“It is.” Tears stream down her cheeks. “Don’t you see? I’ve become exactly who I never wanted to be. So consumed by this career that I’ve lost track of what actually matters. Brady didn’t tell me because he knew I was unreachable. Not physically, but emotionally.”
Pookie whimpers and nuzzles into Rebecca’s borrowed jacket.
“I’ve missed everything,” she whispers. “First steps, school plays, doctor’s appointments. I send gifts and make video calls when I can, but I’m not there. I’m never there.”
I want to comfort her, but there’s a wall between us now. Built by reality, by the life she has to return to, by the fact that I’m falling for someone who belongs to a world I can’t compete with.
“We should keep searching.” My voice is rough.
But I know we’re not just searching for a star anymore.
We’re both trying to figure out what happens when Christmas ends and the real world comes crashing back in.
CHAPTER 11
REBECCA
The lobby phone keeps ringing with calls from Lilith, my publicist, and my social media manager. It’s like she launched a full-scale attack on Christmas. Everyone demands a piece of me, needs an answer, requires my attention.
When I left Las Vegas, I was running on empty and even though I’ve been filled up with the Christmas spirit, I want to guard it with my life.
But nobody at the inn is making a fuss that a famous pop star is among them.
I’m just Rebecca here. The woman with the yappy little dog who is undoubtedly flirting with the attractive firefighter who is also stranded here. The one searching for a missing star. No autographs. No selfies. Just ... normal.
Then, with startling clarity, I realize that this is what I want. Not the absence of music, but the presence of genuine connection. Of being seen for who I am, not what I can do for someone’s bottom line. The ability to be myself without all the baggage.
The decision crystallizes in my mind like frost on a window.
I’m retiring.
Not from music—never from that. But from the version of my life where I’m a product, a brand, a carefully curated image that strayed far from the girl who fell in love with the piano because it made people feel something special.
I’ll do the New Year’s concert. One last show before I announce my retirement from touring, from the manufactured relationships, and from attaching my name to causes I don’t believe in.
I’ll sing on my terms. Maybe in small venues. Perhaps in coffee shops—even at a certain bakery in Huckleberry Hill that serves Crush Cakes.
Even if it results in a lawsuit, as Lilith threatened. However, if I’ve learned anything in show business, it’s that most of it is flash, dazzle, and illusion.
My freedom is worth the price, whatever the cost.
I ask Noella if I can use the computer. She agrees on one condition, that I try one of her gingerbread cookies fresh out of the oven.
She must see that I’m about to snap.
After one bite, I relax. “Oddly, this is exactly what I needed.”
She laughs knowingly.
But it’s not just the cookie. It’s my great escape, Reese, being snowed-in. Being forced to slow down. No, stop and take a hard look at my life.
My hands are surprisingly steady as I pull up my banking app on the computer. I make a donation—a huge one—to a legitimate children’s medical research foundation. In Brady’s family’s name. In Ruthie’s honor.
Because my brother keeping track of me from afar and sending Reese to find me gave me the best Christmas of my life. The one that reminded me who I actually am.
I try to find Reese to tell him, but he’s not by the tree and not in the game room. When I finally spot him by the window, staring out at the snow, my chest craters.
He’s pulling away. I can see it in the set of his shoulders, the way he doesn’t quite meet my eyes when I approach.
