The Christmas Romance Wish (Love, Laughs & Mystery in Coco Key #5)

3. Emmie

Emmie

CHAPTER 3

My cheeks aren’t red from me dashing into the early morning to grab bagels. No, they’re still blistering hot because I belatedly realized I hadn’t hung up the phone with Alex last night and he might have heard Dylann’s comments about his voice.

His voice makes me want to assume the Crush Pose and chat with him all day and night. His low, commanding tone makes those pesky bah humbugs hum.

But I can’t let myself think about that because I’m catching a flight west in about two hours. Five hours after that I’ll meet my writing partner for the first time and I have to be purely professional.

In the living room of our apartment, Dylann has Christmas carols playing on her vintage record player and strings up poofy garlands in pink, sage, and gold. I hope Ginny is a Grinch like me and doesn’t decorate. I couldn’t handle being at their ranch at Christmas on top of trying to keep my crush on a man I’ve never met in person under wraps.

Oh, that’s what I’ll do, I’ll wrap myself up in scarves and cold weather gear so no one can see my flaming cheeks which are sure to remain red throughout the weekend since Alex likely heard my roommate’s comment .

“You’re still overthinking?” Dylann tosses a giant foam gumdrop at me.

I’ve had a major case of “Busy Brain” since last night and hardly slept. “I just wish you’d waited to be sure I’d hung up the phone.” I already can’t stand the whine in my voice.

She balances half on the counter and half on a kitchen stool while draping the area above the cabinets with faux evergreen swag. “He probably didn’t hear me.”

“But what if he did?”

I catch the edge of her smirk. “Then you don’t deny you have sight-unseen feelings?”

With a huff, I say, “Is that a technical term? Seems you’re in the market of making stuff up lately. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll tell Alex you’re a serial liar and blurt things out at random. Corgis have dumb butts. Chocolate was made by aliens. Leggings have no place in society.”

“You can throw me under the bus, but all of those things are false. What I said was fact.”

My brain races, laying out all the what-ifs and yeah-buts.

“And I’m sure he’ll buy that from his adorable co-writer, emphasis on adorable, and co-writer meaning you make stuff up for a living.”

“That’s not how placing emphasis works and I write nonfiction. Usually.” I have been toying with trying my hand at a romance about unrequited love.

“Just saying, you like Captain America.”

“Dylann, he has a Ginny.”

“Are you sure about that?” She winks.

“Yes. He’s mentioned her.”

“What if he had a Ginny? Past tense and he’s single now. Or what if Ginny is his sister? Didn’t someone once mistake you and your brother for a couple?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes and ew. The woman was ninety-seven and had poor eyesight. ”

“What if you’re just trying to come up with reasons for him not to be available?” Dylann presses.

My busy brain has been over all of these possibilities. I ran a Sharpie through every one, crossing them out. It’s not possible. It’s not happening. End of story.

That same brother would scold me for the pout I wear right now. “Why would I try to come up with reasons for Alex not to be available?”

Like a Christmas elf, Dylann hops down from the stool and takes my hands in hers. “Christmas is the time of year for hope and wish-making.”

My busy brain is also familiar with that. Every year, I’ve made the same wish for my parents to return. It’s never come true.

“I wish you’d forget about Alex and let me embarrass myself in peace.” Folding my arms in front of my chest, I huff.

“Careful what you wish for.”

I shoot Dylann a look. But I can’t stay mad because she’s glowing with that certain seasonal light and she’s right. Christmas is a time of hope, but I left mine down south, a long time ago.

I have my reasons for being a Grinch.

It’ll be cold in Utah, so after a warm shower, I put on a pair of fitted jeans, one of my many sweaters, this one with a cowl neck, and thick socks. I packed last night and fit the bagels into my carry-on.

After tucking away a few of my personal items, I close my bedroom door. The movers will be here to pack up my things—Royal insisted—and when I return to Manhattan, I’ll have the key to his penthouse.

I’ll probably end up staying with Dylann at her parents’ place half the time.

For now, it’s time to shine, in a professional way that has nothing to do with the perfect eyeliner I applied, the dusting of eyeshadow, or the demure red lip. I pop them and pucker up, posing for a selfie with Dylann for her digital scrapbook.

“Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and jolly-weekend-of-meeting-the-man-of-your-dreams,” Dylann says.

