The corners of Robyn’s eyes went down. “You don’t mean that.”
Charlotte gulped.
Robyn reached into her purse and pulled out a gift bag. “Take the night off. We’ll be in touch as soon as possible. We need to wrap this up before Christmas Eve.”
“Wrap it up? I see what you did there.” Charlotte accepted the gift bag, which was heavier than she’d anticipated.
Robyn laughed, the sound like a bird twittering in the most beautiful way. “You’re special, Charlotte.”
“Thanks.” Charlotte looked inside the bag to find a candy cane-scented bubble bath, a new romance novel, and a bar of Italian chocolate.
She was the only one left in the auditorium when she looked up. The space felt like the ghost of Christmas past breathing down her neck, and she decided to get home and put this all to good use. There was no use crying over Micah and his non-believer’s heart.
So why were her eyes stinging and her nose running as if her heart had broken?
ChapterSixteen
Micah pushed the shopping cart through the grocery store without seeing anything on the shelves. Music played, but he couldn’t wrap his brain around the tune. He’d woken up this morning with a hazy memory from the pageant night before and dropped Lizzie off at Jenny’s house for a playdate on the first day of Christmas vacation.
He’d watched Aubry for any signs of disapproval or a desire to throw him out in the snow. Either she didn’t know what happened last night between him and Charlotte, or she was able to put it aside for the girls’ sake.
Either way, gratitude filled him when he got in and out of there without any drama.
Unlike last night!
Snippets of the chaos played through his head, like Lizzie spinning circles in her harness and the fear that crawled up his spine as fast as a mouse. There was a man with Charlotte, one she was familiar with–which left him heated with jealousy. And then others smelled like baking and made him feel warm and fuzzy. They’d talked nonsense about magical wishes, bouncing and balls of light that he couldn’t see.
Not understanding what happened–except that he and Charlotte fought and hadn’t made up–might never make up–made him grumpy. He didn’t enjoy the irony that the only clear memory was the one thing he wanted to forget.
She was so … stubborn!
And hurt.
When he’d told her to change her wish so Lizzie could have the house, the look on her face was full of betrayal.
Deep.
Everlasting.
Double-crossing.
Never come back from.
Horrible betrayal.
And he’d put it there, which made him feel two feet tall.
On the other hand, he was happy to find out what kind of person she was under that chipper, holiday-preaching, do-gooder, sledding champion exterior. Under all that, she was a Scrooge.
She was probably sitting in her office stacking and counting gold pieces like the famous miser–getting rich in the world’s holiday spirit. Not watching where he was going, he clipped an end-cap display of cinnamon-scented air fresheners. They cascaded to the floor in their cardboard boxes like money falling from a piggy bank. He bit back his curse and bent over to clean them up.
“Let me help you with that.”
Micah glanced at the good samaritan picking up boxes with him and found Charlotte’s mother, Michelle.
He mentally groaned. Perhaps it was time to move. He’d never be free of Charlotte, not in Moose Hollow. “You don’t have to,” he mumbled.
“Nonsense. This won’t take any time at all,” she protested. Standing up, she expertly arranged her load. They looked like nothing had knocked them loose.
