Page 30 of Her Christmas Fix
She reaches up to cup my face in her hands. “The last time I trusted someone, he stole from me for years.”
“I’m not him. Yeah, I overreacted with the photographers. I’m not sophisticated or Hollywood material, but?—”
“Stop.” She presses her thumb to my lips. “I know who you are, Griffin. You should know I canceled the meeting about the movie.”
My brain stumbles over her words and what they mean for her. For us. “You what?”
“The franchise part. I turned it down.” Her smile turns almost hesitant. “I’m in talks for a series based out of Vancouver. Eight episodes a season, three months of filming. Close enough that I can come home during breaks.”
“Home?”
“Here to Wild Rose Point. With you.” Pink colors her cheeks.” I want to make this work, too.”
I pull her closer, my hands spanning her waist. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I did it forme.” Her smile widens. “For both of us. I’m choosing the life I want instead of the one everyone expects.” She loops her arms around my neck. “A life that includes burnt pasta and grocery runs and fixing up old houses with a grumpy contractor who makes me happier than I’ve been in years.”
“I’m not grumpy.”
“You’re adorable when you’re grumpy.”
“I’m never adorable.”
She laughs, and it’s the best sound ever. “I want to be part of your world, Griffin. And for you to be part of mine. Not the celebrity stuff, even if there will always be some of that. I mean the real bits. I want you to meet Riva. I want morning coffeeand nights watching the sun sink below the horizon. All the in-between times.”
“I love the in-between times.” I lean down to rest my forehead against hers. “I love you, Monika. It’s probably too soon, and?—”
“I love you too,” she whispers. “Even though you squeeze the toothpaste from the middle.”
“You use all the hot water.”
“You track mud through the house.”
“You can’t cook to save your life.”
“You snore.”
“You steal all the covers. And I love that, too.”
We’re both laughing now, and I kiss her again, pouring everything I feel into it. This beautiful, talented, mesmerizing woman chose me. Chose us.
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” I murmur against her lips.
“Merry Christmas.”
Noah sticks his head into the kitchen. “If you two are done making out in my kitchen, the pancakes are getting cold.”
Monika squeezes my fingers. “Ready to face the world?”
“With you? Hell, yeah.”
We walk back into the diner hand in hand, and the room erupts in applause, and we join a group of guys at a large table, the invisible weight I’ve been carrying for far too long shifting into something lighter.
Noah brings over a plate piled high with pancakes and drops it between us. “I figure you two can share.”
Monika picks up a fork and cuts into the stack. “So what happens now?”
I steal the bite she was about to eat. “Now we figure it out as we go.”
