Bonus scene
Rowan
T-3 Days Before Christmas
A pop rendition of “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas” blares over the speakers; the air smells of cinnamon, cloves, and someone’s uncle’s liquor cabinet; and everywhere you look there’s green, red, and gold. It’s the kind of hell that feels like a bad dream, claustrophobic and loud and colorful, and Kennedy looks like she’s on the verge of an orgasm.
Huh. Maybe it’s not so bad in here, after all.
Kennedy and I are back in Christmas All Year Coffee, sitting next to the tree at the same table we used on our last visit.
“They’re going to love it here,” she says, beaming at me as she takes my hand.
“If they’re anything like you, they will,” I agree.
It’s three days before Christmas, and we just returned from our trip to the ski cabin, which would have been perfect if we hadn’t been joined by the cameramen, production assistants, and Harry.
Harry’s a little smug that his plan for saving the show worked out so perfectly, and last night over a round of schnappsicles that Kennedy made at the cabin, we debated who was the better matchmaker, him or me. I would never normally want the title of best matchmaker, but I wanted to ask a favor of him, and reminding him of the role I’d played in him and Oliver getting together got him to agree. (There were also schnappsicles at work.)
We’ve come back to Highland Hills to meet Kennedy’s best friend, Olive, and Olive’s mother, who’s basically Kennedy’s mother since her own mom couldn’t be bothered. They’re meeting us here at Christmas All Year Coffee, which has been cleared of other customers so we can film, and I’m not going to lie. I’m fucking nervous.
I’m not used to giving a shit whether people approve of me, but I do need Olive and Nanny Rose to like me. Getting their approval is important to me.
I’d prefer it if we could meet off camera for the first time, but Harry was insistent that the moment be captured for the show. I look around for him and find him behind the counter, having a lively conversation with a red-haired waitress. I’m nervous that he’s back there, talking like that. Experience has taught me it’ll result in something embarrassing or over-the-top happening.
The cameramen are around, too, of course, but I’ve learned to pretend they’re not. Still, there’s always a buzzing awareness at the edge of my mind—the feeling of being watched by someone who shouldn’t be there.
I hate it.
It’s worth it.
To be with Kennedy, I’d agree to be on a billboard in Times Square.
Shit, they aren’t going to run those kinds of ads for the show, are they?
Kennedy takes my hand and gives me a knowing look. “You’re thinking about the cameras again. It’s not too late to back down, Rowan. We can tell them we don’t want to do the show anymore. Maybe they can figure out another narrative that involves us quitting.”
My heart rattles in my chest and I turn my hand in hers, interlacing our fingers. “Thank you for saying so, but no. You’re going to get your show. Just know that I’m never going to smile for the cameras. That’s a line I won’t cross.”
“I think they like it that way,” she whispers with a small smile. “Harry tells me they’re going to nickname us Princess and the Grump.”
“Fantastic,” I say dryly. “Ivy would probably love that. It sounds like the name of one of her books.”
“Maybe I’ll suggest it to her when she gets back from Charleston,” she says with a wry smile. Ivy went back home to pack a larger suitcase now that she plans on staying in Highland Hills for several weeks. It’s weird, given she’s gone more often than she’s here, but I miss her. I’m glad she’s coming back, even though I shouldn’t be glad for her sake. She’s always made it clear that she likes Highland Hills about as much as people enjoy having hemorrhoids.
“You wouldn’t care,” I respond in a low voice.
“Oh, but I would.”
Then the door jingles, Kennedy looks over with wide, excited eyes. She squeezes and then releases my hand, and I know this is it. Showtime.
That’s what it feels like, anyway, with those cameras picking it all up.
I scowl at the cameramen, who grin back, then get to my feet. Olive and Nanny Rose are coming in through the door, a waft of cold air blowing in from the December day. At the same moment, Olive and Kennedy let out ear-piercing squeals. My gaze lifts to Nanny Rose, and it’s like we’re thinking the same thing: they’re adorable, but if anyone else did that, we’d want earplugs. Olive and Nanny Rose have dark hair and dark eyes, and Olive’s short, maybe five-two at most.
“I’m so glad you’re finally here,” Kennedy says. “I have so much to tell you.”
