Page 50 of The Christmas Romance Wish

“Yay. Can’t wait. There will be five of you instead of four.” She deepens her voice. “Let’s watch a Christmas movie.” Then using her own voice, she says, “Yeah. How about the Holiday or It’s a Wonderful Life or even Christmas Vacation.” She shakes her head. “I wouldn’t even have the popcorn popped and buttered before John McClane would be on the plane, flying across the big flat screen. I suppose I should be heading to the airport soon though, too.”

I lasso her waist. “What if I want you here for Christmas?”

“I’m a lady Grinch, remember?”

“But the hearts of all those bad guys eventually softened. Have hope.”

“Not Hans Gruber’s.”

“I’m starting to think your dislike of Christmas is all talk.”

Ignoring me, she says, “We have all these balls, bubbles, and baubles, but we’re missing one thing.”

“You’re right.” Getting to my feet, I cross the room to the big window that overlooks the property. Opening my arms wide, I stretch them across the space and then bring them up to a peak before tapering down. “Yep, I think one will look good right here.”

“One what? I was talking about—” She looks toward the ceiling.

“I’ll be back soon.” I tug on my gear.

“You’re going outside? What about the storm? Wait, does mistletoe grow around here?”

“Sometimes the storms get stuck over the mountains. Has to do with air currents, but it’s finally moving off. You stay here and keep the fire going. I’ll be back with a tree and a kiss, without or without mistletoe.”

After tending to the horses, I trudge into the woods and find the perfect Christmas tree. It takes some luggingto get it back to the house, but I leave it to dry, then set to work making a stand out of some two-by-fours I had left over from another project.

About an hour later, I’m back in the house. The fire burns in the hearth. The lights are low and Christmas carols play softly. Emmie is curled up on the couch.

It’s the perfect scene except for one thing. Tears fill her eyes.

I crouch down and smooth her hair. “Hey, what’s going on?”

She wipes her eyes and sits up. “Oh, what? These? They’re happy tears.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes. Definitely.” She looks around. “It’s just so perfect here. A holly jolly bubble. I’ll soon return to real life at my lonely tower in New York. I thought it was what I wanted, but now I’m not so sure.”

I can fix this. I hope.

It takes me less than five minutes to make cocoa from a packet. “Sorry. I’m fresh out of marshmallows.”

“Do you usually keep them on hand?”

“No, but I should be a marshmallow guy.”

She laughs and pokes me in the side. “There’s nothing squishy about you.”

I settle next to Emmie on the couch and pick up the Polar Express. Parting the pages, I read the familiar words to the story about a little boy who visits the North Pole.

Emmie inches closer to me, resting her head on my shoulder. My breath moves deeper and peace settles over me. Her too.

When we get to the end, I say, “Now, I want you to tell me a Christmas story.”

“No, fair. You got to read one.”

“You could just tell me any story. What’s it like during this time of year in the city. Your favorite meal. What you do on Friday nights.”

Emmie tells me about the tree and ice skating in Rockefeller Center. Then she goes quiet before adding, “Here’s a truth. I’man island girl trapped in a city girl’s body. I’m glad to be here and not there, locked away in my lonely tower.”

---