Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
He dropped his bag on the ground and crashed his mouth over mine, wrapping his arms around my waist.
His eyes were wet when he pulled away. “I love you, too. I’m not going anywhere.”
“There’s a helicopter behind you.”
Cam peered over his shoulder and chuckled. “Check your phone. I texted you, goofball. I’m going to New York for the night to sign a contract and take a photo. It’s closer than LA, and I’d already decided I couldn’t leave you on Christmas. They say you should spend it with someone you love and that’s you. Besides, it’s your favorite holiday.”
“You know, I think it is now,” I whispered.
His nostrils flared with barely checked emotion as he caressed my jaw. “Mine too, my love. Mine too.”
I held on tight as snow fell and the helicopter buzzed loudly above us. I was vaguely aware of someone yelling for us to get on board. In the midst of the chaos, a beautiful stillness settled between us.
Peace. Goodwill. Kindness. Love. Hope.
I wanted those things in my life. No more humbug holidays. It was time to make room for happiness. And with Cam, I believed anything was possible.
EPILOGUE
“It came without ribbons! It came without tags! It came without packages, boxes, or bags!” — Dr. Suess, The Grinch Who Stole Christmas
Cameron
“Are we spiking the eggnog with rum or brandy?”
“Brandy. Was that a real question?” I glanced at my boyfriend, shaking a carton of eggnog on his side of the kitchen island.
Joe snickered. “Some people prefer rum.”
“In eggnog? Gross.”
“Babe, eggnog is gross. As in completely disgusting. Why are we serving this at all? No one will drink it.”
“It’s tradition. Or so my aunts say…and your mother. Speaking of which—” I unwrapped the foil on the hors d’oeuvres the caterer had prepared and inclined my chin toward the microwave clock. “They’ll be here in fifteen minutes. I’ll put these in the living room and leave some in the kitchen since everyone seems to congregate here anyway.”
“Can you blame them? It’s damn nice,” Joe cast an appreciative look around the newly renovated, open-style space as he stirred the eggnog-and-brandy concoction.
“It is. My fiancé happens to be a very talented contractor,” I boasted, flashing a wide smile.
He waggled his brows comically. “Mine isn’t so bad either.”
“Right? I shoveled the driveway like a pro this afternoon,” I bragged.
Joe narrowed his eyes. “Snowblowers don’t count.”
“Sure, they do. Economy of motion, my love.”
“Oh, brother.” He poured a teensy bit of eggnog into a glass and handed it to me to try.
I took a sip and shook my head. “A little more brandy. How do you want to tell them?”
Joe scrunched his nose thoughtfully as he added more booze to the punch bowl. “How about: Guess what, folks? We got engaged in Elmwood in the very spot where we first—”
“Nope.” I made a buzzer noise and tossed in an eye roll.
Joe chuckled. “The details are for us. They’ll be more interested in where and when the wedding will be anyway.”
True. And none of our guests tonight would be particularly surprised. Our relationship had never been a secret. Word had spread last year from the moment I’d talked Joe into jumping on the helicopter to New York City, still wearing his rumpled Santa suit. A funny photo of us walking hand in hand through the Four Seasons hotel circulated on social media and eventually went viral. Joe pretended to be miffed that they didn’t get his good side, but the spark of happiness in his eyes gave him away.
Everyone in town was thrilled—especially Joe’s mom. And my aunts were over the moon and not entirely surprised. “Oh, honey, we knew he was the one the day you said you bought a Christmas tree.” Fair enough.
A whole year later, I think we’d agree our lives had changed irrevocably. For starters, I’d moved from LA to Fallbrook. Yes, I kept my condo in LA and my house in La Jolla so we’d have places to go when we visited my family, but Fallbrook felt like home.
Correction. Joe was home.
For a guy who’d lost his family in one fell swoop, home was a precious concept. It was more than a place to belong where I could be myself and feel utterly safe; it was a person. Joe was solid and strong. He was my confidant, my conscience…the man who reminded me that real life was worth setting my book aside and diving into.
I’d insisted on hiring him to renovate the house, but he wouldn’t let me pay him. I believe his exact words were, “That’s creepy, babe. I’m not taking your money…but I will accept payment in BJs.” I happily provided that service and then some. I convinced him to move in with me last June, soon after most of the big renovations were complete.
The old Victorian house now had a new roof, a refinished porch, a contemporary kitchen, modern lighting, and all refurbished bathrooms. And though we had plenty of rooms, Joe still owned his house on Spruce, which was ideal for hosting elderly out-of-town guests who didn’t like dealing with stairs.