Chapter 37
Chapter thirty-seven
Liam
As I pull into the city limits of Noel, I’m shocked by the transformation of the town.
Of course, I’ve watched all of the decorations and booths being installed this month.
I helped Clark and Davis build some of those temporary structures earlier this week.
I’d seen the vision for what Christmas Fest would be.
But that didn’t prepare me to see the vision of Christmas Fest.
I’ve always had slightly more positive than neutral feelings toward Christmas.
I enjoy it for what it is without overly obsessing like it’s the greatest holiday to ever happen to mankind.
But the festival grounds are slowly infecting me with their Christmas magic as I drive past the center of town.
Even Hamlet is perched on his hind legs in the passenger seat, watching the twinkling lights out the window.
All the main streets are blocked off to cars, keeping pedestrians entirely safe, so I take a roundabout way to the rental house to drop Hamlet off. I get him situated with some water and food, and then I drive back to one of the parking zones close to the festival.
The magic seeps deeper into my bones as I walk through the thick of it.
Thousands of lights, dozens of decorated trees, statues and figurines tastefully scattered throughout the area.
Photo ops—some classic and some whimsical—are interspersed along the sidewalks.
There’s a massive “Merry Christmas” banner of lights strung across Main Street, welcoming people to the true heart of the action.
Santa’s Workshop is central to the space, where local artisans sell their goods to tourists seeking gifts or keepsakes.
There’s a tent set up where children can write their letters to Santa and drop them into the letterbox for Sunday’s sendoff.
According to the map, there’s a Living Nativity close to the reindeer enclosure on the riverbank, along with a small carousel rounding out the children’s area.
And, of course, there are the food and beverage booths—Becky’s Brews with coffee drinks, the bake club stand with sweet treats, and several shops serving various entrées.
I smile when I see a booth advertising traditional mulled wine as well as mulled apple cider. The parade won’t start for another hour, but the grounds are already filled to the brim with crowds of families—some looking like they’ve been here before, and others carefully studying the festival map.
The only thing that isn’t magical about this Christmas wonderland is who’s missing.
I sent Madison a handful of texts this week—some of which she sent short replies to, and some that were left on read.
At this point, I’m not even sure what I’ll say to her when she gets back on Monday.
I want her to stay so badly—more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time.
Maybe ever. But I don’t know how to convince her, especially if she doesn’t want my help.
Unfortunately, she didn’t tell any of our friends here about the job offer. She made up an excuse about needing to stay through the weekend with her family. No one here even knows to be worried that the spark of joy Madison’s presence has brought to Noel might be flickering out.
I don’t realize I’m staring off into space until there’s a squeeze on my arm. Clara is standing next to me, positively beaming with Christmas spirit. “It’s pretty special, huh?” she asks me, her gaze sweeping across the festival grounds. “Better than a dream.”
Forcing a smile, I nod in agreement. “It really is impressive seeing it come to life. Well done.”
Clara dismissively waves her hand in the air. “I may have had the original idea, but it’s the entire town’s baby. Everyone has contributed in some way to the magic. Even you,” she says, eyes dancing. “Just wait till you see the parade tonight—move over, Disney, Noel is coming for you.”
We laugh heartily together because we both know that the tiny town of Noel is never going to be a Disney competitor.
But maybe the magic lies in what’s different—how cozy and intimate it feels.
As though you could come back every year and bump into the same strangers who became friends the year before. Friends who slowly become family.
It’s the magic of Noel.
I only hope that Madison decides to be part of the magic—to recognize that she already is part of the magic.
“I wish Madison was here for the kickoff,” I muse aloud, not showing the true depths of my turmoil over her absence.
“Me too,” Clara agrees. “Once you get used to her feisty presence, nothing is the same without it.”
I can’t respond. My throat is too constricted to give my vocal cords any space to speak.
“Good thing she’ll be back next week because Becky is slammed already. I’m going to jump in and help her this weekend, but I think Becky is afraid to hurt my feelings and admit that Mads is a better barista than I am,” Clara says. “Despite the fact that she despises coffee.”
A laugh erupts before I can stop it. Clara looks at me with a confused expression. “MJ hasn’t told you about her dirty little secret, huh?” When Clara’s confusion only grows, I conspiratorially whisper, “She drinks a pour over coffee almost every morning now.”
Clara’s mouth drops open. “Stop it right now! She does not.”
I shrug one shoulder with a smug smile. “She just needed the right kind of coffee to figure out that she likes it.”
At this, Clara’s face softens, and I’d almost swear there are tears in her eyes. “You’ve been so good for her, Liam. You amplify the best in her instead of stuffing it down to make her smaller. I love seeing her with you.”
Now my throat is really constricted. What if Madison decides to stuff down the best of her because she thinks it’s the right thing to do? What if she decides to go backward instead of forward?
What if she picks a different path than me?
“I’m going to go get a drink and walk around a little before the parade starts,” I tell Clara, needing an out from further conversation about Madison. “I’ll see you around.”
I meander the grounds, surprised to find that every nook and cranny off the beaten path has been thoroughly Christmasified.
There’s even an alleyway between two buildings labeled with a sign that says “Mistletoe Lane.” When I take a step in to investigate, I see that there are white Christmas lights crisscrossed from the buildings to form a ceiling of light.
