With a wink, he says, “Don’t stay up too late.”
Alone with my work, I find the words flowing effortlessly and maybe I’m motivated to get this done so I can snuggle with my husband. At last, Lorna and Drake’s story reaches its conclusion—not just a happily ever after, but a beginning. A choice to build something lasting together, despite their different backgrounds and initial mistrust.
By the glow of the tree, I add the final sentence after midnight, my eyes burning but my heart full. After one last skim, I attach the manuscript to an email for Meredith and press send.
It’s done. The weight of the deadline lifts from my shoulders. I let out a long breath. Tears brim in my eyes—not because I’m sad or even relieved. It’s emotion to be sure, but the good kind. It’s sometimes what happens when there’s so much love inside that it has nowhere left to go, so it overflows.
Puffing my cheeks on an exhale, I realize that as soon as the book earns out its advance, I’ll start receiving royalties andwon’t have to take dares to kiss strangers again in order to pay off my student loans. Though I realize with a smile, I’d do it all over again if it meant finding Fletch at the door under the mistletoe.
But now what? Soon, our thirty-day arrangement ends. The manuscript is complete. The pageant is on Christmas Eve. And then ...
I close my laptop and move to the window, watching the snow blanket the quiet street. Nina’s house is starting to resemble Whoville. The rest of the block is festive and aglow. I think of my childhood home, standing empty but full of potential. Of Fletch reading my books by the fire. Of the hockey wives welcoming me into their circle and possibly me hosting watch parties and game nights.
I know what I want. But wanting isn’t enough—I need the courage to reach for it. To revise my own story into something I never thought possible.
After the pageant, I’ll share my skit. I’ll tell Fletch that I want to stay. That I’m ready to believe in us.
For once in my life, I’m writing my own happily ever after. And I hope—with everything in me—that Fletch wants to be my co-author.
CHAPTER 24
FLETCH
The community centerbuzzes with last-minute pageant preparations. Children in costumes dart between harried parents, set pieces wobble as they’re moved into place, and the air is filled with clouds of hairspray and excitement. In the midst of it all, I adjust Bailey’s donkey ears, whispering reassurances to our suddenly stage-shy pooch.
“You’re a natural performer,” I tell him, scratching under his chin.
He tilts his head.
“Just imagine everyone in their underwear.”
“Is that what you do when you play hockey?” Bree appears beside me, looking beautiful in a dark green dress that brings out the amber flecks in her eyes.
My smile is irrepressible. “Absolutely not. Those guys are ugly enough with clothes on.”
She laughs, but I notice the tension in her shoulders, the way she keeps glancing at the script in her hands. Is she anxious about the pageant, or about what comes after?
I, for one, cannot stop thinking about the days afterChristmas as our deadline looms. The obvious thing to do would simply be to talk about it, but I’m afraid it might burst the bubble we’re in. Shake up the snow globe too much and ruin everything.
“Are you merry and bright over there?” I ask.
“Just reviewing my lines for the skit.”
“Mine too,” I admit, patting my pocket where my own script sits folded and refolded, the creases deep from constant review.
Mayor Nishimura bustles over with a clipboard clutched to her chest before we can say more. “There’s our power couple!”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I say.
“The pageant is sold out! I haven’t seen the town this excited since we got that stoplight on Main Street.”
Bree shifts uncomfortably, whether because, having lived in the big city, Cobbiton isn’t her first choice of places to call home or for another reason I’m afraid to think about.
The mayor leans in conspiratorially. “I hope you two are planning to stick around long term. We have the New Year’s Bash, the Happy Hockey Days event, and of course, the CAC has openings for help with the Valentine’s Day Sweethearts Skate—pending Leah’s discussion with the town board.”
Juniper, Mikey’s wife, appears and asks, “What happened to Nancy? I thought she was in charge of the Cobbiton Activities Commission.”
“Nancy Linderberg?” Bree says.
