Page 55 of The Night Before Grumpmas
I freeze, my heart skipping a beat, emotions swirling inside me—confusion, excitement, disbelief. “Jacob . . . did you?—?”
“I fixed it,” he says, his voice softer now, but still steady. “Your grandma’s apartment. It’s hers now and she’s happy to let you live here while she’s enjoying warmer places. I get that you’re not ready for us to live together, but we can be neighbors again.”
For a moment, I just stand there, staring at him like he’s some kind of Christmas miracle I didn’t see coming. The keys in his hand . . . the wreath . . . the lock . . . it’s all starting to sink in.
“Why would you?—?”
“Because I promised I would fix it. I was an idiot,” he admits, stepping closer, his eyes locking onto mine. “And because I love you, Noelle Joy Holiday. More than I’ve loved anyone. Merry Grumpmass.”
I laugh, but it’s the kind of laugh that comes when you’re trying not to cry. Before I can stop myself, I close the distance between us and throw my arms around him, pulling him into a hug that says everything I can’t put into words right now.
“I love you, too, Mr. Grump. Merry Grumpmass,” I whisper, holding onto him tightly, not ready to let go of this moment—or him.
He squeezes me gently, and then, without a word, he pulls back and unlocks the door. When it swings open, I freeze. Inside, the apartment is glowing with soft, warm light. In the corner, a Christmas tree stands tall, already filled with ornaments—some of which I recognize from the daily gifts he’s been sending me. Twinkle lights wrap around the branches, casting a magical glow across the room.
But that’s not all.
Lining the walls are signed hockey sticks, footballs, and jerseys—all donated by athletes I’ve been trying to get on board for the gala. I blink, my mind struggling to catch up. And then, I see it: a neat stack of paperwork on the table, with names of people I didn’t even know had expressed interest. Tables for the gala—sold out.
I turn to Jacob, speechless. “You?—”
“Got a few more donations,” he says casually, like it’s no big deal. “And the rest of the tables? Bought by my athletes and friends. The gala’s set. You’re all good.”
I feel my breath catch in my throat. The gala is set. After weeks of stress, sleepless nights, and endless worries, it’s done. Miracles do happen . . . and apparently, they happen the night before Grumpmass delivered by Mr. Grump Next Door.
“Jacob . . .” My voice cracks, and I have no idea how to thank him for this. “I don’t know what to say.”
He steps closer, his hands sliding around my waist, pulling me in. “You don’t have to say anything. Just . . . let me be your Grumpmass miracle.”
I laugh softly, resting my head against his chest. “You’re not nearly as grumpy as you think you are.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” he mutters into my hair, a smile in his voice. “I have a reputation to uphold.”
I pull back just enough to look up at him, my heart so full it feels like it might burst. “Thank you. For everything.”
Jacob doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, he leans down, his lips brushing against mine, soft and slow. “Merry Grumpmass, Noelle,” he whispers, his breath warm against my skin.
And then he kisses me.
Really kisses me.
It’s not the soft, tentative kisses we’ve shared before. This one is deep, full of everything unsaid—gratitude, forgiveness, something that feels a lot like love. His hands slide up to cup my face, pulling me closer, and I melt into him, letting the world around us fade away. The only thing I’m aware of is the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against mine and the way his lips move with mine, like we’ve been doing this forever.
It’s the kind of kiss that makes my toes curl and my stomach flip, the kind that tells me, without a doubt, that this is where I belong. In his arms, in this moment, with him.
Epilogue
Jacob
One year later. . .
It took six months to convince Noelle to move in with me. We finally left her old apartment behind and settled into a brownstone in Boston, where we’re closer to our families. Mom and Noelle get along too well it’s scary. Also, my girl has more space to decorate to her heart’s content without bothering the neighbors. Not everyone can handle living in Noelle-land, but—surprisingly—it’s become my favorite place. The only place I want to be for the rest of my life.
It’s the second week of December, and we just got back from San Diego after spending the weekend celebrating the birth of my nephew, Legend. I still don’t understand why Audrey and Liam chose that name, but I’m not about to give them a hard time. Max is doing enough of that for the both of us.
As I step onto the rooftop patio of our new place, I can’t help but admire the scene the concierge I hired has created for us. It’s exactly what I envisioned for tonight.
Twinkling lights hang above, gently draped across the pergola, casting a soft, warm glow over the space. Fall and Christmas candles—pumpkin spice, cinnamon, and vanilla—flicker gently on the small tables. There are flowers too—deep reds and oranges—perfect fall hues arranged in rustic vases. It’s simple, but perfect. I’m trying to emulate the day we met, adding a little ambiance of Grumpmass which is not until next week, but I want to get ahead of schedule this time.
