Page 3 of Catching the Mistletoe

“Fair enough,” Genevieve smiled, putting her phone back in her pocket. “But if you decide to go for it, I know you’ll be amazing.”

We sat quietly for a moment as my mind worked through the idea.

“You’re already giving it a good hard think, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Okay. Let’s work through it.”

I huffed out a breath and rubbed at my chest. My heart was thudding with excitement, and it was all I could do to sit still. The urge to get up and pace the room was almost overwhelming.

“What worries you the most? Or the biggest block?”

“Mom and Dad,” I replied instantly.

Genevieve sighed. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. You know how they are. They mean well, but they’d probably have a million questions and concerns. Is it safe? What about my health? What if I get sick again? Have an accident? Or, like, what if I get hungry, or cold? As if I’m not a grown ass adult, more than capable of meeting my own needs. It’s exhausting just thinking about it.”

Genevieve nodded in understanding. “They’ve been through a lot, Bella. We all have. They just want to make sure you’re okay. But you’re not that sick little girl anymore. You’re strong, and you’re capable. You have to live your life, and they have to learn to let you.”

“I guess. But you know, it’s easy to say, harder to do.”

“I get it. Okay, second biggest block or objection?”

“I obviously can’t do it by myself. The original intention was you and Noah together. So who would come with me?”

Genevieve chewed her bottom lip, her gaze unreadable as she looked at me. Then she dropped the bomb. “Mack.”

“Fuck no!” My hand shot out, as if to physically deflect the idea. My reaction was instant, straight from my gut.

“Hey, don’t be like that. Mack’s great.”

“I’m sure he is. But how the fuck would I know, considering he never speaks to me? Can barely stand to look at me half the time.”

Genevieve sighed. She’d tried to get to the bottom of this weird situation between me and Mack for months. But now was not the time for that. “I guess. And hey, it’s not like being in the limelight is something he’d want to do.”

“Exactly.”

Noah had been the public face of the whole project, except for that one interview Mack had done during the competition. The same interview that had garnered them twenty million dollars in donations. Seemed like he could turn on the charm when he wanted to. Okay, now I was being a bitch again.

“Any other objections, concerns, or caveats?”

“If Mom and Dad feel okay about it and they can find someone decent to pair with me, then no, I have no objections. Quite the opposite, actually. I fucking love the idea.”

“Me too! But I will say this. We should keep it on the down low for now. I mean, we don’t even know if they’ll go for it. The last thing we need is for Mom to get all het up about it for it to come to nothing.”

“You’re right.”

Was I really considering this? A cross-country Christmas caravan, away from my family? I mean, yeah, there would be a crew, but it would be my face plastering the TV screens. My name associated with the project. And what would Mom and Dad say? They’d been overprotective ever since my diagnosis, and they had every reason to be. But sometimes their concern felt more like a cage, keeping me tethered to a life that was safe but unfulfilling.

It was a lot, knowing that saying ‘yes’ would mean stepping out of everyone’s comfort zones, not just my own. But wasn’t that what life was about? Taking risks, seizing opportunities, and hoping for the best?

As I sat there, contemplating the whirlwind my life could become, I recognized that this was something I really needed to do. To show myself, and everyone else, that Arabella Snow was more than her past, more than her illness. I was a woman capable of making her own choices, and maybe it was high time I started doing just that.

Mom walked in just then, dragging my mind away from the confusing jumble of thoughts. “Girls! Here you are!” I loved how Mom did this—walked into a room and greeted everyone like they were her most favorite people in the whole universe. It made me smile. As did her messy up do, with strands of graying, auburn hair framing her face. And the bit of dirt under her fingernails, showing that she’d been out in the garden.

“Hey, Mom.”

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