Page 61 of Starlight Bay

“I get it. I do, too. This is going to be fantastic, though.” I grinned at her, a quick blast of relief flooding through me. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning around nine. That way we can avoid rush hour. Be sure to pack something to wear for Christmas Eve service and the neighborhood party we go to every year.”

“Ugh. I hate you.”

“That’s the Christmas spirit,” I teased.

“One week, Nick. That’s it.” She waved her index finger in my direction as a reminder.

“I hear you. That’s the deal.”

She thrust her hand out and we shook on it.

“See you tomorrow morning,” I said, thrilled I’d actually convinced her to go with me.

Sydney rolled her eyes one more time for dramatic effect, then flounced away. My eyes followed her perfect ass until she stepped into the elevator. I shot her a quick wave as the doors slid shut; she just shook her head at me.

Christmas was coming early for me this year and I intended to make the most of our time together.

Sydney lived in a condo in Wrentham, about ten minutes from the office. Convenient, since she worked practically seven days a week during the season. Our hectic schedules were the main reason we’d broken up when I was out in Arizona—we hardly had time to talk, let alone see each other. Between my training and her non-stop publicity gigs, she didn’t think it made sense to keep dating. I disagreed, but what can you do?

I pulled into her driveway, but didn’t even get a chance to turn off the car before she raced out the door, her bright pink rollaboard trailing behind her.

“Morning, sunshine,” I said as she opened the passenger door and tossed her purse into my SUV, then reached in and set her travel coffee mug into the cupholder.

“Morning.”

“I would have carried your bag for you,” I said, popping the trunk. I lifted her bright pink suitcase into the back.

“I know. But I didn’t want to make us late.” She climbed in and I closed the door behind her.

“We’re fine. We’ll miss most of the Boston traffic from here. You excited?” I asked, cutting my eyes at her and grinning.

“Oh yeah. Nothing I love more than spending the holidays with my ex.” She took a sip of her coffee as I turned out onto the main road and headed towards I-95.

“About that.”

“Nick.” Her voice was low.

“What?” I fiddled with the radio station, searching for a traffic update before settling on the Top 40 station.

“What do you mean—about that?”

“It’s nothing, really. No big deal.”

“Uh-huh. You’re playing the player here, buddy. I’m a PR professional; it’s my job to know when people are lying and you’re full of shit. Spill. Now.”

I drummed on the steering wheel, nerves slamming around in my gut, my palms sweaty. “It’s just, my mom—the whole family, really—might be under the impression we’re still together.”

“What?” Sydney’s voice rose an octave and a half and my eardrums felt it. “How? Why?”

“She liked you so much, I didn’t have the heart to tell her we broke up.”

“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or pissed off.” She slumped back in her seat, her empty hand fidgeting with a button on her coat.

“I’d go with flattered. Start the week on a positive note.” I grinned over at her and she chucked me lightly in the arm.

“Hey, what did I tell you about these biceps?”

“Funny, Milton, real funny. I can’t believe you never told your family we broke up.” She shook her head at me, her dark ponytail swishing against the leather seat.

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