“Perfect,” Adrian said, relief in his voice. “Didn’t want to swamp you.”
“Not at all.”
“Okay then. Well, I’ll get them sent.” He paused. “I look forward to meeting you on the twenty-first.” Another pause. “Goodbye, Mr. Darkwood.”
“Wes!” I said. “Call me Wes, please.”
“Call me Adrian.”
“Hi, Adrian.” God, I sounded so lame.
“Hi back, Wes.” He chuckled, and there was another pause, and I wanted to fill it with all the fan-boying that was trapped inside me.
“I’m a huge fan, by the way,” I blurted. “That scene at the end ofWinter Lines—when the prince finally confesses—god, it wrecked me.”
Adrian chuckled, the sound quiet and genuine. “I always think I could’ve written it better.”
“Are you kidding? It was perfect.”
“Impostor syndrome’s a hell of a thing,” he admitted.
“The way you build worlds,” I said, trying not to sound like an idiot, “it’s like stepping into somewhere real. Every town, every street—you can smell the rain, feel the air. I get lost in them, honestly. There’ve been nights I’ve stayed up until two just because I couldn’t leave.”
Adrian made a soft sound, embarrassed. “That’s... really nice of you to say.”
“I mean it,” I rushed on, heart pounding, nerves buzzing under my skin. “The characters—god, they stay with me. I’ve reread whole chapters just to feel that ache again.”
He laughed quietly, the sound low and disbelieving. “You’re going to make me blush.”
“I’m serious,” I said, and I could hear how earnest I sounded, but I didn’t care. “It’s like you write with heart first, story second. That’s rare.”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and I could hear him exhale on the other end of the line. “That’s... kind of you. I never really believe I get it right.”
“That’s the impostor syndrome talking,” I told him, grinning because I felt as if I was talking to an old friend instead of one of my favorite authors.
He laughed again, modest as ever, but I could tell he was smiling now. And I meant every damn word.
We talked a bit longer about his books, aboutfavorite characters and endings that broke us both. By the time we said goodbye, my face hurt from smiling.
When I hung up, I was still grinning at the receiver like an idiot. I'd forgotten all about how desperate I was to see Hunter.
When the bell over the door rang again, with a sigh, I pasted on my brightest smile before turning to face the newcomer. And then my heart stopped—Hunter. Looking good, put-together in dark jeans and a coat that made his shoulders seem broader. But beneath the surface polish, there was something else—nerves, tension tightening the corners of his mouth.
“I brought you a coffee,” he said, holding out a to-go cup. “One of your froufrou ones, extra cream. You haven’t come in today, and I was thinking… is everything okay?” His voice was low, careful, as if he wasn’t sure if he should even be here. His fingers tapped the cardboard sleeve, and the way he avoided my eyes told me how nervous he really was. ”And, hell, the coffee is to apologize for last night—” Hunter began.
“I don’t need you to apologize,” I blurted, flustered, shaking my head too fast. The last thing I wanted was to erase what had happened between us.
“Ah, okay then. Well, here’s a non-apology coffee.” Hunter set the drink on the counter, his gaze drifting away from me and sweeping the store instead. Itlingered on the half-finished Christmas display by the front. “What happened to the Thanksgiving turkeys?” he asked, his brow furrowing as if he’d caught me red-handed in some seasonal crime.
“I was restless, and I love Christmas, and Bailey dropped off some of his Christmas ornaments for the tree, so it was time.”
Hunter arched a brow. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you love Christmas so much?”
Words tumbled out of me, excitement spilling faster than I could catch it still on a high from Adrian’s call. “Because it’s hope, and love, and snow, and twinkly lights that make everything feel magical. It’s stories and songs, and that one second when everyone enjoys something happy and bright.” My throat tightened and I trailed off, softer. “And sometimes… it helps to remember the sadness too.” I swallowed hard, instantly regretting letting that slip, for showing too much. I ducked my head, wishing I could reel the words back in.
