Page 69 of Christmas in Paradise

Ideally, the publicity he’ll get from planning the Thomsen wedding will increase demand for his talents. The wedding is going to be aired as a special on the network, so he could get a lot of exposure.

Or editors could cut most of the scenes with him in them or even any mention of Pizzazz, other than the one they’re contractually obligated to include.

So I have to give Carson a reason to keep me full time, past December, no matter what. That’s the only way I’ll be able to stay here. With Evie getting married, I won't have a free place to live anymore. I need to make enough money to pay for my own place, and I need insurance so that Charly can get the care she needs.

Or I need to move back in with Mom and Dad in Kansas.

And I don’t want to do that. I like being on my own. I like being here in Paradise where everyone feels like family after only a few weeks.

And I like being “friends” with Seb.

Over the next five days, we text often. First thing in the morning to saygood morning, friend!Or, even better,mornin’ mate!Then sporadically throughout the afternoon, and again at night. Although those texts usually turn into FaceTiming once Charly is down for the night.

We talk about Yulefest, and I love bouncing ideas off him about how to make the activities more engaging and the marketing more targeted. The more people I get participating online, in person, or both, the more potential future clients Carson will have. So Seb is more than happy to help.

And he really does help. I shouldn’t be surprised by how creative he is after seeing him add lights to a moose rack hat and tasting what he can do with pumpkin, but I am. Every day there’s another happy surprise when he gives me an idea that is spot on.

Our conversations always end with some synonym for friend. Pal. Companion. Buddy. Amigo. Compadre.

We try to outdo each other, until one night Seb says, “Goodnight, Bestie!”

A pause follows while I catch my breath. “I think that one is my favorite.”

His face goes soft, and his mouth pulls into a smile. “Mine too. It’s a keeper.”

When I go to bed that night, I stare at the ceiling, surrounded by dark but knowing I’m glowing. I feel lighter than I have in years.

I’ve always loved the idea of being in love with a best friend. I watched Georgia and Zach’s story play out on Instagram and was invested in every minute of it. Even when Evie told me they were acting for Georgia’s fans, we both agreed they were really falling in love.

That made me love their story even more and want something like it for myself. But I have struggled to keep the dream that it might be possible.

Now, though, I think I might be falling in love with Seb as a friend and more. I still want to kiss his face off—which is why we stick to texting and Facetime instead of much IRL contact—but I also really like talking to him. When we have to work on Yulefest stuff together, I’m excited just to be with him. Which is good, because we’re always surrounded by people, so I can’t kiss him anyway.

But the day comes when we can’t avoid being alone together. I have to try his wedding cake, which I can’t do over the phone. Georgia and Evie are too busy with the show to bother with the cake, so they’ve given me carte blanche to decide what flavors and what it will look like.

I haven’t told them yet that Seb is the one who will be making the cake. Honestly, I don’t know how they would feel about it if they knew. But he’s sent me pics of what he’s thinking of doing, and pictures of what he’s done with Heidi in the past, and I think they’re going to love it.

At least I hope so, for my sake and Seb’s.

The day before Thanksgiving, I go to Gia’s in the early afternoon to pick up Charly and to try Seb’s cake.

I’m not too worried about either of us stepping out of the friend zone since Charly, Gia, and Stella will all be there. But I’ll admit to being a little disappointed we won’t have the opportunity.

Seb opens the side door for me before I can knock and immediately makes me smile. Not just because I’m happy to see him in person, but also because he’s wearing a flowered apron with scalloped edges over his dark Henley and black jeans. He’s got leather biker boots on to complete the look.

“This is a good look for you.” I point to the apron.

“Thanks, Bestie.”

“You’re welcome, Bestie.”

“It’s good to see your face.” He takes my coat from me and hangs it up.

“Good to see you, too. Did you hang that one up too?” I point to the North Face parka I’ve seen him wear.

“Yep,” he says proudly. “I’m a big boy now.”

“Yes, you are.” My eyes drop to his shoulders and chest, then to his abs. They’re all covered, but their shape has taken up a sizable portion of my monkey brain.

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