Page 69 of Getting Lucky

“This deserves a countdown,” Maisie said. “Five, four.”

Iris joined in.

“Three, two, one.”

Jack plugged in the cord and…nothing.

Maisie laughed. “Are you sure the lights work?”

He shot her a dark look, then laughed. After he checked the plugs, he realized one of them hadn’t been pushed in all the way. They had another countdown, shouting the last numbers, and when they got to one, Jack plugged in the last cord and the bushes burst into light.

He hurried toward Maisie and Iris, then turned to look at the bushes. While they were lit up in white lights, it looked like a half-assed effort compared to the bare two-story house.

“Well, it’s not the house fromChristmas Vacation,” Maisie said in a teasing tone.

“I’ll do better next year,” he said, frowning as he studied the house. He knew she was stretching out of her comfort zone, and he really wanted to make it special.

“Jack,” Maisie said, her voice tight.

He glanced down at her.

“It’s better than I could have imagined.”

He smiled even though his heart ached to pull her into his arms. He was about to say Iris be damned, but then he saw his sister watching him with narrowed eyes, as though she was trying to look deep into his soul.

So instead he grasped Maisie’s hand and held on tight. It would have to do for now.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Einstein apparently had a thing for Jack now. The only other man he did anything but tolerate was River. Maisie couldn’t help but think it was a sign, even as her mind bemoaned the use of the word “sign” for anything other than a street directive. But she strived to, above all things, be honest with herself, and last night, standing outside with Iris and Jack in front of seven glowing bushes, her heart had felt full in a way she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“They would have liked him,” she’d found herself saying to Mary and Molly this morning when she’d video-called them to show off the house.

“The important thing isyoulike him,” Molly had said. “And that he has arms that could sail a thousand ships.”

“I’m happy for you,” Mary added. There were tears in her eyes, or at least it had looked like it. “The house is beautiful. I wish we were there.”

And if that wasn’t a Christmas miracle, Maisie didn’t know what was.

“Remember,” Molly had said to her before signing off. “Take down all the details you can this weekend. Record people if at all possible. This epic cluster of a gathering needs to be preserved for posterity. Future anthropologists will study it.”

Maybe she was right. It certainly wasn’t going well so far. She’d met the Buchanan crew over at Beau’s old house so Adalia could drive them all to their destination—the Biltmore Estate—in Finn’s Range Rover. The brewery tour didn’t kick off until later in the afternoon, but the bachelorette party had begun early, so Finn had invited all of the guys, including Tyrion, over to his house to watch River’s favorite movie. It was unclear whether Prescott was coming as well, although for the well-being of both Jack and River, she hoped the answer was a solid no. River had called her earlier in the morning, his voice a little panicked, to talk about Prescott again. She’d reminded him of what she’d said before—Georgie loved him, Prescott was a bully, and he had nothing to worry about. Besides, she would be there for most of it.

“Talk to Jack,” she’d suggested to River. “You two have more in common than you’d think.”

For a moment, she’d had a strange sliver of doubt. Hadn’t it occurred to her in the beginning that Jack was a little too like River for comfort? But the feeling faded quickly, replaced by an ironclad certainty. Sure, they had some things in common, but they were hardly the same person. Jack’s battles had been his own. Plus, he fit her in a way River never had—if River had seemed like the perfect match for her high school self, Jack was a better counterpart to the woman she’d become.

“Huh,” River had said. “I hadn’t realized you were such good friends.”

“We’ve become close,” she said, leaving it at that. Because it was the only way she knew how to describe what they were becoming to each other.

“Want to tell me about it?” he asked softly.

“Maybe later,” she said. “Let’s get through this first.”

Because it certainly felt like something to “get through.” The round of introductions had gone stiffly, with Victoria sniffing and saying something about being at a disadvantage since she had to remember so many names, when everyone else only had to remember one. Which was pretty amusing, really, given she’d met Dottie before—no one forgot Dottie—and she presumably knew what both of Lee’s sisters were called.

“What kind of bachelorette party starts atthree in the afternoon?” Iris bemoaned. “It’s not like Georgie’s eighty.”

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