Page 92 of Joy to Noel
Madison turns to face me, placing both hands on my chest.
“I might go back to painting my ring fingers in an accent color if I feel like it,” she says as she stares at her hands. She meets my eyes when she says, “I know you said you liked that attitude the first time you kissed me, but you have only yourself to blame for the turnaround. It started as my way of protesting the way Chad treated me at work. It continued as an outlet for the resentment I felt about the injustice that drove me here to Noel. But I don’t have any reason to protest anymore—I have you. I have our friends and this town. I have people I know will have my back while I figure out how I’m going to survive. I confronted Chad and laid it to rest. There’s nothing about my life to resent now.”
I take one of Madison’s hands and press a kiss to her curled fingers. “I love you, MJ. And I’ll more than have your back. I’ll burn the world down to clear a path for you if that’s what it takes. As long as we’re on the path together.”
“No burning necessary,” Madison says with a smirk. “Let’s just hope for a little Christmas magic to take pity on me.”
“Youarethe magic,” I tell her, voice serious. I trace a thumb across her lips as I say, “I still believe in you, Madison Joy.”
Her eyes glisten with moisture just before she captures my lips with hers.
Chapter thirty-eight
Madison
December
Meow.
Hamlet’s loud voice wakes me from slumber. I crack an eye open to see him perched next to me on my bed, seafoam eyes studying me expectantly.
Meow.
“What are you doing in here, Hammie?” I mumble, voice heavy with sleep.
“I thought you could use a little coffee in bed to help you wake up this morning,” Liam says from the doorway. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s after eight already. Which explains why Liam looks freshly showered and already dressed in a maroon dress shirt and black pants.
He's looking so attractive, I’d love to run my fingers through that freshly-washed hair and mess it up just a little.
“You were up so late last night, I wasn’t sure you’d be able to make it to the kitchen without caffeine,” he says, the taunting look on his face offsetting the concern in his words.
Rubbing my eyes, I sit up fully in bed, crisscrossing my legs. Hamlet makes himself at home in my lap, and I hold my hands out toward Liam. “I accept.”
I’ve been working Becky’s stand at Christmas Fest almost every day for the past three weeks, only to come home and edit a manuscript I have due back to the author before Christmas. Liam has supportedme through the long hours with pour over coffees and shoulder rubs, knowing that padding my bank account over these few weeks gives me breathing room to figure out the next step. As magical as the festival has been, I’m excited that this is the final weekend. Because I need a break.
Liam hands me a cup of steaming black coffee, then sits on the end of my bed. I raise an eyebrow. “Such a rule breaker.”
He leans in with a wicked look on his face, looking like he’s about to kiss me. I hold a hand up in front of my mouth and say, “Nope. No, sir. Let’s add ‘Must brush teeth before kissing’ to our list of roommate rules.”
With a fake pout, he sits back. “I don’t know—it seems like an awful lot of effort to get the contract amended and re-notarized when we have less than two weeks left of being roommates.”
After we travel to Nebraska so Liam can meet my family over Christmas, he’ll be moving into one of the new modern apartments. I will be moving into a rundown apartment straight out of the 70s that is being vacated by a tenant moving to thenewapartment building. The rent is cheap, so I can continue scraping by with my trickle of editing clients and whatever other odd jobs I decide to take on until MJE takes off.
“What time do you have to be at Becky’s?” Liam asks, folding his arms across his chest. The movement draws my attention to the muscles in his forearms, visible below his rolled sleeves. I’m tempted to throw my new “no kissing before toothpaste” rule out the window.
Liam is only one week into building his consulting business, Executive Action Inc., and he already signed his first two clients (and turned down two others). Apparently, word traveled fast that “The Fixer” was available for open hire, and all of corporate America is beating down the door for his time.
Do I exaggerate? Maybe. But barely.
Hehasmade good on his promise to continue wearing the suits even while working from home. And he doesn’t change until after I get home from my shifts at Becky’s and can properly appreciate his professional attire.
“I’m supposed to be at Becky’s at ten,” I say. “But I told Clara that I would stop by Emily’s office first to help her unload the new shipment of collectible mugs.”
“I tried to tell them they were going to need more to start with,” Liam says, shaking his head.
I smile as I say, “I’ll be sure to remind Clara that you told her so.” Picking up my phone, I turn off my upcoming alarm and notice an email notification. Swiping down on the notification bar, my eyes widen when I see it’s an email from Elizabeth.
Not-so-gently setting my coffee mug down on the side table, I click open the email. Scanning through the words, I gasp, “Oh my gosh!” I scan them again and repeat, “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh!”
