Page 1 of Can't Miss Christmas

CHAPTER 1

Two Days Before Christmas

The sensible voice inside Graham Walker’s head told him tokeep walkingpast the big Barnes and Noble at the Prudential Center in downtown Boston, where Grace Alberts was, at this very moment, signing her latest book.Adaline’s Christmaswas about the madcap adventures of a spunky little orphan who was adopted by loving parents. Every little girl in America read Adaline. Hell, evenhe’dread the damn books, not because he used to be married to their author, but because his seven-year-old niece, Emmy, begged him to read them with her. The child had never lost her soft spot for Grace, even though they’d been divorced for two years.

Maybehehadn’t lost that soft spot either, but he pushed that thought down, even as he turned his collar up against the pelting snow. The weather was getting nasty. It was already pushing six p.m., and he had a five-hour drive ahead of him to get home to his folks’ house in Philly for the holidays.

So should he do it? Go in there, for Emmy of course, and have Grace sign a book? Wish her Merry Christmas for old times’ sake. Look the woman in the eye who stirred up more turbulent feelings than the last presidential election…but whom he’d once loved more than anyone.

Graham slowed his steps, passing shop windows rimmed with glowing lights, and shoppers walking with their heads down, clutching their bags against the driving wind. At the familiar clang of a Salvation Army Santa’s bell, he stopped to toss a buck into the familiar red kettle. A roped-off lot sold Christmas trees that were quickly getting heaped on with snow. At this late date, there were just a few misfit-looking ones left.

That made him think of Grace and their first tree, a scrawny little thing they’d decorated with a single strand of lights and some cheap drugstore ornaments. What he really remembered was what they did afterward. After they’d plugged it in and dimmed the room lights, they’d tossed a couple of blankets on the floor and welcomed in Christmas wrapped in them and each other. Best Christmas ever.

That memory punched him straight in the gut, giving him a queasy sensation that should’ve warned him off and brought him to his senses. Yet for some reason, it made him stop dead on the street.

Fat, wet flakes covered his eyelashes, his hair, his coat, bathing him in white. Maybe he needed to look Grace in the eye and let her know he was all right. And see for himself that she was too. You could eventually come to be friends with someone who’d ripped your heart out, right?

His feet made the final decision for him, even though his stomach was rumbling and he really needed to get going on the long drive ahead. He retraced his path, finally stepping out of the frigid cold into the crowded Huntington Arcade, riding the escalator, and finally entering the golden-lit bookstore. It was full of Christmas lights and children—droves of them, despite the ominous weather—standing in a twisty-turny line that wound clear around the inside like a toy train on a track. The manager was creating yet another bend in it so people wouldn’t be forced to wait outside in the cold.

Graham let himself be herded into the crowd. He shook the snow off his coat and ran his fingers through his hair, not because he was trying to make it look better but because of nerves. He strained to see to the front of the line.

A little girl in front of him dressed in a red hat with elf ears jumped up and down, tugging on her mother’s sleeve. Behind him, a fussy toddler wailed. Outside was freezing, but the store was stuffy and hot. He undid the buttons on his coat.

“Could I have your attention, please?” came a familiar voice from the middle of the store. The line silenced, as if the kids suddenly sensed the importance of the person talking. A head popped up—blonde, wavy, stylish—and suddenly, there Grace was, standing on a desk in a gray sweater and jeans, a scarf wound casually around her neck.

His breath caught; his feet planted. His heart did an uncomfortable roll. He was gobsmacked, mesmerized by her unfussy beauty, by the simple joy that had overtaken her face. By her lovely smile. How could he possibly have the same reaction as when he’d first met her at eighteen?

The whole place hushed, and the eyes of the children surrounding him grew round with awe, as if meeting her was on the same caliber as a visit with Santa.

This had been a bad idea. He wasn’t ready. Maybe he’d never be ready, and he’d always feel this uncomfortable slurry of regret, loss, and yearning that even now threatened to overwhelm him.

From her high perch, Grace was using her arms, asking for quiet, gesturing emphatically as she always did when she was excited. She looked thin. Too thin.

“Thank you all for coming,” she said, “but the store manager’s just informed me that you’re expecting eight to ten inches of snow tonight, and the roads are getting bad.” A collective murmur went up from the crowd.

“Please don’t quit signing,” a little girl said mournfully.

“No, sweetie,” Grace said, beaming her smile the child’s way. “I’m not going to stop. But for all of you who have long, treacherous trips, we’re going to come around with a piece of paper. You can write down who you want me to sign the book to, and it’ll be waiting for you in a couple of days when you come back. That way, you can all get home safely. How’s that sound?”

“We aren’t leaving,” said a mom.

“Yeah, really,” another parent said. “As long as you can stay, we can stay.”

Grace exchanged glances with a woman he assumed was the store manager, who shrugged. “All right, then,” Grace said. “But please don’t compromise your safety for a book, okay?”

She sat back down, conversing and laughing, hugging children as she carefully signed each book. She’d always loved kids. It had been the heartbreak of their marriage that they’d lost their own child.

Watching from afar, Graham felt as if there had been no tragedy, no rivers of tears. As she laughed and smiled and handed over her books, he was reminded of when he first saw her working in the children’s section of the local library near their college. He used to hang out there when he was homesick, a place off campus where he could see families and be reminded of the real world outside the university. Finally, he’d made up some excuse to talk to her. It had taken him about a minute to fall in love with her.

Never would he have predicted what had happened between them. Never would he have imagined they would not weather the devastation of a very ill premature baby, the strains of his fledgling sports apparel business, and then her sudden, exploding fame. Yet somehow they’d let each other slip away.

If he closed his eyes for a second and forgot all the other stuff, it still felt like she was his.

No. He’d moved on. So what was he doing here, mini-stalking her? He could buy Emma an unsigned copy, and she’d never know Grace had been signing books.

With that sensible thought, Graham left the line and headed toward the exit, exhaling a breath of relief. He’d almost made it past the information desk when he heard his name.

A mumbled curse left his lips before he stopped and turned, but he already knew who it was. “Monica,” he said to a polished woman in a suit and heels who stood directly in front of him, hands on hips. He would’ve added ahow nice to see youbut he didn’t mean it and couldn’t bring himself to lie.

---