Dozens of sprigs of mistletoe hang from the strands, creating the perfect excuse for a first (or hundredth) kiss.
“You know, I’d kiss you without mistletoe as an excuse.”
I sharply swivel around at the sound of that voice.
The sound of her voice.
That sassy, snarky, cheeky voice.
Madison is wearing a smirk to match her inflection, and everything in me wants to kiss her until she forgets how to ever smirk again. Except, not really, because I love that sass on her lips.
But I need to know what she’s doing here. I need to know what we’re doing before I jump right in to kissing her.
“You’re here?” The statement comes out as a question. A very loaded question.
Why are you here now? How here are you?
The smirk falls from her expression as she slowly steps toward me. “I’m here because I owe you the world’s most massive apology. I was wrong to not tell you that I was struggling and my future here could be in jeopardy.”
“MJ, it’s okay—” I start, but Madison cuts me off.
“No, it’s not okay. I knew what a struggle it was for you to be vulnerable with people—what a big step it was for you to trust me.
I was constantly pushing you to open up, but when I should have been open with you, I hid instead.
I was wrong, and I hurt you. I’m so sorry,” she says with no hint of sarcasm.
My heart drums in my chest, the honesty in her apology filling me with love-fueled adrenaline.
Sass sparks fire in her eyes again as she adds, “I drove to WritInc this morning, and I told Chad exactly where he could put his job offer.”
A sly smile fights its way to my lips. “So cheeky,” I say, and Madison gives me an innocent look.
“I told him he could offer the job to someone else, obviously. What wicked things are you thinking I’d say?” she asks with a toss of her hair.
I still need her to spell things out—to be fully transparent. But I also can’t handle the lack of physical contact between us anymore. I step forward and loop a hand around the small of her back, tugging her to me. Her forest-green sweater is soft beneath my fingers, her warmth seeping through.
“So what are you saying?” I clarify.
“I’m saying that this is home. This is where I want to be.
You. Noel. Our friends. All of it. Even if it’s reckless, even if it’s not the right thing on paper,” she says, running her hands up my chest. “I’m saying I love you madly, so I’ll do whatever it takes to stay here with you.
Because I realized old William was right.
‘For where thou art, there is the world itself.’”
I move a hand to cup her face, tracing my thumb down to rest on her chin. “‘I do love you more than words can wield the matter.’”
Madison’s eyes roll as she drops her head back. “No, no, no, NO! You cannot pull a line about love from Shakespeare’s greatest tragedy! Especially not from that lying, evil excuse for a daughter! This lady doth protest too much!”
Her protests cease, however, as I solder her lips against mine. She returns the kiss with equal fire, with the fervor that results from coming to the brink of losing love.
I kiss her hungrily, greedily, thoroughly, with zero care for whether any tourists have become unwilling spectators. I finally tear our lips apart but press our foreheads together, murmuring, “I love you, Madison Joy. ‘Where thou art not, desolation.’ So please don’t leave again.”
Madison pokes a finger in my chest, pointing straight to my heart. “My path,” she says.
And I kiss her again.
My arms are firmly wrapped around Madison as we stand on the sidelines of the parade, cheering for the floats that pass by. She may have promised that she’s not leaving, but I’m holding her extra tight tonight, just for good measure.
The parade includes floats depicting traditional Christmas movies, the high school marching band playing “The First Noel” on loop, dozens of costumed town residents throwing candy and trinkets to the kids, and finally culminating with Santa and Mrs. Claus.
I burst out laughing when I recognize Clara and Clark on the float—Clark looking far less merry than the jolly old man himself.
“How did Clara convince him to do that?” I ask in Madison’s ear.
“It’s taken two years of begging. He probably only agreed since tomorrow is their first anniversary. I’ll bet you twenty bucks he refuses to do it again after tonight,” she replies.
I shake my head. “I don’t agree to bets I know I’ll lose.”
Madison waves her hands wildly above her head, trying to catch Clara’s eye. When Clara notices, she beams and blows a kiss in our direction. I catch Madison’s raised hand in mine, inspecting her nails.
“All one color, huh?” I observe.
Madison turns to face me, placing both hands on my chest.
“I might go back to painting my ring fingers in an accent color if I feel like it,” she says as she stares at her hands.
She meets my eyes when she says, “I know you said you liked that attitude the first time you kissed me, but you have only yourself to blame for the turnaround. It started as my way of protesting the way Chad treated me at work. It continued as an outlet for the resentment I felt about the injustice that drove me here to Noel. But I don’t have any reason to protest anymore—I have you.
I have our friends and this town. I have people I know will have my back while I figure out how I’m going to survive.
I confronted Chad and laid it to rest. There’s nothing about my life to resent now. ”
I take one of Madison’s hands and press a kiss to her curled fingers. “I love you, MJ. And I’ll more than have your back. I’ll burn the world down to clear a path for you if that’s what it takes. As long as we’re on the path together.”
“No burning necessary,” Madison says with a smirk. “Let’s just hope for a little Christmas magic to take pity on me.”
“You are the magic,” I tell her, voice serious. I trace a thumb across her lips as I say, “I still believe in you, Madison Joy.”
Her eyes glisten with moisture just before she captures my lips with hers.