the room that her Christmas tree lights are on and she certainly hadn’t left them on.

And, her heart feels like it lurches in her chest, as she sees Hannah laying there on her couch. The lights play over her features, soft and relaxed with sleep, curled up against the arm. As if she’d been waiting up and hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but couldn’t keep herself awake.