Page 11 of The Christmas Romance Wish

“Where are you?” CJ asks.

Guiltily clearing my throat because I know he’ll report back to our siblings, and they prefer when I share my travel plans, I tell the truth. “The airport.”

“So, you’re on your way?” His excitement filters through the phone.

“Indirectly.”

“Does Magnus know where you’re going?”

“No, I did not send our oldest brother my itinerary because I’m an adult, CJ.”

“Ryan knows people with private jets. He would’ve sent?—”

I could afford private transport, but I’m doing my best to remain normal after the windfall from our grandfather.

My phone vibrates again. The bah humbugs jolt. But it’s Magnus. News travels faster between my brothers than it does on the Coconut Wireless.

“Magnus texted. Royal is calling in on the other line. Should I expect Ryan to appear with a chauffeur?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. My baller brother would do something outrageous like that to make sure I got from the airport in Salt Lake City to my destination safely.

Then again, they’ve been unusually hands-off lately except for CJ’s weekly calls to make sure I’m coming home and Isla reaching out to see if I want a room at the resort for New Year’s Eve. She and Royal also handled the move from SoHo to his penthouse which resulted in Isla technically letting it slip that CJ is no longer single. Royal confirmed the marriage.

Come to think of it, they’ve been preoccupied thispast year, but I can’t complain because sometimes it feels like they don’t trust me or are afraid I’m so fragile that I’ll break.

For instance, a condition of my moving to New York was continuing my jiu-jitsu training—our parents practiced and Chip, my Brazilian-born grandfather, made sure we continued the tradition when we were growing up. I had my brown belt, but my brothers insisted I continue, and then they wanted me to compete, so I did throughout college—my black belt is another one of my secrets.

I only agreed because I wanted to be a person my parents would like. My mother was especially accomplished in martial arts and had several titles, so I imagine she’d be proud of me. Dad loved art and history. I found comfort in the latter, so I majored in it at Columbia which led me to my current profession.

I’m glad my brothers are all happily married. I’d like to have been there for Magnus and Lally’s big day on Thanksgiving. But work...and my reluctance to return to a place that has never felt like home. It’s more like a scene of a crime, one where I was the victim.

I don’t have skeletons in my closet. But Coco Key took almost everyone I love from me. Going back makes me fear it’ll happen again, so I stay away.

A therapist—or even Dylann—would probably have a lot to say about that, but the fear is real. Much like Christmas, I avoid the town.

After boarding the plane, I drop into the spacious first-class seat—I received an upgrade when I complimented one of the flight attendants on her socks covered in corgis wearing Santa hats. For the record, they don’t have dumb butts. They have adorable, fuzzy backsides. I love dogs. All dogs and cats and cows. Basically, all animals.

And, apparently, guys with slight western accents because in the flurry of communications from the McGregor guys, I didn’t see that Alex sent me a voice memo. While the stewardess runs theflight pre-check, the bah humbugs in my belly do a pre-listen swoon.

Putting the phone to my ear, on the recording, Alex says, “Hi Emmie. Change of plans. The ride I’d arranged for you from the airport fell through because their flight was delayed. I’ll be there to pick you up. Look for the guy in flannel, the Wild Warriors hat, and a beard.” He pauses. “Unless I shave it before then. Beard status pending.”

Like the blush I wore last night into this morning, the smile doesn’t fade from my lips the entire flight.

Not even when we hit turbulence over the Rocky Mountains.

Not when the flight attendants buckle into their jump seats.

Not when someone’s poorly stowed luggage slides down the aisle.

But we make it safely to Utah with a smooth landing. That means I have to get off the airplane wearing this dumb grin and meet Alex who likely has Ginny along with him for the ride because they’re so in love that they can’t stand to be apart for more than five minutes.

I tell my busy brain to chill.

Do I have a vivid and slightly vindictive imagination? Possibly. You’d never know it by looking at me and this wild grin I’m wearing as I wait for the businessman in front of me to diligently pack up his entire home office, blocking me from disembarking.

It’s just as well because it delays the inevitable heartbreak.

Yes, Dylann was right. It’s that bad.

Do I regret falling for a man whom I’ve never met in person and whose heart belongs to someone else?

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