Page 105 of The Unfinished Line

“Just walking out the door. We’ve got a flight to Chicago. Anyhow—Christmas? Where do you want to spend it?”

Dillon hadn’t gotten that far. Her only focus had been on knowing she would see Kam the day after her London premiere. Exactly a week away. The holiday hadn’t yet made it to her radar.

“Wherever you are.”

“I was wondering,” Kam was momentarily muffled by the sound of horns and shouting voices, along with the threatening command of a man warning someone to stand back, followed bythe slamming of a door. “Sorry,” Kam was breathless, “there was a crowd in front ofABC. We just got to the car. Anyhow, I was wondering—is a sweater warm enough for Wales in winter, or would I need to pack my Greenland parka?”

“Wales?” Dillon was surprised. “What about the Hallwells?”

“I understand if that’s your first choice,” Kam quipped, “but I was thinking perhaps we could go somewhere that didn’t involve steak tartare.”

Dillon closed her eyes. For one hundred eighty-three days she’d been counting down the hours until they’d be together again. She’d never known she could miss someone so badly. Need someone so much.

“Do you like roast potatoes and parsnips?”

“Let’s see,” Kam hummed, “you mean more than Darlene’s cuisses de grenouille? I could probably survive.”

“What about making taffy?”

“I’m a first-class taste tester. I wouldn’t want to put anyone to shame with my epic cooking skills.”

“We couldn’t have that,” Dillon smiled, well aware Kam’s kitchen prowess involved ordering take-out. “It’s cold and wet and cloudy.”

“Not to brag, but I survived Greenland.”

“Fair enough. Then last question: how do you feel about going door-to-door in a song rhyming war wearing a horse skull on your head?”

“I—wait, what?”

Dillon laughed. “Come on, it’s a Welsh tradition!” She didn’t tell her the wassailing folk custom had mostly died out in the twentieth century. Better to let her stew on that image for a while.

“I…” Kam hesitated. “Sure, why not? I’m game.”

“Are you really wanting to come to Wales?” Dillon was serious again. “You know you don’t have to—I’ll go wherever you are. Even if it’s with the Hallwells.”

“I want you to bring me home with you for Christmas. Do you think your mom would be okay with that?”

Not once in their three years together had Kelsey gone with Dillon to Wales. They’d spent holidays separate—Kelsey with her family, and Dillon with hers.

“She’ll love you, Kam-Kameryn.”

“It’s settled, then.” Kam paused. “There is one more thing, however.”

The sudden nervousness in her voice worried Dillon.

“It’s about London,” Kam continued. “I’d like you there.”

“Smashing coincidence,” Dillon tried to tease, despite having an uncomfortable feeling she knew what direction this was heading. “I just so happen to live here.”

“I want you to come to my premiere.”

Quiet, Dillon stood from her sofa, crossing to look out the window at the London Eye. The city was lit for Christmas, brimming with the bokeh of holiday lights. She ran a fingertip along the frosted glass, tracing the river’s outline.

“Is that a good idea?”

“Probably not. But do this for me—please? It’s going to be one of the most monumental nights of my life. Sam could go with you. There would be nothing unusual about her attending the premiere. And you’re her best friend—no one will think twice.” Dillon could hear her swallow on the other end of the line. “Please, Dillon. I just want to know you’re there.”

Beads of condensation trickled down the windowpane, distorting the starbursts of light.

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