Page 99 of Merry Mended Hearts

I strode to the closet where I’d placed my clothes and searched for my swimsuit. There was one thing I needed—or at least wanted—to do before I left. Fortunately, with everyone gone, the hot tub was empty.

After changing and traipsing to the deck out back, I braved the freezing winter air on my bare skin long enough to dip myself into the water’s engulfing warmth. It was almost too hot at first in contrast to the cold, but soon, I adjusted and soaked in the hot water.

More time passed as I braved the cold once more to head back inside and changed into my pajamas. And then I wrote.

Emotions always fed my writing, and I cashed in the experiences of being at America’s North Pole, filling page after page on my laptop, transferring the notes I’d written in my notebook to the screen, letting myself get lost in the story so I didn’t have to think about how badly my own story was going.

GRACE

Christmas morning was afreshwith glitter and snow light. Surprisingly, I slept more soundly than I had in a long time. The bed’s comfort, the utter warmth encasing me, the pleasant shades of light beaming in from the window, and the friendly sight of my miniature Christmas tree from its place in the corner all brought a smile to my face.

The smile didn’t last long. The minute I awoke, my thoughts instantly clicked in Boone’s direction and turned solemn.

Where was he now? Back in his cottage, probably.

I pictured the lonely, handsome, confusing man waking up in his lonely little backwoods home without this feeling. Without a Christmas tree or any efforts at happiness. His only purpose was to shut out anything good that came his way.

Sadness filled me for him. He’d been mourning for so long, he didn’t know how to let that go.

He’d tried. And clearly, that effort had unraveled him.

Not to give myself too much credit, but he and I had had an undeniable connection. Boone had it all wrong. Magic had only taken us so far. If our connection—the moments we’d shared pouring our hearts out to one another, the heated kisses—weren’t enough to help him see that it was okay to let me into his life, then no amount of tinkling music or Santa-led snowstorms could.

I was so comfortable in bed, I didn’t want to move. Moving meant letting air touch my skin. It meant minutes passing, getting dressed, boarding a plane, and leaving this daydream.

Sitting up, I checked my phone. Mom texted a picture of herself holding baby molly.

Mom: Merry Christmas, Gracie Goose! Can’t wait to see you.

I chuckled, heartened by the memory of why I wanted to leave. Man, I couldn’t fault Boone for having his emotions all over the place. Mine were playing ping pong inside of me.

Me: Save some baby snuggles for me.

While I wanted to leave my clothes in the closet, to stay for as long as I could, leaving was better. I’d been entranced by the inn from the minute I’d arrived, even despite the fact that my room reservation had gotten botched. I’d loved the charm of this place.

But I needed to let that go. To let any hope of a life with Boone go.

I left the blankets’ warmth and trod to the shower. I soaked in the warm spray and then dressed in a festive red shirt—telling myself I needed to invest in more sweaters if I were ever to come back here. Christmas morning was the perfect day for a cozy sweater, and I didn’t get to wear many of those back home.

I blew my hair dry and took my time shaping my brown locks into loose curls. I powdered my face and applied mascara and lip gloss. Once I was done, I carefully gathered my belongings and returned them to my suitcase.

When I stepped from the room, the hall was bright with activity. Guests came and went, smiling as they did so. A pair of children drove a remote-controlled car down the hall, and the sound of their laughter burst with its own kind of magic.

Down the stairs—after a quick peek at the now-silent radio—I tread into the dining room. Festive music played on speakers overhead. Families gathered at tables, opening gifts, sharing hugs, laughing, and enjoying the meals.

My heart gave a twinge. I could see why Boone avoided this place during Christmas. Family happened here, loud and clear. Family and happiness and cheer.

All the things he’d lost.

If only he allowed himself to believe he hadn’t lost them forever.

Situated at a table near the door that led into what I assumed was the kitchen, Junie sat beside a man with black hair and wearing a white overcoat that had a little bit of food spilled on it.

It looked like the chef was taking a break.

Junie touched his arm. He said something to which she threw her head back and laughed, and then he stood and headed for the kitchen once more.

Lacie and Jared were nowhere in sight, but I wondered how their Christmas was going after having their circumstances change so rapidly and in such an…interesting way. Did everyone still think they were married? Or had they gotten things figured out?

---