Page 21 of Love in a Christmas Storm
Lettie looked away.
Her timing had cut right into the end of Howard Nowell’s speech. Something about legacy and family and good old-fashioned values. She caught the gist. All heartstrings and hearth fires.
The crowd clapped. Cameras flashed. Beside her, her suntanned parents stood glowing like they’d just wandered in from a cruise ship.
Bethany and Abraham Noel. Founders. Visionaries. Guests of honor. Apparently too busy soaking in rounds of applause to notice the ache in their daughter’s chest.
Lettie studied them—her mother’s easy laugh, her father’s proud posture—and realized with pinpoint clarity that they were happy. Genuinely, uncomplicatedly happy.
So was Carlos.
So were all the staffers.
Lettie was the only one standing there like a broken ornament someone had forgotten to pack away.
The last time she’d felt happy—really happy—had been in a drafty cabin on a bear rug, with cocoa in her hands and Carlos at her back. She hadn’t trusted it then. Hadn’t let herself believe it. But she did now.
She wanted it back. And for the first time in a long time, she was willing to fight for it.
As the crowd clapped and her parents started forward, Lettie reached out and caught her mother’s arm.
“Wait. Can I say something?”
Her father looked amused. “This isn’t going to be one of your exposés, is it?”
Bethany slipped her arm around Lettie’s waist. “Go on, sweetheart. We’ll be right behind you.”
Lettie stepped forward into the light. The applause softened. Heads tilted. She took the mic, cleared her throat, and told herself not to flinch.
“My name is Carletta Noel. Some of you might remember me from the last time I showed up in this magazine—which, to be fair, was mostly a tantrum printed in long form.”
A ripple of polite laughter.
“I wasn’t happy about the sale. To me, it felt like the end of something. The end of a legacy. The end of a tradition. And maybe… a little like being left behind.”
Silence. Not awkward. Just listening.
“Last week, I went to Honor Valley. I went to investigate some things. Namely, a group of overly enthusiastic business owners who were pressuring other stores to decorate or risk being blackballed from the holiday economic cheer. I wasn’t there for Christmas magic. I was there to pull back the tinsel curtain and expose the machine behind it. But then I bumped into Carlos.”
Her eyes flicked to him. He hadn’t moved. Just stood there, still holding that ridiculous hopeful smile.
“I expected a corporate mascot in a candy cane tie. What I got was a man who saw through sparkle and straight into the soul of things. A man who listened. Who challenged me. Who made hot cocoa that somehow tasted like having my Christmas wish granted.”
Lettie's voice caught. She swallowed it down.
“We got snowed in. And somewhere between the snow piling on and the fire dying down, I think I lost my heart to him. I didn’t want to. But he made me remember what Christmas was really about. Not just traditions. But the people who carry them forward.”
Abraham stepped closer. Bethany took her hand.
“It’s been a long time since I met someone who cared that much. And he reminded me to care again. To look at the whole picture. To see the truth and the hope. And for a girl who’s made a career out of dissecting joy… that’s no small miracle.”
With that, Lettie handed the mic back. No dramatic flourish. No sweeping bow. Just the truth.
Carlos was already moving before she’d left the stage. Crossing the room, cutting through applause, his eyes never leaving hers. And this time, Lettie didn’t look away.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Carlos’s grin grew with every one of Lettie's words. At first, it was just relief—like watching someone step off thin ice onto solid ground. But as Lettie spoke, it bloomed into something deeper. Pride. Amazement. A low, steady warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the fireplace behind him and everything to do with the woman standing on the stage professing her feelings for him.
