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

21. Emmie

Emmie

CHAPTER 21

I lie on the queen-sized bed in the guest bedroom at Alex’s house on Eaglewood Ranch. I am not in Crush Pose, nor am I swooning. No, I have my head under the pillow because I can’t stop crying.

Twenty-six years’ worth of tears spill out of me.

No sooner do I have the thought than they come to an abrupt stop.

I sit up.

I’ve never cried like this.

Not about my parents. Not when Chip died. Not about any of the things that make me sad. I’ve sucked it up, pushed it down.

My tear ducts have always worked—I shed tears when I broke my arm at the age of six after trying to follow Royal up a palm tree.

Tears came to my eyes when Ryan threw a football at me with a little too much force. I was ten. A few tears escaped when I found out Magnus was in a coma. CJ, well, he’s seen a few crocodile tears from me, namely when he wouldn’t share his Halloween candy.

But the liquid that just came out of my eyes was freed by my love for a masculine yet sensitive guy in plaid .

But is he my guy?

I could try to figure this out alone.

Instead, I call Dylann.

“You were right,” I say when she answers the phone.

“Happy Christmas Eve. Is this an early present? What was I right about?” Astonishment fills her voice.

“I fa-la-la-la in love.”

“You fell in love?”

“It was insta-love, and he wants to marry me tomorrow. On Christmas Day. He wants to replace my bad memories with better ones. New ones,” I report as if relaying cold hard facts instead of the warm, wonderful ones I’ve always longed for. I’m just afraid they’re going to disappear. Melt like snow.

“Are we talking about Alex or something else?”

I tell Dylann everything from when he picked me up at the airport until about an hour ago.

“I’d like to gloat about being right, but more to the point, why is this a problem?” she asks.

“I don’t need a man.”

“But they’re helpful for opening jars.”

“I have that thingy from the late-night infomercial.”

“They can reach items off high shelves.”

“I have a stepstool,” I counter.

“They’re good for other things...like companionship, shared laughter, making out.” She sing songs that last part.

“Alex said the same thing. Well, not the making out part.” He showed me how good that can be.

“Sounds like you’re talking yourself out of a good thing.”

“But what if?—?”

“I’m talking to you in ALL CAPS, Emmie. Put on those sugar shoes and strut toward him. Lean into this. Don’t walk away. I’ve never heard you so happy at this time of year. Alex single-handedly lifted you out of the seasonal slumps. Well, you don’t sound happy right now. More like wretched, but you’re doing it to yourself. Just because you had one bad apple in the past, doesn’t mean Alex is rotten. From the sound of things, he was more like an orange—the pomander kind spiked with cinnamon and cloves. At least from the sound of his voice. Okay, and I looked him up online. Jacob and I agreed he’s very handsome.”

Only Dylann would be talking about fruit at a time like this. I promise her I’ll be smart, think about what she said, and put on the sugar shoes if only to show myself that I can stand tall and not give into the seasonal slumps.

She ends the call with an enthusiastic, “Ho, ho, ho, and happy wedding day eve.”

Slouching on the bed, I exhale. Part of me wishes I was back in my writing tower, all by myself, knowing the outcome of the people’s stories as I put them into words.

That reminds me of the missing parts of my own story.

I call CJ, hoping he’s not on a deep dive or abroad.

“It’s late,” he answers sleepily. “Everything okay?”

“Forgot about the time difference. I’m in Utah.”

“I know.”

“Did Magnus put a tracker on me?”

“Not quite.”

“I have a dilemma.”

“Is this an emergency?” My laid-back, surfer brother suddenly sounds very alert.

“No. Not really. More of an emotion-cy.”

“Is that a word? Like an emotional emergency?”

“I don’t know. But I do know that I’m in love with a guy who lives in another state, is older than me, and?—”

CJ guffaws. Yes, that’s the exact description of the sound he makes. My brother is laughing at me.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

“So what that Alex is older?”

“How do you know his name?”

“Never mind that. We’ve always joked that you’re like a grizzled old granny war veteran. ”

“Who’s we?”

“Okay, me. I’ve thought that. But I bet if I surveyed Mag, Ryan, and Royal, they’d agree.”

“You’re on speaking terms?”

“Of course. You’ve missed a lot. Time to come home, sis.”

I’m not sure where that is other than wherever my heart is. My family occupies part of it. So does Alex now. “You think I’m like a grizzled old granny war veteran?”

“Sometimes.”

Maybe that’s why Lexman and I get along so well.

“You’d always make sure I flossed. Hollered if the neighbor kids trampled the flowers.”

“That was Mom’s garden! At least, that’s what Chip said.”

“Have you seen yourself drive?” CJ asks.

“I take road safety seriously.”

“And you offer no quarter to people who cut you off.”

“It’s rude. Anyway, I currently don’t have a car.”

“Because you’re a big city slicker.”

“I’m not that excited about moving into Royal’s penthouse.”

“I know.”

“What don’t you know?” I ask, suspicious.

