Chapter 15
JOY
Istood there watching our beautiful tree blaze against the night sky, and I couldn’t stop the tears from sliding down my cheeks.
Happy tears, the kind I hadn’t cried in what felt like forever.
The kind that came from pure, overwhelming joy instead of the frustrated, heartbroken variety I’d become too familiar with over the past few years.
This was actually happening. The tree lighting was perfect, the crowd was huge and enthusiastic, and people were genuinely happy.
Kids were pointing and gasping at the dancing LED displays.
Couples were taking selfies in front of the glowing branches, and elderly couples were holding hands and smiling like they were remembering their own first Christmases together.
I had done this. Me. Joy Murphy, former corporate nobody who had lost her job, her apartment, and her sense of purpose in the span of three devastating weeks. I had taken this boring old town square and turned it into something breathtaking.
I wasn’t bragging, but damn, it felt good to have a win after so many losses.
“Oh, honey.” Aunt Victoria said as she wrapped me in one of her signature bear hugs. “You did such a beautiful job. Look at all these happy faces!”
I buried my face against her shoulder for a moment, letting myself have this emotional release without worrying about my mascara or my professional composure. “I can’t believe it actually worked,” I whispered.
“I can,” she said firmly, pulling back to look at me. “I knew you’d be perfect for this job the moment I suggested you to the mayor. You’ve got your grandmother’s gift for bringing people together, and your grandfather’s stubborn determination to make things work no matter what.”
More tears threatened to spill over. After months of feeling like a complete failure, like I couldn’t do anything right, hearing those words from someone I loved and respected meant everything.
“Thank you.”
“And honestly,” she continued, shaking her head with amazement, “I can’t believe you figured out how to work those fancy LED lights. When the town council first presented them to me, I was absolutely lost.”
I laughed, wiping at my cheeks. “I was lost! I spent three hours on YouTube watching tutorials.”
“Well, it paid off. The way those lights dance and move, it’s like something you’d see in Times Square, not little old Calton Hill.”
“Thank you,” I said, squeezing her hands. “And thank you for pushing me into this job in the first place. I know I wasn’t exactly enthusiastic when you first suggested it.”
She smiled, that knowing look in her eyes again. “Sometimes we need a little push toward the things that are meant for us. Even when we’re too scared or stubborn to see it ourselves.”
Something in her tone made me think she wasn’t just talking about the job anymore, but before I could ask what she meant, the mayor appeared at my elbow with a huge grin and what looked like half the town council trailing behind her.
“This is spectacular,” she gushed. “I am impressed. Truly.”
“Thank you.”
“I cannot wait to see what else you have up your sleeve!”
No pressure.
The mayor’s eyes were practically sparkling as she gestured toward the tree.
“And that article in the paper certainly helped draw people out tonight! Did you see the turnout? I haven’t seen this many people at a town event since the Fourth of July fireworks got rained out and everyone crowded into the community center. ”
Heat crept up my neck. I wasn’t used to being praised in print. In New York, the only time my name appeared in anything official was usually followed by phrases like “budget constraints” or “position eliminated.”
“That’s… that’s really nice,” I managed.
“Mayor!”
She winked at me and rushed away, pulling Aunt Victoria with her.
“Joy!” Katrina’s voice cut through my emotional moment. I quickly wiped my eyes as she bounded over with her characteristic energy. “This is incredible! The turnout is huge. I think it’s the biggest we’ve had in years!”
“Really?” I asked, scanning the crowd with new eyes. The square was packed with people of all ages and more seemed to be arriving every few minutes.
“Absolutely! And the food situation is perfect. You brought in so many great options, the turkey legs, the roasted nuts, that amazing hot chocolate with the candy cane stirrers. People are already asking me when the full Christmas market opens.”
The pride in her voice made me happy. I wanted to impress people. Katrina had been one of my closest friends since middle school, and having her approval meant the world to me.
“I’m so glad you like it,” I said, meaning every word. “I was worried it might be too much, too different from what people were expecting.”
“Different in the best possible way,” she assured me. “You’ve brought new life to this whole tradition. People are going to be talking about this night for years.”
Just then, someone called her name from across the square, and she spun around with excitement. “Oh, that’s Mike from the historical society! I need to talk to him about the caroling schedule for next weekend. Don’t go anywhere. We need to celebrate properly!”
She disappeared into the crowd, leaving me standing there.
