Page 47 of Rebel Without a Claus
I want to be enough for him.
But right now?
I don’t even know if I’m enough for me.
I meetmy mom for coffee at the café an hour later, still too stunned to even bring it up as we’re ordering our drinks and finding a table in the crowded café.
My mom's eyes narrow and her posture straightens as she gives me thatMom Look;you know the one.
That look is like a laser beam, intense and penetrating, able to cut through any distraction and get straight to the heart of the matter. “Spit it out,” she says, the corners of her mouth turning down slightly in concern.
Mrs. Garcia slides between us, handing Mom her chai tea latte and me, another coffee.
I give a weak smile as a thank you. Then sighing, I run my hand across my face before answering Mom. “I got offered a job. A really good one. As a producer and a host of a new TV show.”
Her face lights up. “Oh, sweetheart!”
“I’m not taking it.”
She pauses, confused. “You’re not?”
“It’s back in LA.”
“Ah,” Mom says. “I see. And… you no longer like living in LA?”
“I don’t know.” I stir my coffee—regular black coffee rather than my peppermint mocha because I don’t deserve it today. Not if I’m about to break Luke’s heart again.
I take a sip and grimace as Mom slides me a creamer across the table. “For the love of God, kid, add some cream. I can’t keep watching you choke down that cup of coffee.”
I take the creamer packet and tear off the paper top. “It’s just… I finally feel like I’m building something real here. With the festival. With Luke.”
She leans in. “Don’t get me wrong, sweetie. Your father and I love having you back. And if moving home is the next step in your journey, we welcome you and Cringle with open arms. But… and I mean this respectfully… a two week festival at Christmas isn’t a life. It’s merely apartof life here. A fraction of it, really. And for many of us, winning is our yearly goal; our dream. But… is that reallyyourdream, Eve?”
Tears burn in my eyes.
We both know that answer. “I want it all,” I whisper. I want the life here with the career I can find in LA. But… I don’t think that’s possible. It would take a miracle.”
Mom nods and holds my hand from across the table. “Well, lucky for you, Christmas is the time for miracles.”
CHAPTER 16
Luke
I don’t come into The Jolly Bean unless I absolutely have to.
Too many peppermint-themed decorations. Too much Mariah Carey on repeat. Too many twinkle lights. Too many women with over-fluffed scarves and sharp eyes who’ve been watching me since I was in diapers and who believe that if I’d just “open my heart,” I’d find a wife before New Year’s. And way too many sharp-eyed locals who all have an opinion about my flannel rotation and love life.
But this afternoon, I’m here.
Because Eve likes peppermint mochas. And—dammit—I like Eve.
A dangerous amount.
Hell, I might even love Eve. Not that I’m ready to admit that yet. Not to her and not even to myself.
We’ve spent every night together since the blizzard, with her even bringing Cringle out to my cabin with her. These past couple of nights have been heaven, curling around her under that quilt while snow blew sideways outside. It felt like breathing after being held under water for way too long. Like something inmy chest cracked open and finally let the light in. I’ve spent years layering concrete over that part of myself—ignoring it, burying it, pretending I didn’t still look for her in every Christmas song or glittery red scarf.
But now she’s here. She’s back. And everything I thought I knew about keeping my distance is suddenly unraveling like tinsel in a windstorm.
