Page 87 of Mistletoe Kisses

Lucas laughed. “I promise to be very good.”

I tilted my face toward him. “Can I tell you something?” My words came out shaky.

He turned toward me, and his easy smile morphed into concern. “Always.”

“This is way too soon, but I know what I feel for you is big. I…I love you.” I let out a huge exhale on the last word. I hadn’t planned to tell him, but the words had crawled out of me. I was stunned by how easily he’d accepted me—and the people important to me—into his life. I couldn’t start the new year without him knowing how deeply I cared for him.

Lucas’s lips curved into a wide smile. “Oh, Arlo. I love you too. So much. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been. What we feel for each other is real.” He met my lips with his own.

The love of a wonderful man was one heck of a way to start a new year and a new life.

Epilogue

ARLO

One year later

White lights and garland draped across the top of bookshelves, giving the store a festive glow. Ron and I had set up gift recommendation tables with themed groupings of books, like gifts for mystery lovers or for philosophical people. We’d had to refill the tables multiple times already this month.

The store had a steady stream of customers throughout the Festival of Lights this year, and especially today, with the Making Spirits Bright event starting in a while. My stomach swooped at what I would do in an hour or two, but the swoop was only about fifty percent anxiety, which was frankly an astounding feat.

“Is that an event calendar?” A customer snagged a postcard I’d gotten printed with our events happening over the first quarter of next year. It had worked well to keep a stack by the register for people to grab as they left.

I continued ringing up their books. “It is. We have a drag queen story hour event on New Year’s Day and the first meeting of the fantasy book club’s new selection on January third.”

“There’s a fantasy book club? My son would love that.”

I pulled another postcard from the rack display at the counter’s edge that explained our book clubs. “Yes! We have book clubs for several genres that meet regularly. It’s free, and we have the books available for purchase here. We also partner with Dahlia Springs library, and they always have copies of the books available for checkout too.”

The woman smiled at the postcard. “This is such a great idea. You do a women’s fiction book club? Wonderful. I’ll make sure my walking club knows.”

“Arlo, here, is responsible for all the great changes at the store.” Ron clapped a hand on my shoulder.

I flushed happily at his praise. Ron gave it so freely, and I was still getting used to it. Ron had been exceptionally vocal about his pleasure with my work lately. Combined with the fact that there had been something off about him the past couple of days, it made me nervous. Was he closing the store? The books seemed solid, and I thought we were in the black.

There was a steady line of people to check out for the next twenty minutes. When we reached a lull in traffic as people were likely heading to the event, Ron went over and flipped the sign to closed.

“I know we’re supposed to be open for ten more minutes, but we make the rules, and I want to talk to you about something.” He ran his fingers over his beard in the nervous gesture I’d learned he had.

My stomach nose-dived as I braced for the worst.

“It’s something good.” His smile reassured me, but the nerves were already firing through my body. Too late to call the troops back.

With Ron starting his week of vacation tomorrow, I wasn’t sure why he wanted to have a serious conversation now. Unless it had something to do with me covering for him?

The usual anxious feelings reared up, but they weren’t as sharp as they’d been for years. Between the great therapist I’d found locally and simply being happier, anxiety hadn’t ruled my life quite as fiercely as it once had. It was still a constant companion, but we’d learned how to better travel through life together.

Ron took a deep breath. “I’ll just come out with it. I want to retire and give you the store to run.”

I blinked at him a few times while my brain was eerily silent for a few moments. The stillness was more unnerving than the usual white noise. As though my brain rebooted, it began swimming with logistics. I was swept away in a flashflood of questions, concerns, and to-do lists.

There was no way I could get a loan to cover the purchase of a business. I didn’t have much savings, and a year’s employment at the bookstore wouldn’t be enough to prove my financial security. Could I even manage the loan payments? Ron paid me as best he could, and even though the store was making significantly more money, adding me as a second employee had nearly canceled that out.

Ron grabbed my shoulders and steadied me. I stared into his green eyes that were so much like my own. His warm smile tugged at the red beard he’d been growing all fall. He’d been great about navigating my anxiety in moments when I got overwhelmed. When we did our first signing with an author who drove from Seattle, I’d been on the verge of a panic attack. What if no one came? Or if they came, what if they didn’t buy her book?

Ron had talked me down. He’d reminded me that the only way to successfully run a business was to take risks and change with the times. Something he’d admitted he’d stopped doing when he’d been burned out until I came along.

“I don’t know if I can qualify for a loan,” I blurted. Maybe Ron would let me make payments to him over time in a rent-to-own situation.

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