Page 103 of Holly and Nick Hate Christmas
I didn’t. I hurried out of the living room, tears pricking my eyes. I flung open the front door and thundered down the steps to the walkway. Above me, a star-studded sky stretched across the acreage I’d grown up on. The acreage I was losing. To Florida.
To Nick.
How had so much changed in just five minutes?
Nick caught me halfway to the driveway, his hand gentle on my arm. “Please.”
I spun to face him, crossing my arms over my chest. My face heated despite the cold wind skirting the edge of the house. “Did you name this one too?”
He stopped short. “What do you mean?”
“Let me guess. Operation: Reindeer Games.” I rolled my eyes. “No, that’s too cute. Maybe it was just Operation: Holly’s an Idiot.”
Nick ducked his head, eyes riveted on mine. “That’s not fair.”
“No,thisisn’t fair.” Above us, inflatable Frosty tilted in the wind, his smile suddenly much more sinister than I remembered. “You came here as a favor to Ryan, but…no, it wasn’t even that, was it?”
The truth piled up in my mind, and my words tripped over themselves as I processed out loud. “You just wanted to get in with my parents the whole time. Wow.” I shook my head, myhuff of breath clouding the air. “So you actually used meandRyan.”
“It wasn’t like that.” Frustration warred in Nick’s eyes as he took a step toward me. Then he hesitated, brows furrowing. “Okay, well…maybe a little…just at first.”
I stepped back. He admitted it. “Iknewall along your sudden interest in me was too good to be true. I mean, you clearly weren’t interested when you got here, and you only kept it going so you could get your camp.” My heart cracked at the weight of my own words. At the memory of our kisses. It felt like someone had taken a Sharpie and scribbled over everything I’d held dear the past week, canceling it out in permanent ink. “This makes so much more sense.”
Good grief, I’d been such a fool. I had even shared those doubts with Nick, reminding him that I’d been awful and annoying…which he’d written off in an endearing way by arguing that I’d been adorable and creative.
But it was all part of his plan.
“There’s a lot more to this story.” Nick’s voice pierced through the cloud fogging my brain. “But please know that everything I’ve told you in the last few days about us—about my feelings for you—is true.”
“How in the world am I supposed to believe that? The entire week has been nothing but lies. From both of us. To everyone.” I shuddered. I deserved this, didn’t I, after all the tricks? The operations.
All these years, and Christmas finally got the last laugh.
Pain shadowed Nick’s face. “Look, I get it. We messed up. And you’re right—I don’t know how to make you believe me.” His brown eyes held mine. “But I’ll do anything to try.”
A bitter laugh erupted from my lips. I was not falling for that again. Sure, I was going to crumble later, but right now, staying mad seemed way better than allowing the building tsunami ofpain to escape my heart. “Don’t worry. I won’t stand in your way.” I lifted both hands into the air. “You’re free to buy my house without having to pretend to like me anymore.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Holly.”
“Merry Christmas, Nick.”
Then I turned and walked away.
Christmas Eve Morning
If his stomach hadn’t been churning for the past nine hours, Nick might have changed his mind about leaving before breakfast once he saw the size of the cinnamon rolls Grace was baking. But the sun was up, his appetite was down, and his gut instinct hadn’t changed.
It was time to go.
“Are you sure you have to head back home before Christmas?” Grace set the pan of dough in the oven and shut the door, turning to face him with a sad smile. “Only twenty-four hours left now.” She pointed to the remains of the paper chain hanging beside the pantry door. The grandkids had been eagerly cutting it every night, and there was only a single green link left.
A countdown he could have done without.
Thomas sat at the breakfast nook table sipping a mug of coffee. He looked up with a grim expression. “He’s made up his mind, Grace. Let him go.”
Nick set down his suitcase as he hovered in the doorway. The scent of cinnamon and sugar hung heavy in the air, and his stomach growled. Was Thomas trying to kick him out the door,or was he just being supportive thinking that was what Nick wanted? He couldn’t tell. “I’m sorry. I just…I think it’s for the best.”
Grace sighed as she fiddled with a holiday oven mitt. “I don’t understand what got into Holly. Everything seemed fine and then—”
