Page 130 of The Thief Who Saved Christmas

Then he kisses me as if I’d just said something sexy. “How about we do it my way next Christmas?”

I’d rather not, and yet….he’s promising that we’ll be together next Christmas. “Only if we get to do it my way again the following year.”

“We’ll probably both agree your way is best by then,” he says, grinning at me. “So the fourth year, we can just call itourway.”

I only have so much self-restraint, so I kiss him. I have a feeling that will be happening a lot as we put the presents under the tree and hang the stockings by the chimney with care.

And even though it’s not a very orderly way to carry on, I’m much too happy to care.

EPILOGUE

RYAN

New Year’s Eve

“They must almost be here,” I say, glancing at the clock.Eight p.m.I’m finishing the last of the appetizers—deviled eggs with cut bell peppers forming Santa hats.

Since we’re going to be a year-round Christmas B&B, Cynthia and I have been experimenting with Christmassy recipes, trying to one-up each other. We’d probably be doing it tonight if she and Jeremy weren’t at his mother’s “famous” New Year’s party, which he claims is only famous because it’s so boring everyone always gets shit-faced before nine.

“But we’re not going to,” he told me before they left, waving his trumpet case at me. Apparently his mother always makes him play in front of the guests, and has since he was ten years old. “We’re going to stay sober at this incredibly boring party so we can leave early and meet your brother.”

“You just want to convince him to pull pranks with me.”

“I do want that,” he said with a laugh. “But I mostly want to meet the man who had the misfortune of sharing a womb with such a scene-stealer.”

I’ve been living with Jeremy, technically, although I spend most of my time at the inn. So does he. His apartment is a perfectly fine two-bedroom with a view of the parking lot, but the B&B is something different. It’s home.

I was also going to work with Jeremy’s uncle—everything was settled for me to start in January—but Ada got in touch with me yesterday and said she’d talked to her “kid,” and he could use a reliable line cook at a Greek restaurant that’s a ten-minute drive from the inn. No experience necessary as long as I didn’t think I was above hard work.

If I didn’t think I was above shoveling shit or unclogging it from toilets, I definitely don’t feel like I’m above washing plates. So I’ll be doing that instead. The hours aren’t great, but it’ll give me plenty of time to help out at the inn during the day and to work out in the morning.

Cynthia’s father thinks he can get me out of the assault charges given the “interesting” nature of the case, in exchange for doing community service. And Ada told me about a program that supports foster kids. I’m gonna help with that whether the judge orders me to or not. Anabelle keeps telling me that things might have been different for Jake and me if we’d had someone on our side, and I think maybe she’s right. If I can be that someone for a kid, I’d be taking another step in the right direction. Making myself worthier.

As for Weston and Mr. Whitman…

They’re both out on bail, surprise, surprise, but Anabelle was able to get an emergency restraining order against Weston. All the same, I don’t think he’ll be coming around anytime soon. He cares about his public perception, and right now it’s not very fucking good. It didn’t take the internet long to put the pieces together—that he and Anabelle’s father were the ones who’d stolen the Santas and the ornaments, and Jeremy says he sawon social media that someone had spray-painted a Grinch on Weston’s car.

It wasn’t me.

It felt weird not to tell Jake about my new job and Anabelle and all of our friends. Especially Anabelle. That was what finally pushed me to make the call this morning, which just so happens to be New Year’s Eve.

Anabelle, who has spent the last hour trying to keep me sane, furrows her brow. “What if Jake doesn’t like me? I can’t believe I didn’t think of that before now.”

“Impossible,” I say, setting down the last deviled egg so I can grab her by the waist. She’s wearing a long-sleeved red dress with a tempting little skirt that seems like it was designed to be flipped up from behind. Imagining it is a good distraction from my own nerves. “My brother’s going to love you, and if he doesn’t, I’ll be the one who disowns him.”

Jake is comingtoday, even though he had plans and the drive from Asheville is seven hours. That’s a good sign, right? Most people wouldn’t drive that far just to tell someone who’d pissed them off to go fuck themselves.

When he answered the phone early this morning, and I saidhey, he was quiet for a second, before he said, “Jesus Christ, is it really you?”

“Is that a bad Jesus Christ or a good one?”

“Do you know how worried I’ve been?”

“No,” I said honestly. “I figured you still might not want to see me.”

“Well, you figured wrong. I’ve been emailing you practically every day for months. Ever since you and the guys turned the tables on Roark. Where are you?”

Five minutes later, after I’d told him about Anabelle and the inn and he’d told me about his girl, Lainey, he said he had to go,but I’d better not fucking leave the inn all day, because he was coming. And he was bringing his girl.

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