Page 33 of Mr. Merry Ex-Mas
I nod, holding onto the sticky. “Exactly. You get an amazing miracle either way. That’s kind of beautiful.”
She studies me for a moment. “I think you’ve got more room for surprises than you give yourself credit for.”
I shake my head, my heart giving a little jolt at the thought of a surprise. “Maybe. But let’s start with this one before we test my limits.”
Kylie grins. “Deal.”
I look around my kitchen, at all the sticky notes, and realize she’s right. Some surprises, maybe the best ones, don’t need a plan.
Could I do this?
I glance at her. “So, you really think it’s him?”
She lifts a brow. “You texted me at 8:22 in the morning with a random question.”
I snort. “I know. That kind of surprised me, too.”
“You’re not freaking out over the sticky notesnotbeing in color order.”
“They’re kind of cute–”
“And you’re only wearing his shirt.”
I slap my hands on the table. “Okay, okay, I get it!” Any other day, I would have been dressed, the counter cleaned, coffee put away, and already working on the next event. But here it is, almost nine in the morning now, and I still haven’t had my first sip.
“So, yeah. I think it’s him.”
I chew on that for a moment. “I think it’s him, too.” The words come easier than I expected.
Kylie smiles. “Then tell him. But not with a sticky.”
We both laugh, and just like that, everything inside me clicks into place. I can let go. I cantrustthis is the real deal, and I can trust him. I can learn to let the little things go, or try to, anyway. I’m not just going to reverse my whole life's thinking overnight. But for the first time? I want to, because Danny is worth living on the edge for.
22
SADIE
The ribbon in my hand is red satin, exactly three inches wide and precisely pre-measured for the table garlands. But I can’t seem to make myself tie the next bow. The auditorium is nearly done. The lights are hung, the garland is fluffed, and the tables are lined up so neatly they could pass military inspection. The kids’ crafts are drying. The centerpieces are centered. Everything should feel perfect, Sadie-approved.
So why do I feel like I’m about to throw up?
I stare blankly at the last centerpiece box and try not to think about all the things that could still go wrong. My heart's racing, and I can’t tell if it’s from the stress, the caffeine, or just the crushing pressure of trying to beenough.
“You’re glaring at that ribbon like it owes you money.” Danny’s voice breaks through my rapid thoughts.
“Pretty sure it does,” I mutter.
He walks in, holding a to-go tray full of coffee cups like he’s some kind of holiday delivery guy. “I brought bribery. Caramel latte, extra whip, just like you like it.”
I take the cup without looking at him and focus on the list on the clipboard instead. “Thanks.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then I feel him stepping closer, but not close enough to crowd me.
“You okay?” he asks, and for once, there’s no teasing tone. He’s genuinely asking.
I swallow hard, still staring at the damn ribbon. “What if it’s not enough?”
“What?”
