Page 82 of The Christmas Romance Wish

After stoking the fire, we settle on the couch, gingerbread cookies and milk on the table in front of us.

I take a bite and they taste even better than I remember. Maybe everything will, now that I’ve cast off my shackles.

After taking a sip of milk, I say, “Remember when I told you a bit about my family? I didn’t tell you everything. We have what I call a backstory.”

Alex lifts his eyebrows.

I tell him how we descended from Portuguese royalty and that the part of the family who claimed what’s now Brazil for the crown was cast away. “Sending João to the new land was Adão’s ploy to get rid of his twin. Distraught, he died, leaving his wife and children to fend for themselves. His wife—my great, great, great or so grandmother, Márcia—was resourceful and by that I mean she turned to piracy to help the family survive.”

“Like swords and treasure types of pirates?”

I nod. “She became the pirate queen, the Devil’s Charm, and in her bitterness at being widowed, she created the Coroa de Lágrimas, the crown of tears, and swore revenge on the House of Sousa back in Portugal.”

“Sounds like a movie.”

“It might be, one day. But the crown was lost. My grandfather, Chip, commissioned my brothers to find it.” I tap the buttons on Alex’s shirt. “So, if you should someday meet them, be prepared for an earful, at least from CJ.”

“Will do. Didthey find the crown?”

“As far as I know, everyone except CJ thinks it’s a fairy tale.” Biting my lip, I add, “But I’d like for you to come with me to Coco Key if you think you can stand some fictional tall tales.”

“I’d love to. So you’re technically a princess.”

“Kind of. Well, and a pirate. Before my grandfather passed away, he asked me to write his story and I’ve been working on it.”

“That’s quite the story.”

“But it’s not my story.”

Before I can say more, Alex plants a kiss on my lips. “Emmie, it’s time we start writing our story.”

“I’d like that. A fresh start.”

“So, do you really want to be my Mrs. Claus?” Alex’s eyes twinkle.

My lips curve up. “Marry me tomorrow.”

“Funny you should say that because I asked Pastor Jeff about a Christmas Day wedding.” Alex produces the engagement ring from his pocket. “Emmie, will you marry me?”

I throw my arms around Alex’s neck, kiss him twelve times at least, and then he slides the ring around my finger.

The next morning, I wake up early to a white Christmas. Alex and I have breakfast and then I scoot back upstairs to get ready. My laundry still isn’t clean, but I have the white dress I bought to be Mrs. Claus—Alex thought that for sure, he’d be the one to dress as Mr. Claus at the church event, so he wanted me to be prepared.

I style my hair in loose curls. I snag a few little snowflake paperclips that somehow ended up in the cart during the shopping spree at the market and pin them where a veil would clip in.

Thankfully, Dylann insisted I bring my “Sugar shoes,” the pair of high heels studded with sparkly gemstones and pearls.

From outside, the whirring of a helicopter sounds at the same time a car honks. Confused, I peer out the window. Voices rise and fall. Is this a military operation or something else?

I open the door and Shaylin stands there, about to knock.

“You look beautiful. I was just coming to find you. We have to hurry to the church before the service starts. I’m your elf escort. Oh, and happy birthday.”

I don’t even have time to be grouchy about that, nor do I want to. Not today.

When we get outside, the helicopter peels off toward Holidayle. Shaylin makes sure my gown is safely inside her white 4Runner before speeding toward the church.

We chat, but mostly my mind races to keep up with her speed on the winding country roads and the red helicopter above.

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