“I hope you get coal in your stocking.”

We both laugh because she knows I don’t mean it. Mostly. I don’t want to think about how this is our last official moment as roommates, so with another hug, I whisk out the door.

While waiting to board the airplane, my brother CJ calls as he does every week.

“Any chance you’ll be home for Christmas? We have a surprise for you.” Excitement fills his voice.

“Royal said you’re married.”

There’s a pregnant pause. “That’s true information.”

“For a while now...”

“Also factual.”

“CJ, why didn’t you tell me?!” If we were in person, I’d kick him in the shins and then we’d hug because I can’t stay mad at CJ for more than thirty seconds. We’ve tested it. He’s the teddy bear of the bunch. Magnus is a grizzly. Royal is a lovable grump and Ryan is a lovable goof.

“Surprise?” he says more as a question and less like he just jumped out of a giant cake.

“I’ll do my best to be ho—there.” I was about to say home , but I’m not sure what to call Coco Key.

All my life, I’ve been homesick, but not for a place. For a pair of people. For my parents. They are a person’s first home and I didn’t get much time with mine—at least not that I remember. I would hardly be able to pick them out of a crowd.

“Ho, ho, ho?” my brother asks.

“More like bah humbug.”

“Seriously? I thought you’d grow out of your dislike of Christmas.”

More accurately, it’s an avoidance that’s more easily expressed by being Grinchy about it. “CJ, those sound like fighting words.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll let up, but the others won’t. If you’re not here by New Year’s, Magnus will track you down, Royal will charter a plane, Ryan will pick you up kicking and screaming?—”

“And what will you do?”

“I’ll sit back and laugh.”

Of course, that’s what my surf bum brother would do. The loudspeaker crackles, announcing the flight is boarding.

“Where are you?” CJ asks.

Guiltily clearing my throat because I know he’ll report back to our siblings, and they prefer when I share my travel plans, I tell the truth. “The airport.”

“So, you’re on your way?” His excitement filters through the phone.

“Indirectly.”

“Does Magnus know where you’re going?”

“No, I did not send our oldest brother my itinerary because I’m an adult, CJ.”

“Ryan knows people with private jets. He would’ve sent?—”

I could afford private transport, but I’m doing my best to remain normal after the windfall from our grandfather.

My phone vibrates again. The bah humbugs jolt. But it’s Magnus. News travels faster between my brothers than it does on the Coconut Wireless.

“Magnus texted. Royal is calling in on the other line. Should I expect Ryan to appear with a chauffeur?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. My baller brother would do something outrageous like that to make sure I got from the airport in Salt Lake City to my destination safely.

Then again, they’ve been unusually hands-off lately except for CJ’s weekly calls to make sure I’m coming home and Isla reaching out to see if I want a room at the resort for New Year’s Eve. She and Royal also handled the move from SoHo to his penthouse which resulted in Isla technically letting it slip that CJ is no longer single. Royal confirmed the marriage.

Come to think of it, they’ve been preoccupied this past year, but I can’t complain because sometimes it feels like they don’t trust me or are afraid I’m so fragile that I’ll break.

For instance, a condition of my moving to New York was continuing my jiu-jitsu training—our parents practiced and Chip, my Brazilian-born grandfather, made sure we continued the tradition when we were growing up. I had my brown belt, but my brothers insisted I continue, and then they wanted me to compete, so I did throughout college—my black belt is another one of my secrets.

I only agreed because I wanted to be a person my parents would like. My mother was especially accomplished in martial arts and had several titles, so I imagine she’d be proud of me. Dad loved art and history. I found comfort in the latter, so I majored in it at Columbia which led me to my current profession.

I’m glad my brothers are all happily married. I’d like to have been there for Magnus and Lally’s big day on Thanksgiving. But work...and my reluctance to return to a place that has never felt like home. It’s more like a scene of a crime, one where I was the victim.

I don’t have skeletons in my closet. But Coco Key took almost everyone I love from me. Going back makes me fear it’ll happen again, so I stay away.

A therapist—or even Dylann—would probably have a lot to say about that, but the fear is real. Much like Christmas, I avoid the town.

After boarding the plane, I drop into the spacious first-class seat—I received an upgrade when I complimented one of the flight attendants on her socks covered in corgis wearing Santa hats. For the record, they don’t have dumb butts. They have adorable, fuzzy backsides. I love dogs. All dogs and cats and cows. Basically, all animals.

