Page 97 of The Holiday Ex-Files

I wondered if I could love like that again. Or allow myself to be loved again without feeling insecure. Sure, I loved Noah, but it was like how I loved Mara. Not to say I didn’t have romantic feelings for Noah. Believe me, I did. But I still hadn’t given myself permission to fall in love with him. I knew it wouldn’t take much, and that scared me.

I carefully shifted to reach my laptop, sitting next to me on my bed. Poor Neville was hiding from me. I had let out such a deafening scream when I’d ripped the wax off that he’d run for cover under my bed, where he was probably still sitting and shaking. I couldn’t blame him; I didn’t even know I could scream in such a guttural way. The directions recommended not drinking before you tortured yourself in such a manner, but I’m going to say, it might not be bad to have a glass or two of wine before giving it a try.

While I pulled up my editing software, Noah called. My heart did a few flips just seeing his name on the screen. I put him on speaker so I could continually shift the ice bag. I’m not lying when I said I felt as if I were on fire.

“Hello.”

“Hey, Cams, I just called to check on you. Sounds like you’re having some issues.” He cleared his throat.

“You could say that.” I laughed. He must have read my post.

“I’m assuming there’s nothing I can do for you.”

I could hear in his voice that he was begging me to say no on this one. “I’m good, but thank you for checking in on me. How was your day?”

“Busy between work and the boys. I miss you.” The longing in his voice was apparent.

“You know, I was just thinking that I miss you too.”

“This is good. Progress.”

“Yeah. I’m making some progress. It felt really good to get behind the camera this week and not have my subject be a gourmet kitchen. Speaking of kitchens, when will I get a working sink again?”

“My guys are on it, I promise.”

“Uh-huh. You know, you could do the work.”

He paused. “Cams, you don’t know how much I want to, but I can’t promise that I’ll keep my hands off you, and I don’t want us to start out that way. I want you to want me for all the right reasons, and I want you to know that I want you for all the right reasons.”

“Are you saying I can’t keep my hands to myself?” I was faux offended.

I told you, you were handsy.

Oh please, you were begging me to be.

Miss Sparkly sighed long and hard thinking about the wonders of Noah.

“Judging by Thanksgiving, I’m going to say yes.” He playfully laughed.

He was probably right. And sweet. I loved that he was wonderful and wise enough to know how easily a physical relationship could, at the very least, complicate it all.

“Okay, fine,” I pouted.

“Well . . . if you can control yourself, I was thinking that since tomorrow night is Aspen Lake’s annual Christmas tree lighting and Christmas parade, you might want to run into me and the boys there. I promise not to get you in trouble with your fans.”

“Oh.” That came out high-pitched. “My parents and siblings asked me to go with them, but I’m still thinking about it. I don’t want to go totally Christmas crazy.”

“What frightens you there?” He could read me so well it was scary.

I swallowed hard before whispering, “Ben told me he loved me for the first time there.” I remembered like it was yesterday. As soon as the lights had come to life on the fifty-foot tree, Ben had wrapped his arms around me from behind and whispered in my ear, “You are magical like this tree. I love you.”

“I could see where that would be hard. But . . . if it makes you feel better, I loved you on that night and I still do.”

Tears pooled in my eyes. A rush of warmth encompassed me and not because my lady parts were on fire. “Noah, you may not think you can heal me, but you are part of the healing process. Thank you.” Those were the only words I could think of to convey my gratitude to him, though they were wholly inadequate.

“So does that mean I will see you tomorrow night?”

“Yes,” I found myself saying, without a second thought.

“I won’t be offended if you pretend like you don’t know me,” he teased.

“Noah, I wouldn’t do that to you. I’m sorry I ever did.”

“You give me hope, Cams,” his voice was full of emotion, “that my Christmas wish will come true.”

“What do you wish for?”

“The same thing I’ve been wishing for ten years—you. Good night.”

“Good night,” I whispered, not wanting to say goodbye, but knowing it was probably for the best. Besides, he’d ended it on a beautiful note, one I would keep singing into my dreams that night.

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