Alba Home for Christmas (Audiobook)

UTRECHT, NETHERLANDS

13 December 2002

The bell above the door in our favorite sandwich shop rings, momentarily distracting Ingrid and me. A pair of students from the local university step in from the cold, shaking the wet off their coats and hats. We should have gotten a table farther from the door.
Winter here in Utrecht brings cold rain and short days to the holiday season. In the spirit of gezelligheid, we make up for it with cozy comforts indoors and millions of lights along the canals and cobblestone streets outside, but what I wouldn’t do for some of the snow or sunshine they get in other places.
“And then what did Henk say?” Ingrid asks. She takes a bite of her broodje, the very picture of self-assuredness.
“He said that he thinks we need to break up. That I’m too young for him.”
“What are you—thirty?”
“Thirty-one.”
“So not exactly a newborn,” Ingrid says.
“No. Obviously. But maybe he has a point? About him being too old?”
“Voorzichtig met je woorden! Remember, Henk and I are roughly the same vintage. I know you are not calling me old,” she says, teasing.
“Stop it. You know you will never age. I am fairly certain you’re a vampire.”
She smiles as if she has a secret. Normally, I’d laugh—Ingrid is genuinely funny—but my laughter is a well gone dry at the moment.
“Why is the age difference coming up? It never seemed to bother either of you before. Has something changed? Or did something else happen?”
“I asked him to go with me on this next trip to Italy.”
“Oh,” Ingrid says. “For the ‘Christmas in the Langhe’ article?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Now I am beginning to understand.” She shoves her plate away from her and dabs at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. She leans back in her chair and eyes me. “You should know by now that the only two places Henk ever wants to go are to that damn Castle de Haar and home. It drove me crazy after a while, but, of course, that wasn’t the only thing that did.”
I take this all in. Because Ingrid isn’t just anyone. She’s not just my friend. And she’s not just my boss at WanderLiefde, the popular travel magazine where we both work. She was also Henk’s fiancée once upon a time. She introduced us, in fact. So if anyone has an insight into my situation, it’s her.
“Is there something else you're not telling me?” I ask. “If so, please just say it.”
“We both know that while Henk is far from perfect, he’s still wonderful.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Don’t give me that look,” she says. “Just because I can acknowledge that he’s wonderful doesn’t mean that I think we were right for each other. Henk and I might be closer in age, but you two are so much better together. He and I should’ve just stayed friends instead of even fooling around with the couple nonsense. It wasn’t for us.”
“Well, Henk doesn’t seem to think the ‘couple nonsense’ is for us, either.” I push away my own plate, my sandwich mostly untouched, which is saying something. Usually I have the appetite of a harbor seal.
Ingrid holds her chin in her hand and shakes her head no. “No. This is foolishness. Anyone can see how crazy he is for you. He never looked at me like he does at you. Ever. Not even at the beginning. And I know I never felt as smitten for him as you seem to be.”
I shrug and say nothing, not entirely trusting my voice. I’m afraid anything I say will bring the tears I’ve been holding off.
“My breakup with Henk might have been incredibly amicable,” she says in a musing tone, “but it doesn’t mean I didn’t leave him with a few scars. Maybe this is all that’s going on? Who knows? I do know that he is one of the most stubborn people you will ever meet.”
“So what should I do?” I ask Ingrid.
“What can you do? You can’t force someone to be with you. You can’t get older overnight, and he can’t get younger. All you can do for now is take him at his word and go on this trip. Focus on your assignment and take a break from each other. Maybe it’s the best thing for both of you—to have some space and do some thinking. About what you really want. About what’s really true. Maybe you will both be a little wiser afterwards.”
She stands up and shrugs into her coat. “Come on,” she says, pulling on her hat. “Let’s get back to the office and see where we can sneak in some upgrades on your trip. It’s the least I can do.”

"Don't miss this fantastic holiday escape to Italy! It'll make you laugh and give you wanderlust! ❤️❤️❤️I can't wait to read more from Leau!" - Annie Marcus, author of Small Town Romance