Page 41 of Mistletoe Bargain with the Billionaire

23-Carol

The house smells like Christmas, like fir trees and cinnamon, my favorite time of the year. Faintly, I hear music coming from the kitchen. Ordinarily, I’d be down there singing along and trying my best to help my mom bake or watching favorite holiday movies with Dad.

Not today.

“It was all fake anyway.”

It wasn’t. Not to me. I wish I hadn’t said it, wish I’d given him a chance to finish what he’d been saying. We were both angry so I’m not sure but there’s part of me that’s wondering if I didn’t majorly screw things up at that point.

You’ll never know now.

As I said I would, I cleared my cat and luggage out of the suite last night. I have no idea where he went after I got my parents to leave with me but I never saw him at the Partridge and the Pear and, when I turned in my key, I told the desk clerk that Mr. Frost would still be staying there. I’d like to say I don’t care where he was but that would be a lie. Wonder if Lydia’s still in town?

I told my folks the truth last night about me and Nick and then I asked Dad to drive me back to Janey and Jim’s house. It wasn’t an easy thing to do but she doesn’t deserve a free payday off of Nick for my goof up.

Between Dad and Jim’s glowering, Janey had caved and given back Nick’s money. Unaware of the tension between the adults, Adeline had sweetly handed me a picture of a grumpy cat wearing a Christmas sweater before I left. I didn’t know how to tell her I wouldn’t be seeing Nick later to give it to him.

I’ll give him the money and the picture eventually. Maybe I’ll mail it to his company. No need for an awkward meeting. A clean break, that’s it.

I’m not going back to Vegas. There’s nothing for me there and I realize that, in spite of all the things I’ve gone through the past few years, this is the one I can’t bear the thoughts of handling on my own. If I can’t have the man I love for real, I need my family.

“That includes you,” I tell the kitty snuggled in my lap late the following morning.

One cool blue eye opens and I see he’s not any more pleased by his new surroundings than he had been last night. But, Mr. Jinglebell will get used to Mom and Dad’s. Eventually, he’ll stop looking for the person who isn’t here. So will I.

“I made cinnamon rolls,” my mom says, peering around the bedroom door. This woman knows what heals the soul.

“Thank you.”

“What’s that?” she asks, noting the small gift box in front of me, freshly wrapped.

“Something for you.” I wipe away pesky tears and give her a strained smile. It’s the cornfield snow globe. I’d thought maybe I could say it was from Nick and me both, like couples do. But we’re not a couple and he won’t be here when she opens it tomorrow morning.

Mom comes over and I can’t resist. Even with Mr. Jinglebell’s hiss of protest, I have myself a merry little Christmas Eve morning cry in her arms.

The cat jumps off my lap and struts over to where I’ve been unpacking my suitcase. Once my eyes are dry again, Mom goes to see what he’s decided to make into his new bed. “Oh Carol, this is the ugliest Christmas sweater I’ve ever seen,” she says, unable to hold back a snorted chuckle.

“I know, right?” They really are atrocious. The thought of Nick wearing it to his straight-laced grandmother’s house for Christmas Eve had given me some fiendish amusement. I don’t feel like laughing today.

“You got one for the cat, too?”

“Yeah.” My mother looks ready to collapse on the bed with laughter. “There’s one for Nick as well but… I left it with him.” I’m not sure why. He won’t wear it now. He said so himself.

That wasn’t all I left behind at the suite. One song was stolen from me and the other I’m giving away but both were written for him. He should have it.

“I’m sorry. You two really seemed… never mind.” She lovingly brushes my hair back and reminds me the cinnamon rolls are waiting for whenever I’m ready to come down.

The moment she leaves, my phone comes alive with text and email notifications. The text is from Nick:How would you like to go home? Plane, train, or automobile, I’ll make the arrangements for you and the cat.

I grimace at the polite but distant offer and tap out my response.I’m already home and won’t be leaving but thanks anyway.

Then, I look at the email. There’s two, one from some California attorney’s office and one from… Travis?

I read through them twice, three times. I’m shocked, horrified, angry and overwhelmed at first. Then, I feel something I haven’t with regards to ‘Mistletoe Muse’ in a long while. I feelhope. And, I feel something else very strongly as I realize who’s behind this.

“What did you do?” I ask breathlessly when Nick picks up his phone a few minutes later.

His voice is extra gruff this morning but it’s also full of tenderness. “It’s your song, Carol. You deserve the credit for it. And, I hate bullies.”

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