Page 32 of Mistletoe Bargain with the Billionaire

“But we’re wearing our matching Christmas sweaters then.”

His smile becomes very tight. “Yes. Of course. The matching sweaters. Silly me.”

I’m beginning to think he’s not as excited about them as I am.

???

A few hours later, Marley is shining with happiness, a married woman after her brother had the honor of walking her down the aisle. The happy couple has arrived for their reception and Nick and I are sitting down to eat some dried-out fish.

“I hope it’s not that bad,” I say, covering my snort of amusement over Nick’s description of our meal.

“Marley kept butting heads with Grams during the planning process. She insisted on using Botley’s Catering over Juno’s.”

“What was she thinking? Everyone knows Juno’s is the best caterer in Whistler.”

“I know, right?” Nick sighs, shaking his head. “I think my sister’s been away from Maine too long.” He takes a sip of his scotch and mutters, “Sometimes, I think I have, too.”

“So do I.” Even with Janey around town, I’m realizing how much I’ve missed this place and being close to my folks. “I love the West Coast but I have to wonder why I’m still there. I’m twenty-eight. If I was going to hit it big, shouldn’t I have by now?”

“There’s no definitive timeline for success.”

“I won’t be a billionaire by twenty-nine like you. Not that even the most successful singer/songwriters typically are.”

“Carol, my success is by far the exception rather than the rule. I was extremely fortunate and hit the market with something people wanted at just the right time.”

“I know and I’m glad for you but my career isn't going anywhere and maybe it’s time I accept that.”

“It will.”

“You don’t know that.” He opens his mouth to argue. “I’m barely getting by, Nick. If not for the money you gave me…” I trail off, feeling ashamed of the loan, especially considering what’s happened since we left Vegas. “Maybe coming home would be the best option for me. Why make you suffer another cross-country car trek with me and Mr. Jinglebell next week? There’s nothing for me in Vegas.”You won’t be in Vegas. My eyes have grown hot and prickly like the desert.

But Nick’s hand finds mine under the table and there’s comfort to be found in that and his sincerity when he says, “Carol, I’d drive from here to the West Coast and back again with you and your cat ten times over if it made you happy. And please, don’t worry about the money. I wanted to help out and I don’t want it back. But someday, when you do hit it big, which I fully believe you will, you can pay me back if it means that much to you.”

Oh my Christmas cookies, this man. I’m falling in love with him. I want to tell him that but how? “Nicky…” I croak, trying to find the words. I’m not quick enough.

“There you are. Finally caught you sitting still.”

We both look up at the shadow that’s fallen over us. Lydia. Nick’s hand tightens its grip around mine.

“Did you get my message earlier?” she asks Nick.

Message? What message? Nick gives a jerky nod and I feel queasy. When was this? Was it more bikini pictures? Was that what he was busy with on his laptop earlier when he was acting secretive?

“Lydia…” he says gruffly and I can’t tell what that tone means. I’m suddenly too eat up with worry that he might still be in love with this woman to think straight. And, hearing her name on his lips twists me up in a horrible manner.

“Carol, would you mind sparing Nick for a quick chat? It’s important.” She tilts her head to the side and gives him a look, the kind of look that’s unmistakable.

“Sure, I'll freshen up.” Acting paranoid won’t make us appear like a couple secure in our relationship. I need to get a grip, too. But I don’t want Nick to think I’m abandoning him. “I’ll be back before the first dance,” I promise and lightly kiss his cheek.

I’m shaky and cold inside as I greet a few familiar faces on my way to the ladies’ room but we’re fine, right? There’s some logical and non-painful explanation for the message he didn’t tell me about and Lydia’s persistent attempts to get his attention.

The next second, I’m ready to kick myself when I realize I left my bag at the table. My journal’s inside and Nick had made a good point last night about not leaving it somewhere it can be found.

I’ve started thinking about gifting the song I’m writing to him for Christmas, even if I’m admitting things in the lyrics I’m not sure I’m brave enough to speak aloud yet. I can’t afford a fancy gift but the song’s a piece of me. Would he want it?

Glancing back at our table, I see my bag is still right where I left it but Nick’s not. Neither is Lydia. I scan the ballroom just in time to catch them leaving through one of the side doors.

Together.

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