Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 59022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Tears well in my eyes.
I imagine Santa smiling at me, telling me he remembered me.
Hugging me.
I may not have felt like I mattered growing up when I tried so hard when I struggled and felt so alone. But he loved me even then. He knew my name.
He knew my name by heart.
I struggle not to cry when my brain slowly moves over to the memory of the smiles with Stetson, the stolen kisses, the pantry, the teasing, the sex.
Would I regret it?
Never.
Would I ever get over it?
No. But that’s on me, for signing the clause.
“So you can’t be upset, and you can’t be mad,” her voice cuts into the memories like a knife and goes up an octave. “And I swear to God if you cry over a man you just met forty-eight hours ago, I’m going to bash you in the head with this pillow.”
“I’m not going to cry.” I swallow a lump the size of Texas. I am one hundred percent going to cry myself to sleep every time I smell sugar, take a shower, eat cookies, see reindeers. The man has not only ruined me for all other men—he’s ruined freaking Christmas. Thanks, Stetson, thanks Santa.
“Liar,” Grace points at me with narrowed eyes. “I can see the quiver in your mouth!”
“I’m hungry!” I shout back at her as I cross my arms. God this sucks!
“Charlie, there is no way I’m going to let you be sad about this guy, even for a minute. We leave tomorrow—did you forget that?”
“No,” I shake my head in misery. “I did not forget that.”
I just didn’t need the reminder!
“Just get over him,” she waves at me like it should be something easy.
I don’t answer her.
Impossible.
She doesn’t know.
And the worst part is, I can’t tell her—I can’t tell anyone. I have to take the stolen moments, the kisses, the truth—to the grave.
Grace stands and pulls her sweats up like she’s trying to prove a point.
“Charlie Lyn Horseman, let’s just call a spade a spade. I’m going to be harsh and give you tough love because I love you and I’m not going to let you think about him for another moment in time.”
“I can’t wait to hear…” I mumble back to her knowing Grace is going to be her usual, I can’t sugarcoat anything, kind of friend.
“This man is not going to call you,” she starts off with the first blow. “His yacht has probably already left the fjord. And you will probably never set eyes on him again.”
One second later, Stetson FaceTime’s me.
How’s that for prophecy?
How’s that for hope?
How’s that for a possible Christmas Miracle?
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
STETSON
FaceTiming Charlie is the last thing I should be doing.
The very last. But—
I’m addicted to her voice, the way she smiles, the sound of her laugh.
To every single part of her that makes her her.
Her smile is like the sunrise, her skin is satin, and she lights up every space she walks in, and I’m hooked— wow listen to me, am I going to start spouting poetry now? All those things are true and more. I can’t stop myself from thinking about her. Even seeing her half-distorted face because of the Wi-Fi connection does something to my insides.
What the fuck do I even do at this point?
Why do I want to buy her a million Hallmark cards to express what’s going on inside of me right now? Where did that urge come from? Though, Hallmark cards probably don’t start out with what the fuck and then tell the girl she’s pretty all before saying Merry Christmas, still.
“Hi,” her sweet voice rings through the phone and I wish more than anything that she was here right next to me so I could have my way with her again and make her come a thousand times.
God, there’s nothing like watching her gorgeous face etched in ecstasy because of me.
“Hi, darling,” I can’t help myself or the silly grin that crosses my face.
I cringe inside over my own lack of self-control when it comes to this woman who just walked into my life and somehow completely turned it upside down.
How the hell did this happen?
“What are you up to?” I ask her.
“Just sitting with my super positive and not at all doubtful bestie,” she says and flips the phone around to show me her friend.
The best friend doesn’t look too thrilled with me, like she’s a protective mama bear looking out for her cub.
And why am I suddenly jealous of her and the fact that she’s spending time with Charlie—my Charlie?
I’m jealous of the proximity she has to Charlie because all I want is to be the one talking to her. I want Charlie to tell me her secrets—not to tell Grace. I want to be the one next to her, holding her, laughing with her.
To be inside her.
At least that’s one thing Grace can’t give her. Wow I really have lost it. I shake my head.