Page 51 of The Christmas Romance Wish

I chuckle. “Could you be a ranch girl?”

“Sometimes I don’t know who I am. Orphaned. Raised by my eccentric grandfather. He’d read me Tom Clancy’s espionage thrillers and World War Two nonfiction historical accounts instead of fairy tales and children’s stories.”

Whew. That’s an interesting childhood.

Her expression suggests she shares the sentiment but isn’t sure what to do with it.

Gently, I say, “Yeah, but had he not, we may not be here together. Those stories served you well.”

“I’d have liked a copy of The Polar Express.”

“You can have this one,” I offer, meaning it. If it would make Emmie’s season bright, I’ll buy her every copy in the state.

“Actually, I just want you to read it to me again.”

So I do, and Emmie nestles closer to me,

“I hear the tinkling of the bell in your voice,” Emmie says with a yawn when the story is over.

“And I hear sadness in yours.”

She exhales. “I’ve never told anyone this. Only my brothers know. The last time I saw my parents was on Christmas and I was too young to even remember. Even when I was a kid, I kind of wiped it off the calendar. My birthday too. My Christmas and birthday wishes were always for them to come back.”

She tells me they were in a boating accident and were never recovered. It pains me to hear that she never was able to have a relationship with her mother and father.

“Dylann calls it the ‘Seasonal Slumps.’”

“A lot of people get the holiday blues.”

“So now you know why I’m the delicate little sister who needs protection at all costs. Then I tried to be the independent city girl who could do everything by myself. I’ve never felt like I belong anywhere.”

“Not even with your family?” I ask,finding it hard to believe.

“I’ve never been the main character of the McGregor story.”

“If your brothers think of you as a princess, I’d beg to differ.”

She frowns. “We were more like the supporting cast in our grandfather’s theatrics. The princess and the pirates.”

“That’s better than being an NPC. And I don’t mean Navy Personnel Command. This kind of NPC stands for a non-playable character. That was my role as my parents carried out their personal dramas.”

Emmie meets my gaze with a softness in hers like we’re in the same movie and only now realizes it. “When I left my small town in southern Florida, I resolved to become a protagonist. That turned into striving, into being someone I was not.”

She’s self-reliant, but not always self-assured. I’d like to see that change for her sake because she’s amazing, dedicated, and hardworking.

Oh, and Emmie is beautiful.

Her shoulders lift and lower. “Then I poured myself into work, lived vicariously through other people’s pasts.”

I snort. “You sure you want to live through mine?”

“You were the hero, the leading figure.”

“Somewhere along the way, someone made the notion of being a regular person not enough. I don’t believe that. I rose to the occasions that I was called to. Nothing more.”

“You were surrounded by men like you, brothers.”

“So were you.”

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