Tom swallowed hard.
He couldn’t leave them there. Couldn’t let the garbage truck take them away like they were nothing.
His hand brushed against something softer than ribbon. Tom frowned and lifted a scrap of red lace from the corner of the box.
Lingerie. Brand-new. Never worn. Tom’s breath stalled in his chest.
He couldn’t think about that right now.
He swallowed hard, set the lace back exactly where he’d found it, and closed the box with a careful finality—as if keeping it shut might keep the thought from splitting him open.
He gathered the boxes one by one, loading them into the back of his car. There was an ache building behind his ribs.
He looked back at the house—the house that was supposed to be their forever. The house thatwastheir forever.
He brushed the snow from his knees and climbed into the driver’s seat.
The headlights swept across the drive, catching on the glitter that had spilled from one of the boxes. It sparkled in the snow—stubborn, defiant, beautiful.
Tom’s mouth twisted into a grimace.
He turned the key.
And drove away—carrying her Christmas with him.
CHAPTER 27
Lauren
Rina appearedat the desk like she’d materialized out of thin air. “Lauren,” she said, voice strangely high. “I’ve just forwarded you an email.”
Lauren blinked. “I—okay?”
Before she could click, Sage came skidding in on the industrial carpet. “Did she see it? Did you show her?”
Wren leaned over the counter. “Oh my God, somebody film her face.”
Lauren stared at the three of them. “What is happening?”
Zoe shoved her glasses up her nose. “Just open it.”
Lauren clicked the unread message. It was fromThe Stockist.
Hi Rina,
Could you send us Lauren Barrett’s contact details?
We would love to feature a small selection of her work in our curated artisan showcase.
We provide display space at no cost; in exchange, we ask for a modest percentage of any commissions or bespoke orders generated through in-store inquiries.
Lauren just stared.
Rina gripped her shoulders. “Do you understand what this means?”
“I…” Lauren swallowed. “That they made a mistake?”
Zoe thumped her forehead gently. “Lauren. The Stockist does not make mistakes.”
