Page 112 of Merry Me
My jaw tightened. “Is that the same number that’s been calling you?”
She nodded, slipping the phone back into her pocket. “Yeah.”
“You gonna call it back?”
The growl in my voice surprised even me.
She smirked at that, a teasing glint lighting her eyes as she leaned back in the sleigh. “Please. I already have one overly devoted stalker,” she said, shooting me a playful look. “I don’t need to add another.” I watched as she blocked the number.
Despite myself, I barked out a laugh. “You think I’m a stalker?”
“I think you flew across the country to crash a wedding and win me back,” she said with a wink. “If that’s not stalker behavior, it’s definitely stalker-adjacent.”
“Yeah,” I said, leaning a little closer, eyes laser-beamed on hers. “But I’m the charming kind.”
She grinned, the edges of her smile softening just enough to make my chest ache. “You’re not a bad stalker. You haven’t locked me in a basement yet, I’ll give you that.”
“Low bar,” I said, deadpan. “But I appreciate the positive feedback.”
She laughed, and I loved how it was easy…light. The kind of sound that threaded right through me. And she didn’t try to immediately put up walls…so that was a plus.
Natalie brushed a clump of snow off her knee like we weren’t still adjusting to this new-old thing between us. Like we hadn’t already saidyes—to the risk, to the mess, to each other—and now we were just learning how to breathe inside that choice.
The silence stretched again, deeper now. The sleigh driftedforward under the moonlight, and I glanced over, watching her face in the silver glow.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked quietly, unwilling to break the moment but needing her voice, needing her thoughts.
She hesitated, and I felt her shift beside me. Then she looked at me from beneath her lashes, her voice low. “Just wondering if this is weird for you. Being back here after living in Hollywood. We haven’t talked about it.”
I glanced ahead, guiding the sleigh gently around a curve in the trail. The reins were loose in my hands, but my grip on reality—on her presence next to me—was anything but.
“It’s different,” I said honestly. “But this…this feels nice. Normal.”
She gave a small nod, her hand tugging her scarf a little tighter around her neck like she was tucking herself into a memory. “Do you ever miss it? Normal, I mean.”
I didn’t answer right away. Not because I didn’t know, but because I wanted to answer it right—for her. For me.
“Honestly?” I said after a beat, keeping my voice low, the reins loose in my hands. “Yeah. Hollywood’s…a lot. It’s loud and glittery and exhausting in ways I didn’t expect. And under all of that—it gets lonely.”
Natalie didn’t say anything right away, just looked over at me, her brows gently furrowed like she already knew where I was going. Because she did. We’d already been peeling back the layers in our conversations this week, one exchange at a time.
“I got caught up in what everyone else wanted me to be. What theythoughtI was. There were moments I didn’t even recognize myself. But not once…” I paused, my chest tightening. “Not once did I stop missing you.”
She reached for my hand, and her fingers slipped between mine—easy, instinctive.
Like it was nothing. Like it was everything.
My heart thudded once, hard. Because she was finally touching me like…she’d never stopped.
It was a sign I’d been waiting for.
“You told me that already,” she said softly, her voice brushing against me like snowfall. “But I don’t mind hearing it again.”
That smile she gave me—it did something to me. Knocked the air out of my lungs. Because she wasn’t looking at me like Easton Maddox, movie star. She was looking at me like the boy she used to know, and the man she’d decided to choose again.
“I meant it,” I said. “All of it. The movies, the premieres, the awards—none of it ever mattered if I didn’t have you to share it with.”
She gave me a long, thoughtful look. “You don’t have to keep proving it, you know.”
