“Best chase of my career.”
She tilts her head to look up at me. “I need to tell you about my plans. Real plans, not just ‘I’m moving to Huckleberry Hill’ plans.”
My throat constricts. “I’m listening.”
“I’ll stay here tonight, then go home to my parents and Brady’s family. I want to see Ruthie, spend time with her and the boys. Be the aunt I should’ve been all along.” Her voice wavers slightly. “I’ll visit with Mom and Dad. They were always so supportive and where have I been? Absent. Then I’ll do the New Year’s concert. It’ll be my last big show, and I’ll announce my retirement from touring.”
“Will you miss it? The crowds, the stadiums, the excitement?”
“I’ll miss connecting with fans who love the music. But I can do that in other ways. Smaller venues. Intimate shows. Get back to writing music again.” She pauses. “I want to record an album on my own terms. Real songs about real things, not whatever some producer thinks will trend on social media.”
“That sounds perfect.”
“Maybe I can find a cute cottage near the old firehouse.” She’s talking faster now, excited. “A place with a fireplace and a small yard for Pookie. I’m thinking of a cozy space. A piano …”
“Near Crush Cakes?” My chest squeezes.
“If there is something available.”
I tighten my arm around her, not wanting to let her go, but knowing she’ll be back.
She peers up at me. “Will you come to the New Year’s concert? I want you there when I make the announcement. I want to look out and see your face and know I’m making the right choice.”
“Not even a polar vortex blizzard could keep me away.” I pause. “Maybe the whole crew can come. Hayes would love it if we made him attend in full turnout gear.”
She laughs. “I’d expect nothing less.”
We watch the fire for a beat as other guests drift past, heading to their rooms, calling out soft “Merry Christmas” wishes. The grand tree lights twinkle in the lobby, the star shining bright at the top.
“You know what we’re doing, don’t you?” Rebecca says eventually.
“What’s that?”
“Kindling Kissmas.”
I groan and chuckle at the same time.
“Too much?”
“It’s terribly wonderful.”
She snuggles against me. “You love it.”
“I love you.” The words tumble out as naturally as can be.
“I love you too.” She adjusts to face me properly. “Thank you for chasing my dog. For staying. For making me remember what Christmas—what life—is supposed to feel like.”
“Thank you for throwing your phone out the window and ending up here.”
“Best breakdown I ever had.”
I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs tracing her cheekbones. “Merry Christmas, Becca.”
“Merry Christmas, Reese.”
We kiss as the fire crackles beside us and snow falls outside. Somewhere in the distance, jingle bells ring. Maybe it’s part of the décor here at the inn. Perhaps it’s something more special.
But does it matter? I’ve found my star. She’s found her home. And we’ve found each other right here in this place that I hope to return to year after year.