I’m not sure what they have left to say, because I’ve heard them talk on the phone (Harry gives much less of a shit about keeping her cell phone hostage than my grandmother did), and I shit you not, I’ve never exchanged so much information with another person in my life. I heard them telling each other what they were eating for lunch.
“Yahhhhssss,” Olive says, then gestures around at the lights and other sensory assaults around us. “Is this place for real?”
“Sadly, yes,” I say, before I can stop myself. Then, remembering I’m supposed to make a good impression and not come off as an asshole—at least not yet—I introduce myself.
“We know who you are, of course,” Nanny Rose says, shaking my hand. There’s a hint of you dumbass behind the statement, and I decide on the spot that I like her.
“Do we go to the counter to order?” Olive asks with shining eyes, but Harry comes forward with a smile that promises I won’t like whatever surprise he has in store for us. “Oh, no. We have that all taken care of. Now, why don’t you all go take a seat?”
“I don’t let other people order for me,” Nanny Rose says firmly.
“Yeah, what she said,” I tell Harry.
“Oh, come on, Mom,” Olive says, rolling her eyes. “Let it be a surprise. This is all about the experience.”
From the hopeful look in Kennedy’s eyes, it’s obvious she agrees. Fuck. “Okay,” I grumble, nodding to the table.
Nanny Rose hesitates but then nods, and we all take a seat. I sit with my back to the tree, giving Olive and Kennedy the tree-facing seats, both because they’ll enjoy them and because I wouldn’t.
Kennedy and Olive immediately fall deep into conversation, first about the ski cabin where we stayed, then about Olive’s love life. Apparently, she doesn’t have one, but there’s this one guy–
Well, I don’t give much of a shit about that, honestly. I want her to be happy because she’s Kennedy’s best friend, but gossip is like gangrene to the soul. Nanny Rose doesn’t say much, just huffs at some parts, and then tells her daughter, “You are much too good for that idiot boy.”
We’re there for all of four minutes before a server comes up with a platter of drinks. They’re pretty basic mugs of hot chocolate, although they’re so covered in whipped cream I’m surprised Harry’s willing to be in the same room as them. I shoot a look at him. This can’t have been his surprise.
He gives me a suspicious smile.
We’re halfway into the hot chocolates when Kennedy announces she has to go to the restroom. Olive instantly says she’s going with her.
“No, you shouldn’t,” I blurt.
Fuck, that was as weird thing to say. I can tell because of the way all three women are now frowning at me. Nanny Rose is probably thinking, You’re much too good for that idiot boy, Kennedy.
“It’s just…” I feel sweat beading on my brow. “They’re single bathrooms. No place for you to hang out.”
“That’s okay,” Olive says. “I’ll just turn my back while she pees.”
I feel my ears turning red. “Your hot chocolate will get cold.”
They exchange a look, and Olive nods slowly like someone who’s dealing with a potentially rabid dog. “Ohhhh…um…kay.”
Kennedy doesn’t say anything to make me feel like a weird asshole–not that she needs to–she just squeezes my shoulder and tells us she’ll be back soon.
Then she walks off.
I dart a glance at Harry, silently conveying that we had a bargain, and this is his time to pony up his end of it. He sighs dramatically, his message that I’m messing up his show, but tells the cameramen to turn off their cameras.
When I get his thumbs up, I turn to Olive and Nanny Rose, who are staring at me with understandable curiosity.
“The cameras are turned off,” I say. “I…I wanted to ask you something off the record, just me and the two of you.” I swallow. “I’m not rich. I’m not the kind of man who’s going to build a company overnight or, I don’t know, buy a ton of hot stocks. I’m also not a man who’s going to get a medal from the town for being the best citizen or some shit. But I love Kennedy. I want to marry her. For real marry her. I’m going to ask her, and her parents have already made it crystal clear they don’t approve of us dating, let alone anything more. Their blessing doesn’t matter, though. Her brother’s does. Yours does. So I’m asking for your blessing.”
“We don’t know you,” Nanny Rose says, eyeing me. “What if you’re an idiot boy too?”
Dammit. I knew she was thinking that.
Olive snorts. “He’s not, Mama.” But she takes a long look at me too, her eyes digging down deep. “You hate Christmas.”
Is that a dealbreaker for this woman?
