Page 44 of Riding Dirty for Christmas

“I quit. Apparently telling your boss that fast fashion is killing both creativity and the planet isn't the best career move.” I wipe my eyes. “Also, I may have mentioned something about soulless corporate puppets. And used your favorite phrase about 'authentic design.'“

A slow grin spreads across his face. “You didn't.”

“Oh, I did. Complete with air quotes.” I look back at the box. “Oh my god, so many stickers. It's like an explosion in a glitter factory in there. Who was I trying to fool with all this 'Girlboss' stuff anyway?”

His whole face lights up, and suddenly I'm airborne as he lifts me off my feet. “So we're doing this? The boutique?”

The joy in his expression makes my heart flip, but reality crashes back in. “Wait.” I press my hands against his chest as he sets me down. “Are you sure about the bar? Really sure? Because I know what it means to you, and I don't want you to?—”

“Eden.” He catches my hands in his. “The bar's not going anywhere. Tony’s been asking for more responsibility for months. He loves the place almost as much as I do.” His lips quirk. “Almost.”

“But—”

“But nothing. You're not the only one who's been dreaming, Princess.” He reaches for his overnight bag, rummaging through it. “Here.”

He pulls out a folder, dog-eared and coffee-stained. Inside are printouts—financial projections, renovation estimates, even a rough floor plan of the empty storefront. My heart squeezes when I see his messy handwriting in the margins:'Display window perfect for Eden's designs'and'Keep original hardwood floors?'

“How long have you been planning this?”

“Since that first napkin sketch.” He shrugs, looking almost shy. “I figured one of us would crack eventually. Although I have to say, 'soulless corporate puppets' wasn't exactly how I pictured it happening.”

I eye the box of supplies, “I might have gone overboard with the planning materials.”

“Oh! And one more thing.” He reaches into his bag again and pulls out a tangled mess of Christmas lights. They're the same kind he uses at the bar—the cheap ones that never hang quite straight.

“Jack...” My voice wobbles.

“They're not fancy enough for your city apartment,” he says, wrestling with the tangled lights. “But I thought... for the boutique windows. Practice, you know?”

And that's what breaks me. Not his carefully planned folder of sketches, not my secret designs - but these cheap Christmas lights he stuffed in his bag and carried on a train, just to make me smile.

“I love you,” I blurt, tears spilling over. “I love you, and your crooked Christmas lights, and your small-town bar, and how you believe in me even when I'm obsessing over color-coded planners.”

He abandons the lights and pulls me close. “I love you too, Princess.” His kiss is soft, certain. “Now, how about we start packing up this place? A certain storefront is waiting for these fancy designs of yours.”

A small-town bar owner and a city fashion designer shouldn't make sense.

But we do.

“Can't wait to welcome you home properly,” he murmurs against my lips, and kisses me again.

Later, we sit cross-legged on my apartment floor, surrounded by tangled Christmas lights and scattered papers. Jack's trying to unknot the lights while I organize our combined plans into my least glittery planner.

“You know what this means?” I ask, sketching a quick design in the margin.

“That we should invest in better Christmas lights?”

“That too.” I lean against him, watching him work. “But I meant the boutique next to the bar. Our kids are going to have the weirdest how-we-met story ever.”

His hands still on the lights. “Kids, huh?”

“Eventually.” I feel my cheeks warm. “I mean, assuming you want?—”

“I want everything with you, Eden.” He gives up on the lights and pulls me into his lap. “The boutique, the bar, the badly decorated Christmas windows. All of it.”

Through my window, the city lights twinkle against the winter sky. But they don't call to me. My future is with a bar owner who carries tangled strings of lights across state lines to make me smile.

“All of it,” I echo, and mean it with every fiber of my being.

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