Page 54 of The Night Before Grumpmas
“We’re still celebrating Grumpmass, aren’t we?” he asks, his tone softer now, his hand sliding into mine.
My heart flutters at the warmth of his touch. “We are,” I say, my voice quieter. I want this to work. I want us to work. I want him to be the guy I spend this Christmas with. Maybe even more than just this Christmas.
“Are you sure you can’t stay for the holiday?” he asks, and I can hear the hope in his voice.
I shake my head, feeling a pang of guilt. “My family and I are flying to California on Thursday to spend Christmas with Val. So . . . Tuesday’s basically the only day Grumpmass can happen.”
Jacob smirks, the corner of his mouth lifting in that familiar, grumpy-yet-endearing way. “Grumpmass? I can’t believe you called it that.”
I grin, leaning into him just a little more. “Yeah, you know, the substitute Christmas we’re spending together because well, you’re the grump next door.”
He squeezes my hand gently, and in that moment, with the twinkling lights above us and the soft sound of carols in the air, I can’t help but hope for something more than just a holiday fling. I want him to be my person. My Christmas, and maybe my always.
“Right,” he says with a chuckle. “I’ll do my best to live up to the title.”
I shake my head, smiling as I lean into him a little more. The cold air nips at my cheeks, but being close to him makes everything feel warmer. And even though I know there’s still a lot up in the air—work, the gala, the fact that I’m technically homeless—for the first time in a while, I feel . . . steady.
“It’s been a while since things felt this . . . peaceful.” I kiss his cheek. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“For what?” he asks, his brow lifting.
“For everything,” I say, resting my head against his shoulder. “For trying. For making me feel . . . enough.”
Jacob doesn’t say anything for a moment, but the way he squeezes my hand says more than words could. The carriage turns a corner, and we pass by the big Christmas tree in the center of town, its lights twinkling like stars. I close my eyes, breathing in the crisp air, letting myself enjoy this one perfect moment.
Somehow I feel like even without Grumpmass or Christmas, we’re going to be just fine.
Chapter Thirty-One
Noelle
I stepoff the train and into the busy streets of New York, the cold air immediately biting at my skin. Monday morning, bright and early. No time to ease back into the busy streets. My feet practically carry me to the office on autopilot, my mind already running through a mental checklist of all the things that need to be done for the gala.
By the time I settle at my desk, it’s a blur of emails, phone calls, and a growing to-do list. I’m chasing down auction items, rearranging the seating chart, and trying to get the caterer on the same page for what feels like the hundredth time. Every time I think I’ve figured something out, something else pops up. I don’t even have time to look at the clock until it’s almost seven.
Miracles happen around Christmas, right? That’s how it works in all those cheesy holiday movies. Everything falls into place at the last minute with some twinkly music in the background. So, I tell myself everything will be fine by tomorrow. It has to be.
I grab my purse and head home, my shoulders aching from hunching over my desk all day. It’s been nonstop, and all I can think about is getting back, slipping into something comfy, and taking a deep breath before facing the madness tomorrow. Hopefully Jacob will come through and will take care of dinner.
But when I reach my building, something catches my eye—Jacob.
Standing in front of the door. In a suit. A very fancy suit.
He looks like he just walked out of some high-end event—his hair perfectly styled, the sharp black suit hugging him in all the right places, and that look of pure determination on his face. He’s trying way too hard not to look like a total heartthrob, and it’s working . . . sort of. My heart does that ridiculous little flip it always does when I see him.
Then I notice he’s holding something. A set of keys.
“What . . . what are you doing here?” I ask, my voice shaky from a mix of surprise and, okay, maybe a little excitement.
He steps forward, holding out the keys. “Thought you might need these.”
I blink, completely confused. “Keys? To what?”
Without saying anything, he opens the door to the main lobby and gestures for me to follow. Curiosity piqued, I step inside.
As we walk up the three flights of stairs, I can feel my heart racing—and not just from the climb. His silence is killing me, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at me that makes me think I’m not about to hate whatever’s on the other side of this.
When we finally reach the third floor, Jacob leads me to my grandma’s apartment. And that’s when I see it. The brand-new lock . . . and hanging just below it is a festive wreath with the words Merry Grumpmass spelled out in big, cheerful letters.