Aunt Victoria waved me over. “Come meet my friend.”
“In a minute,” I said. “I just need a moment to take it all in.”
“Take all the time you need, sweetie. You’ve earned it.”
I found myself alone for the first time all evening. It felt strange after hours of constant motion, constant problem-solving, and constant interaction with vendors. But it was a good kind of strange—peaceful, satisfied, like I could finally breathe deeply and appreciate what we’d accomplished.
The tree continued its light show, the patterns shifting and changing in mesmerizing sequences.
Families were gathered around its base, children pressing as close as the safety barriers would allow, their faces lit up with wonder.
This was what Christmas was supposed to feel like, magical, joyful, full of possibility.
Cooper was standing off to the side of the crowd, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, watching the celebration with that stoic expression I was becoming very familiar with.
But there was something different about his posture tonight.
Less rigid, maybe. Less like he was bracing himself against something painful.
My heart did that stupid fluttery thing it had been doing every time I saw him since yesterday.
He looked good—really good. He’d cleaned up for tonight, traded his usual work clothes for dark jeans and a sweater that brought out the green in his eyes.
He’d even shaved, revealing the strong jaw that gave me butterflies.
Looking at him now, I could see past the gruff exterior he’d been wearing like armor.
This was still the same Cooper who used to carry my books without being asked.
The guy who would sneak me little smiles when Katrina wasn’t looking.
He’d once given me his jacket when I was cold at a football game and then pretended he wasn’t freezing for the rest of the night.
He was still that sweet, protective boy underneath all the hurt and cynicism. I could see it in the way he helped with the tree and in the careful way he had positioned that star. And now I could see the quiet pride on his face as he watched our finished display.
Before I could second-guess myself, I was walking toward him, threading my way through the crowd of happy families and excited children. My heart was pounding, but it was good pounding, anticipation rather than anxiety.
He saw me coming and straightened slightly, that careful guard slipping back into place. But his eyes softened when they met mine. I caught the hint of a smile before he could hide it.
“Cooper,” I said when I reached him, and without thinking, I grabbed both of his hands in mine. “Thank you. I mean it. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
He looked down at our joined hands, then back up at my face. I could see him struggling with the compliment. “It was nothing,” he said, that familiar gruff tone back in his voice. “Just doing my job.”
“It wasn’t nothing,” I insisted, squeezing his hands. “You saved Christmas, Cooper. You saved my Christmas. You saved my ass. This could have been seriously humiliating.”
He opened his mouth to argue, probably to deflect again, and something inside me just snapped.
All the gratitude, all the emotion from the evening, all the feelings I’d been trying so hard to ignore, it all bubbled up at once, and before I could stop myself, I was rising up on my tiptoes and pressing my lips to his.
It was supposed to be quick, just a grateful peck on the lips. A thank-you kiss between friends. But the moment our mouths touched, everything changed.
Electric. That was the only way to describe it.
Like touching a live wire, but in the best possible way.
Cooper’s hands tightened on mine, and for just one perfect, breathless second, he kissed me back.
His lips were warm and soft and tasted like peppermint mocha.
I felt like every light on that Christmas tree was suddenly blazing inside my chest.
Then reality crashed back in.
I pulled away so fast I nearly lost my balance, staring up at Cooper’s stunned face with growing horror. What had I just done? I’d kissed him. In public. At a community event where half the town could see us. Including his sister, who made it clear years ago that this was absolutely not okay.
“I’m sorry,” I said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just—the tree was so beautiful, and you were so sweet about helping, and I got carried away, and—”
“Joy,” he started, but I was already backing away from him, my face burning with embarrassment.
“I should go,” I said, hating how my voice cracked. “I need to check on the vendors, make sure everything’s running smoothly. Thank you again for everything.”
And then I did what I had done fifteen years ago after our kiss at graduation. I ran.
I pushed through the crowd, mumbling apologies to people I bumped into, trying to get as far away from Cooper’s shocked face as possible. My lips were still tingling, my heart was racing, and all I could think was that I had just ruined everything.
The friendship we had been rebuilding was destroyed by one impulsive, electric, absolutely perfect kiss.
I was such an idiot. And the worst part? Even as I was running away from him again, part of me was wishing I’d stayed to see what he would have said next. Or where that kiss would have taken us. I knew where I wanted it to go but that was bad. No sex with my friend’s hot brother.