Page 42 of Mistletoe Bargain with the Billionaire

Three long beats of silence on both ends filled with all the things I can’t bring myself to say aloud:why would you go to this trouble for me? It’s your song, too. It always was. I love you.

Instead, I say, “Thank you, this really means a lot to me that you’re even trying to help.”

“We’ll have quite a battle on our hands. But I promise you, Carol, I’ll stick with you through it.”

Tears fill my eyes. “You will?”

“Sure. What are friends for?”

Friends. He’ll always be my friend. So, why am I silently crying?

“Are you really staying in Whistler?” he asks next, a heaviness in his tone I feel in my soul.

“I don’t know.” I honestly don’t. I want to be with Nick but I’m scared. And, if I can’t have him, home seems best. “Guess I’m flying by the seat of my pants again.”

“Carol, I didn’t really mean to-”

“I’m going to go have some of Mom’s cinnamon rolls for now.” For fruitcake’s sake, why did I say that?

“Oh. Okay. I hope you enjoy them.” Is that wistfulness in his voice for me or for cinnamon rolls?

We’re so mature sounding as we hang up, like business associates who’ve decided to part ways.

Except I feel like my whole world is crumbling to dust.

I snatch my cat off the sweater he’s busily kneading his paws on and cuddle him close for the comfort I crave. It’s not the strong arms I’m missing but it will have to do. Mr. Jinglebell disagrees and yowls in protest.

???

Over the hedge, I can see Nick’s house beyond the trees… or what was once his house. The holiday lights are twinkling brightly, reflecting on the snow-covered lawn. Mrs. Frost has always thrown a big Christmas Eve party for her friends and neighbors each year and turning eighty hasn’t slowed her down yet.

As kids, Nick and I would pilfer treats and avoid the boring grownup talk. He won’t have that luxury tonight.

“I was supposed to be there with him,” I quietly tell Mr. Jinglebell. IwishI was at his side tonight, even if it meant enduring prattle from Mrs. Frost’s stuffy bridge club ladies.

We’d talked it over this afternoon, my parents encouraging me to follow my heart as always.“Whatever makes you comfortable, Carol. We can all stay home tonight if you prefer.”

“No, she’s been your neighbor for decades and I won’t have you missing a Christmas Eve tradition because of me.”

So, they’d left a few minutes ago, promising they wouldn’t stay more than a couple of hours and to call if I decided I wanted to come join them. How can I? Nick will be there.

You could give him his money back, show him you can act like a responsible, mature adult. It’s the least you can do.

That’s true. He’s fighting for me against Travis. Yeah, Nick’s a billionaire and admired throughout the tech field but he’s not in the music industry and I doubt he’s ever issued nefarious threats to his underlings, less successful competitors or ex-lovers like Travis did.

Whatever Nick did to get a lawsuit and potential criminal charges rolling on my behalf, we’re in for a fight. Just thinking about it makes me want to hide under my covers but I’ve done enough of that. For better or worse, knowing Nick’s in my corner in this might give me the strength required to finally go toe to toe and reclaim what was stolen from me.

My phone pings with a text. My heart starts thumping wildly, hoping it’s Nick asking me where I am and won’t I come over.

Instead, it’s Tysha from the Frosties:Hey, we’re going to start caroling soon if you still want to join us on the town square.

Despite the heartache of the past twenty-four hours, I feel a smile spreading across my face. I would love to go caroling with those kids tonight. Singing usually lifts my spirits, even in the darkest times. (We’ll ignore what happened that one time at the talent show, okay? These areChristmascarols.)

I text my reply and give Mr. Jinglebell a kiss on the head. “Don’t wait up. I’m going caroling. And then… I think I’ll stop by Mrs. Frost’s party. I’ll tell Nick hello from you.”

He was my best friend all through childhood but we never got to say goodbye when his dad took him away. No matter how he feels about our mistletoe bargain at this point, I won’t let Nick go without a real goodbye this time.

As I slip on my Christmas sweater, my kitty curls up in the warm spot I’ve just vacated and nestles down for yet another long winter’s nap.

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