Page 61 of Meet Me at the Christmas Cottage
“What happened to us, Jonah?” Bree asked, looking up through her long, obviously fake eyelashes.
Jonah sighed. Apparently, they were going to havethisconversation, right here on the dance floor. “You said you didn’t want to be married to a military guy and weren’t willing to wait anymore, you didn’t want a big family, and you wanted to travel the world.” Jonah checked off all the reasons she had given him on his fingers. “So I let you go.”
“Right. Yeah. I did.” Bree nodded and licked her lips. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking over the last few years, and I think I was just scared. I think I would be okay with settling down now, having our big family like we planned. I miss what we had. Really miss it, Jonah.”
Jonah scanned the crowd, only half listening to what Bree was going on about. But when she got quiet, he looked back at her. He saw determination in her eyes, and his stomach clenched.
“Jonah, I want to get back together.”
“Wh-what?” Jonah stammered.
“I wantusto get back together,” Bree repeated.
Jonah blinked. Nothing could have prepared him for that. Six weeks ago, he might have fallen for it. If she had told him last week, he probably would have, hook, line, and sinker, and gotten back into a relationship with Bree. But now…
“We were so good together, Jonah. I was young and stupid.” Bree huffed out a sigh. “I’m making a mess of this. Come here.”
She stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her hands around Jonah’s neck, tugging his head toward hers.
ChapterFifteen
She was avoiding Jonah, and she hated it.
Ever since she’d decided he’d be better off without her, she’d begun rebuilding the protective wall around her heart. He needed to be a father. She wanted that for him. But she couldn’t give that to him.
Dani had given her the perfect out when she’d asked to introduce Bronte to a fan that had come over on the ferry. When the introductions had finished, Dani had announced the dance floor was open. As couples started pairing off and flooding the open space, Jordi had pulled Bronte and Dani aside, telling them something about one of the old men trying to drive the snowplow around town and another one chasing after him in a golf cart.
If Bronte were smart, she’d find someone to take her home. Then she’d pack her bags and get off the island before anyone else knew she was leaving.
Liam stole Dani for a dance right before a tall, dark, and handsome stranger asked Jordi for a spin, leaving Bronte alone with her thoughts. A dangerous place to be.
“What are you doing over here? Why aren’t you out on the dance floor with Jonah? He’s looking really sharp tonight.” Martha stood beside Bronte, her hands on her hips.
“Hi, Martha. What did you think of the dinner?” Bronte asked, a limp attempt to change the subject.
“The dinner was fine.” Martha brushed at her black velvet dress. “I could have done a better job, but I appreciate why Dani had everything catered in, and”—she pointed a finger a Bronte—“if you tell her I said so, I’ll deny every word.”
Bronte dragged two fingers over her lips as if she were zipping them tight and then threw away the invisible key. “My lips are sealed.”
“But really, why are you hiding here? Why aren’t you out there?” Martha motioned toward the dance floor.
Tears stung the backs of Bronte’s eyes. She promised herself she wasn’t going to cry about this. She had cried enough over relationships when it didn’t work out with Brad. Why had she thought, hoped, anything would be different with Jonah? Heaving in a deep breath, and successfully keeping the tears at bay, Bronte responded, “I just needed a moment.”
The look Martha gave her let her know she wasn’t buying the excuse, but they both turned and watched everyone else pairing off and joining the others on the dance floor.
As Bronte’s eyes scanned the crowd, they couldn’t help but be drawn to Jonah’s tall form. Emotions twisted in her belly as she watched him talking to a girl—who, from the looks of it, couldn’t keep from touching him.
She frowned. The woman looked familiar, but Bronte couldn’t remember where she knew her from. She didn’t think she’d seen her around on the island the past few days, but everyone here was new, so maybe she had.
“Martha, who’s that with Jonah?” She shouldn’t feel the pang of jealousy coursing through her. Isn’t this what she wanted? Jonah with someone else.
“What? Oh, her.”
The way Martha saidhermade Bronte’s stomach drop. “Who is she?”
There was steel in Martha’s eyes. “That is Aubrey.” Martha said the name it as if it were a bad word. “Or Bree, as she’s known around here.”
Aubrey. The girl from the ferry. She remembered now how Aubrey had said something about coming over and spending the holidays with her grandmother. Never in a million years would Bronte have thought Aubrey from the ferry and Jonah’s Bree were the same person. She wanted to hate her, but she’d been so nice on the ferry.
