Page 82 of All I Want For Christmas Is You

The singer cringed. “You don’t want to know.”

“Don’t tell me you put on your Daniel Boone cap and went out in the snow to forage berries and take down elk?”

Lorelei laughed. “Uh, no. I couldn’t even tell the good berries from the bad ones.”

“Well, if you need me to teach you a few cooking basics, I’d be happy to do that.”

“Thank you.” Sounding both relieved and grateful, she went back to eating. “You know, I’ve never seen my dad look at anyone the way he does you.”

“Oh.” Warmth spread through her, and she brought the skillet to the sink. “Yeah. I know we just met, but honestly, he’s the best thing that ever happened to me. It’s just…magic.”

Lorelei looked sick to her stomach. She set down her fork. “That’s what scares me, though. I thought what Landon and I had was magical, and he’d been cheating for an entire year.”

She shut off the faucet and went over to her. “Hey, this is not your fault. You’re a creative, talented woman at the top of your career. If he couldn’t handle it, if he fell for someone else, he could’ve broken up with you. He had choices, and the path he took tells you everything you need to know about his character. Not yours.”

“I’m just so angry. And that’s my next album, right there.” She tried to laugh it off. “Rage, revenge, and a lot of fuck yous. Hey, I think I’ve got my title.”

“You do what you need to do to get it all out of your body. Just know hate is often a mask for hurt, and I know for me, holding on to it kept me a victim. I only started to get better when I shifted to the truth of my feelings—that I was deeply hurt, I felt like a fool, I felt unlovable, and I was scared to death of what my life would look like without him. And guess what?”

“What?”

“My life is so much better now. If I’d stayed with him, I would never have found my voice as an artist, and I would never have found your dad. And he’s…” She sighed. “That man is one of a kind, and I’m so damn lucky to have found him.”

And she would remember that the next time she felt awkward about him taking his grandson to work or when she wasn’t sure of her place here.

All the bumps in the road were worth it if, in the end, she got to love Beau Gentry.

Margot had her list of museum and gallery visits prepared by the time Beau got home. Though still distracted by work, he insisted on giving her a tour of the town and helping her find Callie and Phinny.

Their first stop was a very cute coffee shop called Calamity Joe’s. Thanks to its Wild West theme and tasty pastries, it was incredibly popular. Margot got a vanilla chai latte, but they held off getting anything for Colt since they had an art gallery in Wild Wolff Village to visit. Apparently, it had the best cocoa and crepes, so they’d save that stop for last.

The Museum of Broken Hearts was just two blocks from the coffee shop, so they went there next. Beau stayed in the heated car with Colt.

“I’ll just be a minute.” She kissed him on the mouth. “Be right back.”

By the time she’d unhitched her seat belt and stepped out into the cold afternoon, he had Colt on his lap, playing with the steering wheel. “Take your time. We’re fine.”

“Thank you.” She could see in an instant she’d love this small town with its quirky locals and high-end shops. She’d never given much thought to outlaws and gold rush history, but Calamity was utterly charming.

She breezed right in, ready to ask if she could speak with Callie, but stopped when she found the most curious displays. Televisions hung high on the walls, and when she got up close to one, she saw they displayed a ticker tape of personal stories. She’d been so focused on the mall and her goal she hadn’t stopped to consider what this museum was actually about.

It’s about heartbreak.

In the center of the room was a tree with dangling bits of paper. Each was a handwritten note, so again, it was all personal stories. A table next to it held pencils so visitors could hang their own.

Oh, hell yes. She grabbed a pencil and wrote down hers.

I gave you everything, and you took it greedily.

And then, you left me.

Thank you for freeing me so I didn’t waste another moment with a weak, shitty man.

“Welcome to the Museum of Broken Hearts,” a woman said.

Margot turned. “Oh, hi. I was just writing my story. Well, it’s actually more like a thank you note.” She laughed. “Sorry about that. I guess I didn’t meet the brief.”

“Don’t be sorry at all. The purpose of the museum is to share our experiences so we feel less alone. Any way you want to express your heartbreak is perfectly fine.”

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