Last I checked, CJ occupied CJ-land and never leaves. Visitors needed a day pass to enter.

“I don’t know why you’re being a dumb-butt about Alex.”

“What do you know about him?”

“Never mind that. What you need to know is don’t let love slip through your fingers because you’re telling yourself a story. Focus on the truth.”

Wise words I never expected to hear out of my sunbaked brother’s mouth.

“Sound advice.”

“Glad you think so because I’m going to be a dad and?—”

“You’re what?!”

“Just come back to Coco Key, Emmie. We miss you. All of us.” Before I can say another word, he hangs up .

I remain seated on the bed for a long moment before wandering to the window. For so long, when I looked outside, I saw a cement wall. From Royal’s penthouse, I’ll avoid the windows because it’s so high up.

But here, I feel grounded and yet like the heavens are boundless. I gaze at the stars sparkling in the sky. The moon bathing the snow white. On the lawn, the snow angel I made earlier comes into focus.

With it comes the truths of the last few days in the form of snapshots—Alex and I meeting in person for the first time. His position of command and friendship among the brotherhood of vets. Not going to deny his muscles make an appearance. Us snuggled up in the Jeep and him curing my hiccups. There was everything that happened in a whirlwind of Christmas excitement.

Then the biggest bit of nonfiction slides into my mind. I love Alex.

I hope he’ll understand why I was being a dumb-butt, in CJ’s words. Who also offered the sage wisdom that I do not tell myself fictional stories. Save those for the page.

But I need more than a miracle to make this work.

Then again, what else is this season for if not hope?

I find Alex gazing into the fire at the hearth and the stockings with our names on them. The stairs don’t make so much as a squeak, but he turns, sensing my approach.

His eyes burn then soften. He opens his mouth.

Holding up my hands, I shake my head, needing to speak first. “I’m sorry. Sorry for being a dumb-butt. For doubting us. Please, be my Mr. Claus.”

Alex strides toward me, relief washing through his features. “It all happened so fast. I’m sorry if I scared you off.”

“You didn’t. I did that myself. I’ve been scaring myself off from living my life. My parents wouldn’t have wanted me hiding away in other people’s stories. My brothers don’t actually want to lock me away in a tower. Chip, my grandfather, was the grand master of adventures. Granted, was quite a bit older by the time I was able to go on them, but he’d want this for me. So do I.” I wag my finger between us, knowing how much Chip loved my grandmother.

Alex wraps his arms around me, breathing hard as if he’d just carried me up the sledding hill. He’s relieved, overjoyed. In love. So am I.

After stoking the fire, we settle on the couch, gingerbread cookies and milk on the table in front of us.

I take a bite and they taste even better than I remember. Maybe everything will, now that I’ve cast off my shackles.

After taking a sip of milk, I say, “Remember when I told you a bit about my family? I didn’t tell you everything. We have what I call a backstory.”

Alex lifts his eyebrows.

I tell him how we descended from Portuguese royalty and that the part of the family who claimed what’s now Brazil for the crown was cast away. “Sending Jo?o to the new land was Ad?o’s ploy to get rid of his twin. Distraught, he died, leaving his wife and children to fend for themselves. His wife—my great, great, great or so grandmother, Márcia—was resourceful and by that I mean she turned to piracy to help the family survive.”

“Like swords and treasure types of pirates?”

I nod. “She became the pirate queen, the Devil’s Charm, and in her bitterness at being widowed, she created the Coroa de Lágrimas, the crown of tears, and swore revenge on the House of Sousa back in Portugal.”

“Sounds like a movie.”

“It might be, one day. But the crown was lost. My grandfather, Chip, commissioned my brothers to find it.” I tap the buttons on Alex’s shirt. “So, if you should someday meet them, be prepared for an earful, at least from CJ.”

“Will do. Did they find the crown?”

“As far as I know, everyone except CJ thinks it’s a fairy tale.” Biting my lip, I add, “But I’d like for you to come with me to Coco Key if you think you can stand some fictional tall tales.”

“I’d love to. So you’re technically a princess.”

“Kind of. Well, and a pirate. Before my grandfather passed away, he asked me to write his story and I’ve been working on it.”

“That’s quite the story.”

“But it’s not my story.”

Before I can say more, Alex plants a kiss on my lips. “Emmie, it’s time we start writing our story.”

“I’d like that. A fresh start.”

“So, do you really want to be my Mrs. Claus?” Alex’s eyes twinkle.

My lips curve up. “Marry me tomorrow.”

“Funny you should say that because I asked Pastor Jeff about a Christmas Day wedding.” Alex produces the engagement ring from his pocket. “Emmie, will you marry me?”

I throw my arms around Alex’s neck, kiss him twelve times at least, and then he slides the ring around my finger.

The next morning, I wake up early to a white Christmas. Alex and I have breakfast and then I scoot back upstairs to get ready. My laundry still isn’t clean, but I have the white dress I bought to be Mrs. Claus—Alex thought that for sure, he’d be the one to dress as Mr. Claus at the church event, so he wanted me to be prepared.