And, apparently, guys with slight western accents because in the flurry of communications from the McGregor guys, I didn’t see that Alex sent me a voice memo. While the stewardess runs the flight pre-check, the bah humbugs in my belly do a pre-listen swoon.

Putting the phone to my ear, on the recording, Alex says, “Hi Emmie. Change of plans. The ride I’d arranged for you from the airport fell through because their flight was delayed. I’ll be there to pick you up. Look for the guy in flannel, the Wild Warriors hat, and a beard.” He pauses. “Unless I shave it before then. Beard status pending.”

Like the blush I wore last night into this morning, the smile doesn’t fade from my lips the entire flight.

Not even when we hit turbulence over the Rocky Mountains.

Not when the flight attendants buckle into their jump seats.

Not when someone’s poorly stowed luggage slides down the aisle.

But we make it safely to Utah with a smooth landing. That means I have to get off the airplane wearing this dumb grin and meet Alex who likely has Ginny along with him for the ride because they’re so in love that they can’t stand to be apart for more than five minutes.

I tell my busy brain to chill.

Do I have a vivid and slightly vindictive imagination? Possibly. You’d never know it by looking at me and this wild grin I’m wearing as I wait for the businessman in front of me to diligently pack up his entire home office, blocking me from disembarking.

It’s just as well because it delays the inevitable heartbreak.

Yes, Dylann was right. It’s that bad.

Do I regret falling for a man whom I’ve never met in person and whose heart belongs to someone else?

Actually, yes because I should know better than to think I’d be anything but lonely this Christmas.

It takes me a while to collect my luggage—Dylann reminded me that I’m packing for cold and hot weather locations so I brought a lot. Mostly, she ignored my packing cubes and stuffed items in my suitcases. I load them onto a luggage cart.

As I stride through the terminal, pushing way too much luggage for little more than a two-week trip, I scowl at the holiday décor. If the Grinch were a lady, I’d be her. I didn’t choose this for myself, but compounding factors make me dread the holiday and not only because it’s also my birthday.

No one wants to hear that sob story. Instead, I help heroes and people who’ve transformed their lives tell theirs. After spending months emailing back and forth as I cowrite a veteran’s biography, it’s finally our moment of reckoning.

I repeat this message to myself to reinforce it while taking a pit stop in the ladies’ room to freshen up and reapply my lipstick. Considering I just bounced around in a metal cylinder while hurtling through the atmosphere for five hours, I look like a corgi in a Santa hat sat on my head.

After smoothing my hair, I chug the last of my water, hoping it helps stop the churning anticipation in my stomach of having my hopes and dreams dashed when Ginny welcomes me into her home and tells me how amazing Alex is.

Facts I already know.

I prepare myself with words of praise and kindness at how lucky she is to be dating a real American hero.

When I finally tear myself from the ladies’ room, I emerge from the secured part of the airport and stride toward the exit. The festive decorations follow me along with the classic carol “We Wish You A Merry Christmas” playing over the building’s audio system instead of the usual crackling of announcements.

Outside, the air is crisp and refreshing as I draw a deep breath.

Every year, my Christmas wish has been for my parents to return. Perhaps it’s time to move on. Maybe it’s time to switch up my wish. Instead of wanting something from the past, I’ll look toward the future. A future where I’m not awkward Emmie with her busy brain, always alone. Maybe leaving the house beyond my daily runs for a peppermint mocha will prove fruitful. Perhaps during this trip, somewhere between Utah and Florida, I’ll meet someone special .

As my breath puffs in the cool early evening air, I decide that this year, I’ll make a Christmas romance wish.

Then again, I fear I already have, but he’s taken...and standing by the door, only a few yards away.

I recognize Alex instantly by his stature and posture alone. He’s tall with broad shoulders. Clad in jeans and a heavy winter jacket over a plaid shirt. Well-built with butterscotch brown eyes and dark hair. He sports an attractive amount of stubble, but I only notice that because he’s commented on his daily battle with whether or not to shave.

Can’t lie. I rather like the rugged mountain man look.

And wouldn’t you know it, those bah humbugs betray me again.

Good thing it’s twilight and gloomy because my cheeks compete with Rudolph and his red nose.