Maybe. I saw the way her face lit up when she stepped foot in here, and Kennedy has told me that all her Christmas pajamas were gifts from her friend. Still, I’m not going to lie to Kennedy’s best friend. “I don’t hate Christmas, but I do hate”–I wave my arm around–“this commercial bullshit.” In for a penny… “And I hate this place too. I really hate this place.”
I can feel the server behind the counter glaring at me.
“But you’re here because Kennedy loves it,” Olive supplies. “You don’t like the cameras either, but you’ve let them film you for this show. You’re still letting them.”
Nanny Rose purses her mouth to the side and then nods. “Okay.”
My heart pounds harder in my chest. “You’ll gives us your blessing?”
Olive grins at me. “Got any hot brothers? That might help tilt the scales in your favor.”
I laugh. “Just four sisters, and only one of them is single.”
“You’re a part-time firefighter, though.” She waggles her eyebrows.
“Always the boys with this one,” Nanny Rose says, trying to sound annoyed but not quite managing it.
“I am,” I agree. “But most of us wouldn’t pose for any calendars.”
“You could,” Olive says.
It feels like a test, like she’s asking whether I’m as allergic to the cameras as I’ve said. I am, so this is a test I can easily pass without cheating. “I wouldn’t.”
She nods. “Yeah, you have our blessing. But don’t think that saves you from trying to impress us. We’re here for two days, and I expect to be thoroughly impressed on this visit. Kennedy’s already trying to convince me to move.”
Nanny Rose shoots me a stink-eye look. “You get my daughter to move here, you lose my blessing.”
I’d laugh again, but it’s pretty clear she means it.
“I’m not going to convince her of anything,” I say, “but seems like she’s old enough to make her own decisions.”
I’ve barely gotten the words out when I realize it was probably a dumbass thing to say. But Nanny Rose gives me a nearly there smile and says, “She’s always thought she was old enough to make her own decisions.” Then she nods. “You have my blessing.”
Relief courses through my veins, because I’d worried this might go another way.
Turning to Harry. I gave him a nod, he gives me a thumbs up, beaming, and motions for the cameramen to start rolling again.
It was worth the schnappsicles.
Kennedy comes back from the bathroom and sits, grinning at me. “Were you talking about me?”
“Of course, little princess,” Nanny Rose says, and I jolt a little in my seat, my gaze going to Kennedy.
She smiles back at me. “Her nickname for me since I was three.”
It’s a perfect moment, in as much as anything can be perfect, so of course that’s when my best friend Oliver barges through the door in a Santa suit. “Ho, ho, ho,” he says.
“Good God,” I mutter under my breath, but Kennedy and Olive both seem pleased by the new arrival.
Harry slips out from behind the counter, beaming at Oliver, then announces to us for the cameras, “My handsome boyfriend here has volunteered to bring you on your next adventure. Don’t worry, we have Santa costumes for each of you.”
“Yes,” I say, “that’s exactly what I was worried about. I thought it wasn’t supposed to be Christmas on the show.”
Harry gives me a dirty look, but whatever, they can edit out my question. “We’re celebrating the concept of Christmas All Year Coffee,” he says, “and the spirits of Christmas is something we can all benefit from all year long.”
I’m half amused, half annoyed. “You sound like Scrooge at the end of the movie.”
“It’s from a book,” Harry says, not that I’m surprised. He definitely strikes me as a the book was better sort.
“And about five million film adaptations.”
But Kennedy turns in her chair to give me a big grin. “This was my idea, Rowan. Harry was sweet enough to play along and find a way to include it.”
There are no words that could make me come around as quickly as those.
“The other night, when we played Santa Claus in Highland Hills…it was the best night of my life.”
“Before the fire, obviously,” Harry adds unnecessarily. “No one enjoyed the fire. There was a lot of damage done.”
Oliver starts chuckling as he pulls oversized Santa coats out of his bag.
“Yes,” Kennedy agrees, still looking at me. “We’re going to go to the hospital to bring presents to all of the kids there.”
Other than her, it’s the only thing that could get me to put on that Santa coat. I glance around–Nanny Rose is looking at us, and so is Olive, and so are Harry, Oliver, and all of those damn cameras.
I pull Kennedy to me anyway, and give her a soft kiss. “I love you, Princess,” I whisper.
“I love you too, Grump,” she responds with sparkling eyes.
Then I turn to Oliver and say, “Suit me up.”