“It’s okay.” She laughed. “I know you’re not proposing right now.”
Was it weird that I kind of wanted to?
“I just didn’t want you to think that I was running off because I was done with this. With you.” I found her hand and fitted my fingers between hers, keeping our hands hidden in her skirt so the driver wouldn’t see us touching if he happened to look back.
“Oh Nolan, I know,” she said, meeting my gaze. She wore a lipstick that highlighted every tilt and curve of her full mouth, and her lips turned up now into a very soft smile. “I know you want to see your family. Hell, I want to see mine too. I’d kill for my moms right now.”
“Just tell me that you’ll pick up the phone when I call after this,” I said.
“Tellmethat you’ll pick up the phone when I call, and you have a deal.”
I squeezed her hand. “Deal.”
The scene went perfectly, and if Pearl noticed the change to her script, she didn’t show it. More importantly, even though it happened in front of an audience, the scripted kiss in the scene was the only chance I had to kiss Bee goodbye.
I was almost sad that we got it in one take, because the warm brush of her lips was drugging, inviting, incredible. I wanted to kiss her for the rest of my life, until the mansion fell down around our ears, until there was nothing left but her sugary scent and soft little sighs and the snow outside.
When we finished, I looked over at Bee, struggling for a way to say goodbye that would seem totally normal for coworkers, but that conveyed at least some of how much I wanted her and hated leaving her. Some of that twisty, needy feeling that was so much more than lust or respect or affection—the feeling that scared me when I thought about naming it.
“It’s okay,” Bee said, seeing my hesitation. Cammy was waiting to get me upstairs, where I’d shoot my last scene, and Bee needed to get back to the toy shop for her costume change—there was no time left, no privacy to be had. This was it for us until after the movie.
If there was an after.
“Remember our deal,” I said so only she could hear.
“Youremember our deal,” she said back, and then gave me the world’s biggest smile. “Goodbye, Nolan Kowalczk.”
My entire body itched to touch hers, to haul her into my arms and never let her go. But Cammy was walking toward me now and Gretchen and Pearl were nowhere in sight—probably already upstairs waiting for me.
“Goodbye, Bee Hobbes,” I said softly, and then I left.
I thought about her for the rest of the day. I thought about her as I shot my last scene, and someone—Tall Ron, maybe—passed around a flask of Baileys to toast me after Cammy announced, “That’s a wrap on Nolan Shaw!” I thought about heras I rode back to the inn, hoping I’d catch a glimpse of her but seeing only the bustling Christmas fair and the crowded main street, and on the way to Burlington, and while boarding a plane for home. And all I thought of was Bee Hobbes in a wedding dress and of a future that stretched far beyond the borders of Christmas Notch, Vermont.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Bee
I wished every day on set could have been as good as today was. Well, except for the part where Nolan and I had to say our final goodbyes. But this morning in the toy shop with Luca, Sunny, Nolan, and Gretchen, it felt like something had finally gelled between us all and it didn’t seem fair that we were hitting our stride just as it was nearly time to wrapDuke the Halls.
As I walked back to the inn, I watched the sky, wondering if Nolan was somewhere up above me looking down on Christmas Notch for one last time.
I turned the corner past the thinning crowds heading home for Christmas Eve and pulled out my phone to find a text.
Nolan:Going on airplane mode. Talk soon.♥
And then a notification foreightmissed calls and one voicemail from Jack Hart. I pulled up my voicemail and tapped on his message, hearing nothing at first. For a moment, I thought he’d meant to hang up without leaving a message, but after a few seconds and some muffled noises, Jack’s irritated voice said, “You’re gonna want to call me back.”
My first reaction was to bristle, but then every possible reason why Jack Hart might call me eight times on Christmas Eve spun through my brain. I called him back as fast as my fingers would move, but I went straight to voicemail. Again. One ring and then to voicemail.
I tried once more as Sunny came sprinting out of the inn toward me. “Bee!”
I looked at my phone in my hand and shot off a quick text to Jack.
Me:I can’t call you if you won’t answer.
“Hey,” I said to Sunny as she collided with me, white air puffing from her lips. “What’s going on?”
She swallowed and then caught her breath for a moment. “You hate surprises, right?”
