Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

CHRISTMAS EVE

Jack

I ’m nervous as I slip into the Candlelight Chapel. The place is packed, as I’d been warned it would be. I scan the sea of heads until I spot Holly. Her long blonde hair is braided into some sort of complicated design and piled on the top of her head. Her neck is bowed as if she’s reading something or looking at her lap. The candlelight catches the gold in her hair, and my chest tightens. I stride down the aisle and slide into the pew next to her.

She turns and her blue eyes light up. “You made it.”

“I told you I would.”

She nods. We haven’t seen each other since the day before Banned Book Bingo. That clip she filmed went viral, like really viral. So the library was packed with book influencers and legal commentators during the event. It was great for the town and even better for the cause. But it meant she and I never connected that day.

And then, the board asked me to fly straight back to Florida. Sam had circulated the video and the clip of Noelle praising my efforts to some library committee on C-SPAN. Who knew anybody watches C-SPAN? Apparently the members of the board of the Samuel Companies are big fans, because they voted overwhelmingly to give us control of the company effective January 1.

The lone no-confidence vote was Roger, no surprise there. But we’ve already hammered out a deal to buy him out as soon as the trust lapses. He’ll be out of our lives and Mom’s legacy in a week.

All good news, but it’s kept me in Florida. Holly and I have texted and video chatted. She declared it the modern equivalent of the epistolary themes in Austen’s Emma , but as far as I’m concerned it’s a poor substitute for being able to reach out and touch her. This thought reminds me that I can do exactly that, so I do. I rub my thumb across the underside of her wrist and she sears me with a look that makes a bead of sweat run down my brow. Even in the sacred quiet of the crowded chapel, surrounded by flickering candles and soft, instrumental carols, the electricity between us crackles. She wipes the sweat away with a knowing look.

The service is probably beautiful. I wouldn’t know. Finally, after two and a half eternities, we’re released into the snowy, starry night. I keep my head down and dodge the well-wishers. Those I can’t completely avoid, get a curt greeting.

“Jack, you’re being rude,” she whispers.

“Wrong,” I whisper back. “All these people who are interfering with my most important goal are being rude.”

“And what goal is that?”

I press my mouth against her ear and murmur my plans for the evening. She blushes the deepest red, so red she matches her coat. Then she grabs my hand and starts to run, pulling me along behind her.

“What are you waiting for?” she cries over her shoulder.

We race into the cottage, breathless and laughing while we take off our wet shoes. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold. I brush melting snow from her neck and she shivers. Then the air shifts and our laughter fades. She looks up. I follow her gaze. Someone has hung a sprig of mistletoe over the doorway. I lean down and kiss her hard. Her lips part and the smallest moan escapes.

I’m done waiting. I scoop her up and carry her across the room to the bedroom. I kick the door closed behind me and lay her down on the bed with supreme care, drinking in the sight of her. Her hair is coming loose from its elaborate braid, and her eyes shine in the dim light. At long last, we’re here, in the king bed where I’ve slept, where she’s slept, but where we’ve never slept together.

Tonight, I can’t promise that anyone will be sleeping.