I style my hair in loose curls. I snag a few little snowflake paperclips that somehow ended up in the cart during the shopping spree at the market and pin them where a veil would clip in.

Thankfully, Dylann insisted I bring my “Sugar shoes,” the pair of high heels studded with sparkly gemstones and pearls.

From outside, the whirring of a helicopter sounds at the same time a car honks. Confused, I peer out the window. Voices rise and fall. Is this a military operation or something else ?

I open the door and Shaylin stands there, about to knock.

“You look beautiful. I was just coming to find you. We have to hurry to the church before the service starts. I’m your elf escort. Oh, and happy birthday.”

I don’t even have time to be grouchy about that, nor do I want to. Not today.

When we get outside, the helicopter peels off toward Holidayle. Shaylin makes sure my gown is safely inside her white 4Runner before speeding toward the church.

We chat, but mostly my mind races to keep up with her speed on the winding country roads and the red helicopter above.

“I had a feeling about the two of you,” Shaylin says as we get out of the vehicle.

I stand there, dumbstruck, not quite sure what to do, where to go, or how this is happening so fast. But for once, my busy brain doesn’t ask too many questions.

Shaylin says, “You look beautiful. Let me take a picture before you go inside.”

I spin in a circle, the white dress flaring at the bottom as she snaps a few photos.

“Jesse is on the other side of the door waiting for you.” Shaylin looks toward the sky. “And your groom will be along any minute.”

“He’s not parachuting in, is he?”

She laughs. “No, but that would’ve been cool.” The way she smiles makes me wonder if that’s the kind of grand entrance she’d like to make on her wedding day. I bet she and Dylann would get along splendidly even though my bestie is best described as an extrovert, and Pax calls Shaylin, Shylin, implying she’s the opposite.

As I approach the church’s double doors, they slowly open. My thoughts do the same. I’m about to get married to a man who is solid, secure, and has a voice that’s the stuff of my dreams.

Jesse nods in greeting.

I’m a bit wobbly in the sugar shoes. Not from nerves, but it’s because I’m an island girl who grew up in sandals. But my thoughts don’t go far out to see because I notice the bouquets consisting of sprays of white roses dotted with pinecones, evergreen sprigs, and red berries decorating the room. Garlands of red and white ribbon frame the altar and only candles light the church.

“This isn’t for the Christmas service, is it?” I mutter.

“No. It’s for you.”

“How’d you guys pull this off?”

“Alex, Pax, Austin, and I have been working together for a long time. Whatever we do, we have everything down to military precision.” He glances at his dive watch. “We also have thirty minutes before we need to clear out.” He spins his pointer finger in the air like it’s time to get things going.

As the door opens, I suddenly wish my brothers were here. Then again, I wasn’t at their weddings. I couldn’t very well have all of them walk me down the aisle.

But even in these high heels, I know my destination. I’ll arrive there on steady feet.

At the end of the aisle strewn with white rose petals like snowflakes, Alex stands at attention. Standing tall and freshly shaven, he has the bearing of a man who spent years in the military, getting his life squared away, serving our nation in preparation for serving our future family, for being a loving and loyal partner.

His smile is dimpled and all for me. My gaze then travels from his head to his shoulders, continuing to his feet. He wears a dark gray suit and that is a sight to behold. I hope someone is taking photos—for Dylann, of course. I’ll never forget this moment as my thoughts finally go silent save for one. I love this man with all my heart.

Alex’s eyes devour me the closer I get as I march down the aisle.

He mouths, “Oh by golly.”

The pastor waits beside him and soon the others turn up, watching eagerly as we make our vows. It’s something of a blur, but every word I speak is the truth.

But they’re more than a promise. I see the truth of his devotion in the depths of his eyes. In the tenderness of his lips. In the way he brushes his fingertips across my cheek after the pastor announces that we can kiss.

Alex leans close and whispers, “This is real.”

“It’s our nonfiction,” I reply.

Then we melt together in a kiss.

It’s only when I hear loud cheering and hooting along with a very specific whistle do I realize that beyond Alex’s friends seated in the front rows, we have an audience.

The images of my four brothers fill the screen used during church services.

They sing happy birthday to me.

My jaw lowered, I say, “How’d you?—?”

Alex winks then takes my hand and whisks me down the aisle to applause.

No sooner do we get outside than he spins me around as snowflakes swirl, landing gently on the powdery snow.

We kiss again.

“You look beautiful,” Alex says.

With a smirk, I say, “Thank you. And you look rather dashing yourself. I’ll never forget you saying, Oh by golly .”

“But you couldn’t hear me.”

I tap my temple. “Your voice is always in my head.”

“We did the Marry Me without the app. Guess you are marriage material, after all.”

“And I’m romantic-issed at Christmas—a combination of romantic and kissed.” I press one to Alex’s lips.

When we part, I say, “Merry Christmas to all and?—”

He adds, “And to Emmie, a happy birthday!”

I got my Christmas romance wish and those bah humbugs turn into butterflies.