Page 40 of Flown in for Christmas

I want to find the nearest hole, crawl inside, and cry for days.

Tears well in my eyes, my gaze locked with Betty’s as I shake my head. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—” The words lodge in my throat, a choked sob escaping me.

Nick’s hand falls to wrap around my waist, tugging me against him. Protective to a fault. Yet, the words needed to explain this—this ruse seems to be eluding us both. How could anyone explain what we’re doing—why we’re doing it? And his cousin just proposed in front of everyone…

This is so messy. I have no idea where to even start.

“We thought you should know the kind of person your son is, Bruce,” Darcy states firmly, clearly not at a loss for words. “Allowing a stranger to come into your home and wear such a stunning family heirloom. An imposter tainting the sanctity of Christmas.” She shakes her head. “What were you thinking,Nicholas? Did you ever stop to think about what this could do to your father’s health? The stress alone is—”

“Enough,” Nick barks, his jaw ticking. The heat in his gaze falters as his father finally looks up from the paper in hand. “Joy had nothing to do with this. It was all my idea. And yeah, sure, it started as a lie, but it’s not anymore. I love her—”

A commotion sounds from the foyer, a muffled, “North Tree Sheriff’s department,” has a gasp passing my lips as does everyone in the room. Did they call thepolice?

The crowd parts under the archway to reveal three deputies. “We have a warrant for the arrest of Billy Shoemocker.”

Heads turn, people stare around the room until Bruce speaks up, “There’s no one here by that—”

“Joy!” My father appears between officers, his gaze quickly scans the room. His grey suit is ruffled, his tie crooked, his salt and pepper hair mussed, and the worry lines around his eyes are deeper than usual.

“Dad,” I breathe, stepping forward.

“Jesus, Joy,” he says, his heart pounding against my ear as he pulls me into his chest. “I’ve been calling you for hours.” He holds me at arm’s length. “Where is he?”

I blink rapidly. “What—Who? Dad, what are you doing here?”

“Eric Davis,” he seethes, his gaze lifting over my head. “He’s wanted for several charges of fraud, blackmail, identity theft, and is up for extradition to Canada for second-degree murder.” He points behind me. “There, Sheriff. Arrest him.”

Two officers move in and all hell breaks loose. Eric—or Billy—makes a beeline for the patio doors, shoving guests left and right before he’s tackled to the ground. Obscenities fly. Chaos ensues.

Amidst it all, attention is called to Bruce and Betty who pale at the revelation, needing to take a seat to gather themselves amongst the excitement. Their faces are a mixture of shock, hurt, and betrayal.

Nick and Natalie go to them immediately.

I stay back, watching everything unfold before my very eyes. This is all my fault. Several guests stare at me as Betty begins to weep uncontrollably, and I have never felt smaller under their questioning gazes.

I never intended for any of this to happen. I never wanted to hurt anyone. I only wanted to help Nick and his family and now…

Guilt and tears clog my throat.

I ruined Christmas.

“Joy,” my father coaxes, gently taking me by the upper arms. He rubs them soothingly. “There’s nothing else we can do here.”

But he doesn’t know I love him, too.

Nineteen.

Nick

Eric or Billy orwhoeverthefuck is hauled into the foyer as Aunt Sara hands my mother a glass of water, rubbing her back. She started crying the moment she sat down and it is taking everything my father has to console her.

“W-We let a killer into this house, Bruce,” she cries. “With our babies!”

Natalie hugs her. “Shhh, Mom, it’s okay,” she says. “You didn’t know.”

My father shakes his head, his face red in anger. “I should’ve listened to you, son.” He grips my shoulder. “I’m sorry we didn’t.”

“Ma’am, you’re going to need to come with us,” an officerstates, and I turn.

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