Page 103 of Christmas in Paradise

His vote of confidence throws open the door for all my excitement. It shoots through me with a surge of happiness I haven’t felt since I held Charly in my arms for the first time and knew she would be okay. Whatever developmental problems she might have, she was alive.

That’s how I feel now. Whatever logistical problems lay ahead, I accomplished what I wanted. Everything else will work itself out.

“Hope?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s time to dance.”

And that’s exactly what I do. Right there on the side of the road, in broad daylight, with cars driving past, and absolutely freezing. But I stand outside my car and dance.

Chapter 33

Sebastian

Look, I can decorate cakes and cookies, and I did a pretty impressive job stringing lights around everything in downtown Paradise, but what Hope has done with the high school gym is mind blowing. I mean, I spent twelve years at this K-12 school, wrestled hundreds of matches, and attended every other sports event in this gym. And I don’t recognize the place.

If there’s such a thing as a winter wonderland, that’s what this is. Lights twinkle in the false ceiling, making the whole space feel small and intimate. Hope’s put all that mistletoe we picked up to good use. It’s everywhere, but at the same time, not too much—unlike certain inns. Giant balls that look like the kind that go on Christmas trees hang from the ceiling, and tall, lighted pine trees border the temporary stage where our band is setting up.

It's beautiful, and I’m so proud of her.

I can’t tell her that now because we’re both too busy getting ready for the Jingle Ball.

So I save all the words I want to say to her until after Adam, Bear, Carson, and I finish playing our hour-long set. The crowd loves our songs and dance along, but the lights are too bright to see if Hope is one of the people cheering for us. If she’s not, I know it’s because she’s busy making this whole event happen.

And there’s that surging pride again.

My girlfriend is amazing.

I finally see her after we pack up all our equipment. She’s waiting next to the stage with Charly and Evie, and, unfortunately, her parents.

Don’t get me wrong. I like them. It’s been…greatgetting to know them over the past two weeks they’ve been here. They’re nice to want to come hear Adam and me play tonight. Mrs. Barton has been taking care of Charly a lot since she’s been here, which has given my mom a break. Even if it’s a break she didn’t ask for or want.

I’m trying to be positive, but Mrs. Barton is a littletoohelpful. I swear Charly has regressed since she’s been here because Mrs. Barton doesn’t let her do very much by herself.

And, I could say the same thing about Hope. I’ve seen her confidence slip a little with her mom around. Not that Mrs. Barton isn’t encouraging—she is—but then she undermines it by making Hope feel like she can’t do things by herself. Like telling her Charly really needs her therapists back in Kansas, even though Mom has told Hope that Charly has made huge strides and really doesn’t need the intensive therapy she’s been getting. Especially since Hope is so good about encouraging the little things Mom says will help Charly. Like eating on her own and dressing herself.

Then there’s the running dialogue I’ve been having in my head with Mrs. Barton ever since she told me Hope and Charly are the ones who will suffer because I don’t know what I’m getting myself into.

In my heart, I tell her Hope and Charly belong here with me.

But in my head, I know that may not be true.

They would both have to sacrifice to be here. Even if Charly doesn’t need as much therapy, she still needs doctors. And she may need to be closer to specialists that we don’t have here in Paradise. Then there’s all the help Hope gets from her mom. I’ve had a front-row seat to that in the last two weeks.

So, unless it’s Hope’s choice to stay, I don’t want to put any kind of pressure on her.

But I try to put all those worries to the side when I wrap Hope in my arms and gush about what an amazing job she’s done tonight. Even though I’m very aware of Mrs. Barton’s presence and careful with my words.

“Thank you!” Hope vibrates with excitement that feeds the adrenaline already coursing through my veins. “You were amazing. I loved every song. Could you hear Charly and me screaming for you?”

“I couldn’t hear anything past the stage.” I reach toward Charly, who’s in Mrs. Barton’s arms, and run my hand over her head.

My palm covers her crown, and I’m reminded just how little and fragile she is. It’s hard not to want to shield her from everything that might hurt her. I don’t blame Mrs. Barton for acting on that instinct.

The DJ who’s taking over for us puts onShake it Off,a song I know Charly loves. “Are we going to dance, Charly?”

She sticks her thumb in her mouth, then burrows into Mrs. Barton’s neck.

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