Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Noelle
I step off the train and into the busy streets of New York, the cold air immediately biting at my skin. Monday morning, bright and early. No time to ease back into the busy streets. My feet practically carry me to the office on autopilot, my mind already running through a mental checklist of all the things that need to be done for the gala.
By the time I settle at my desk, it’s a blur of emails, phone calls, and a growing to-do list. I’m chasing down auction items, rearranging the seating chart, and trying to get the caterer on the same page for what feels like the hundredth time. Every time I think I’ve figured something out, something else pops up. I don’t even have time to look at the clock until it’s almost seven.
Miracles happen around Christmas, right? That’s how it works in all those cheesy holiday movies. Everything falls into place at the last minute with some twinkly music in the background. So, I tell myself everything will be fine by tomorrow. It has to be.
I grab my purse and head home, my shoulders aching from hunching over my desk all day. It’s been nonstop, and all I can think about is getting back, slipping into something comfy, and taking a deep breath before facing the madness tomorrow. Hopefully Jacob will come through and will take care of dinner.
But when I reach my building, something catches my eye—Jacob.
Standing in front of the door. In a suit. A very fancy suit.
He looks like he just walked out of some high-end event—his hair perfectly styled, the sharp black suit hugging him in all the right places, and that look of pure determination on his face. He’s trying way too hard not to look like a total heartthrob, and it’s working . . . sort of. My heart does that ridiculous little flip it always does when I see him.
Then I notice he’s holding something. A set of keys.
“What . . . what are you doing here?” I ask, my voice shaky from a mix of surprise and, okay, maybe a little excitement.
He steps forward, holding out the keys. “Thought you might need these.”
I blink, completely confused. “Keys? To what?”
Without saying anything, he opens the door to the main lobby and gestures for me to follow. Curiosity piqued, I step inside.
As we walk up the three flights of stairs, I can feel my heart racing—and not just from the climb. His silence is killing me, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at me that makes me think I’m not about to hate whatever’s on the other side of this.
When we finally reach the third floor, Jacob leads me to my grandma’s apartment. And that’s when I see it. The brand-new lock . . . and hanging just below it is a festive wreath with the words Merry Grumpmass spelled out in big, cheerful letters.
I freeze, my heart skipping a beat, emotions swirling inside me—confusion, excitement, disbelief. “Jacob . . . did you?—?”
“I fixed it,” he says, his voice softer now, but still steady. “Your grandma’s apartment. It’s hers now and she’s happy to let you live here while she’s enjoying warmer places. I get that you’re not ready for us to live together, but we can be neighbors again.”
For a moment, I just stand there, staring at him like he’s some kind of Christmas miracle I didn’t see coming. The keys in his hand . . . the wreath . . . the lock . . . it’s all starting to sink in.
“Why would you?—?”
“Because I promised I would fix it. I was an idiot,” he admits, stepping closer, his eyes locking onto mine. “And because I love you, Noelle Joy Holiday. More than I’ve loved anyone. Merry Grumpmass.”
I laugh, but it’s the kind of laugh that comes when you’re trying not to cry. Before I can stop myself, I close the distance between us and throw my arms around him, pulling him into a hug that says everything I can’t put into words right now.
“I love you, too, Mr. Grump. Merry Grumpmass,” I whisper, holding onto him tightly, not ready to let go of this moment—or him.
He squeezes me gently, and then, without a word, he pulls back and unlocks the door. When it swings open, I freeze. Inside, the apartment is glowing with soft, warm light. In the corner, a Christmas tree stands tall, already filled with ornaments—some of which I recognize from the daily gifts he’s been sending me. Twinkle lights wrap around the branches, casting a magical glow across the room.
But that’s not all.
Lining the walls are signed hockey sticks, footballs, and jerseys—all donated by athletes I’ve been trying to get on board for the gala. I blink, my mind struggling to catch up. And then, I see it: a neat stack of paperwork on the table, with names of people I didn’t even know had expressed interest. Tables for the gala—sold out.
I turn to Jacob, speechless. “You?—”
“Got a few more donations,” he says casually, like it’s no big deal. “And the rest of the tables? Bought by my athletes and friends. The gala’s set. You’re all good.”
I feel my breath catch in my throat. The gala is set. After weeks of stress, sleepless nights, and endless worries, it’s done. Miracles do happen . . . and apparently, they happen the night before Grumpmass delivered by Mr. Grump Next Door.
“Jacob . . .” My voice cracks, and I have no idea how to thank him for this. “I don’t know what to say.”
He steps closer, his hands sliding around my waist, pulling me in. “You don’t have to say anything. Just . . . let me be your Grumpmass miracle.”
I laugh softly, resting my head against his chest. “You’re not nearly as grumpy as you think you are.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” he mutters into my hair, a smile in his voice. “I have a reputation to uphold.”
I pull back just enough to look up at him, my heart so full it feels like it might burst. “Thank you. For everything.”
Jacob doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, he leans down, his lips brushing against mine, soft and slow. “Merry Grumpmass, Noelle,” he whispers, his breath warm against my skin.
And then he kisses me.
Really kisses me.
It’s not the soft, tentative kisses we’ve shared before. This one is deep, full of everything unsaid—gratitude, forgiveness, something that feels a lot like love. His hands slide up to cup my face, pulling me closer, and I melt into him, letting the world around us fade away. The only thing I’m aware of is the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against mine and the way his lips move with mine, like we’ve been doing this forever.
It’s the kind of kiss that makes my toes curl and my stomach flip, the kind that tells me, without a doubt, that this is where I belong. In his arms, in this moment, with him.