Nine

Her heart sank. Was this one small thing going to tear them apart, just when they'd finally found each other?

—Hailey Fairchild, What the Heart Needs

"Let's get you home," says Carwyn.

Home to my parents' house, or home to New York?

Have I just blown it big-time?

No, I can't have. Real heroes keep trying until they win their woman.

He doesn't say anything on the ride home, and I have no idea what to say. On the front porch, he kisses me again, but it doesn't

feel the same as those other kisses.

***

"Happy New Year! Did you have a great New Year's Eve?" Mom asks when I drag myself into the kitchen the next morning.

I'm glad it's only the two of us. I'd hate to announce to the whole family that I'm about to mess up my love life again. I

shake my head.

Her smile falls. "What happened?"

"I don't think this is going to work," I say, and my lower lip begins to wobble.

"Why not?"

"He can't leave here."

"So you'd come back to Cascade. That sounds like a good thing." Mom studies me. "Why wouldn't you?"

I hate to say it. It sounds foolish, but it's how I feel. "I don't belong here anymore."

Her brows furrow. "Why on earth not? I don't understand."

How do I explain something I'm having a hard time explaining to myself? "I've moved on. I belong in New York."

"Why?"

"Because my publisher is there. My friends, my life."

"You can have a life here too," Mom says gently.

"I have no past in New York."

Actually, I do. I have three love fails.

I think of how my stories always end. The hero gives up everything for the heroine.

But none of those heroes have a sick father. Carwyn is needed here.

Sam ambles into the kitchen and makes himself some coffee. "Why are you two looking so serious?"

"Your sister's trying to sort out her life," Mom says.

"Trying to figure out how to spend your next big royalty check?" he teases.

He knows that's still a long way down the road. If ever. Because now my writer's block is back, and I can't even think about

the book, and my editor is going to kill me, and I'll never get another book contract again. Then I'll be a love loser and

a career loser. A life loser.

I haven't said anything, so he pushes. "Something go wrong with Carwyn? I thought you were into each other."

"We are," I say. "But he's here, and I'm in New York."

Sam holds out both hands and gives his head a little shake. "So move."

"I don't want to live in Cascade." That sounds so... snobby. Ungrateful. Immature.

He frowns. "What's wrong with Cascade? We're all here. You'd pick a big impersonal city over the town where your family and friends live?"

"I don't have any friends in Cascade," I snap.

"You have Billie," he suggests.

Billie is fine, but it's Scarlet I'm friends with.

"And how about Eloise at the bookstore?" puts in Mom. "You could start a writers' group and meet there."

Sam downs half his coffee and shakes his head. "I guess you're not that into him."

"I am!" I protest.

"No, you're not. Otherwise, you'd be willing to do whatever needs to be done to make things work. He's got real reasons for

staying put. You don't, sis."

I don't know what to say to that, so I say nothing.

A moment later, Dad's in the kitchen. "What's for breakfast? I'm starving."

"Waffles," Mom says and gets busy with her waffle iron.

I set the table and Sam gets more coffee.

"Everybody sure is quiet," Dad observes.

Yes, we are. Because now it feels like there's nothing left to say.

Until Mom and Dad inform us that come summer, they are going to take a world cruise. Sam will be in charge of the store while

Dad's gone.

"About time you guys did something interesting," he says to Dad.

"Our entire life has been interesting," Mom says firmly.

Dad nods. "Yep. Good friends, good times. Good kids."

"The best place to find gold is in your own backyard," Mom says and looks at me. I don't think she's talking about New York

City.

Carwyn comes over and hangs out. Holds my hand while we all watch the Rose Bowl. Then his parents call, and he has to take off. His dad has had a fall. "Nothing serious, but I'd better go," he says. And that's that.

***

He texts me the next day when I'm at the airport, waiting for my flight.

Carwyn: Gonna miss you.

I sigh. Is this what our future will be, lots of miss you texts? I'm never at a loss for words... until now.

Five minutes pass and another text comes in.

Carwyn : ????

Okay, I can't keep ignoring him.

Hailey: How's this going to work?

There are the little bubbles. He already has an answer. Then come the words.

Carwyn: I don't know.

Not what I was hoping to see.

More words follow.

Carwyn: But let's not give up. We've started something great. Let's not be quitters.

I thumb my brilliant response.

Hailey: OK.

I'd planned to finish my book on the flight home. Instead, I stare at the computer screen, and the flashing cursor mocks me.

Back at the apartment I have a therapy session with Ramona. We go over the whole trip and how I felt about every moment of

it, and we talk about where my relationship with Carwyn is now probably not going.

"You did survive Gwendolyn," she points out. "And unlike my family, yours is together and great and you love them."

"I do."

"You had a good time. And most important, you started a romance for the ages. This one isn't a mistletoe fail. Unless you

make it one," she adds. "Do you love him?"

"I do."

When I was young, I loved the idea of Carwyn, the unattainable boy next door. Then I loved the one-dimensional, hunky, fantasy

version of him. But now I love the real him—the kindhearted, trustworthy man whose kisses promise a life of commitment and

contentment. It's the best version of all three.

"Then, really, what's holding you back? It's not New York and your life here. Don't give me that. It's such a bunch of beans."

I press my lips together, rub them back and forth, searching for the reason behind the excuses. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do," she says.

Yes, I do, really.

"Say it."

"I'm afraid," I blurt. "I'm afraid this will end up being just another mistletoe failure. I'll give up my life here and go

home, and it will all crumble before my very eyes."

She scoots over on the couch and puts an arm around my shoulders. "Don't be a goof. Your past is, well, your past. You got a mistletoe do-over this year. Take advantage of it. You deserve the kind of happy ending you write."

I bite my lip. A tear is trickling down my cheek. Do I?

Ramona has been reading my mind. "You have the power to write your happy ending. Think Nike and just do it," she adds with

a grin.

Just do it.

I take a deep breath and nod. Can't bring myself to say I will, but maybe I can move in that direction.

She runs a hand through her long dark hair. "I'm pooped. I'm going to bed." She gets up and starts for the hallway. But she

turns before she vanishes into the bedroom. "First, finish that book. Let your heroine tell you what to do."

I frown at her retreating back. Let my heroine tell me what to do. Stupid. My characters never talk to me. I talk to them.

I'm the one in charge.

Maybe that's why this last book hasn't been going so well. I'm in no condition to be in charge of anyone's love life, even

if she's fictional.

I decide to talk to my heroine, just like Ramona suggested.

"What should I do, Augusta?" I whisper.

Get me out of this forest, she demands. I need to find Henry and claim my happy ending.

Claim my happy ending. There it is—what both of us need.

I do get Augusta out of that forest. She finds a horse and rides all night, dodging bandits and wolves and things that go

bump in the night. By dawn she has found Henry, and they've vowed never to be parted.

"I know now that love is worth any risk," Augusta says as Henry holds her in his arms. He's looking at her, but I can feel

her looking over his shoulder at me.

I email the manuscript to my editor and then grab my cell phone and call Carwyn.

"Hailey," he says in surprise. "What time is it out there?"

"It's time for me to show that I'm all in. I won't be a quitter," I say.

I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, "All right. You just made my day. No, my year."

Maybe I've made mine too. We'll have to see what happens next.