Chapter 31
Fredrik
She’d really meant it. Noelle had bought giant sacks of flour and sugar, enough butter to clog a thousand arteries, and turned my kitchen into a commercial bakery.
She’d called her sister on the landline to confirm the family recipe and borrowed a commercial-grade mixer from someone I didn’t even know.
“I promise I won’t get in your way! I’ll bake when you’re not around, and we’ll host this thing outside the Christmas store so that it won’t affect the bookstore,” she said, trying in vain to hide her mountain of supplies.
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “It’s temporary anyway.”
I wasn’t even sure I cared if it was permanent.
I loved the smell of cinnamon and cardamom that drifted through the house.
I loved her. Those words had started sneaking into my mind at random moments, filling my chest with a glow.
She was everything I hadn’t known I was missing.
And the more she threw herself into town events, the more hope built in me.
Maybe she’d stay. I couldn’t be everything to another person, but perhaps she’d find whatever she needed in Hideaway Harbor.
So far, I’d kept my thoughts to myself. Jackson was right. Pushing her to make a choice or handing out ultimatums was not the answer. She was scared and unable to see the life we could have together, the one I now saw glimpses of.
I needed her to relax in my home. She wouldn’t even slide a bottle of lotion into the bedroom drawer I’d cleared for her but kept her things in two canvas bags for what she called our “sleepovers”.
I only had myself to blame. My knee-jerk reaction to her store makeover, plus that stupid friends-with-benefits agreement, must’ve convinced her I couldn’t handle even a nightstand out of place. Or maybe she was already planning her exit, and I was too blind to see it.
The thought terrified me, but I wouldn’t let it ruin what we had. Forcing answers was never going to work. I had to be patient.
We led very different lives that somehow fit together perfectly.
While I pushed snow, split logs and sat in my armchair re-reading an old book, she’d crocheted Santa hats for the caroling event, and weird-looking vaginas for the adult toy store.
But whenever we were in the same room, we gravitated together.
If I lay on the couch, she climbed on top of me.
If she stood in the kitchen, I snuck up to hug her from behind. I couldn’t get enough of her.
She never pushed me to join her at any event, but I came along anyway, to see her delight and excitement.
We’d celebrated the day school was out with Kailee, taking her out for hot chocolates at the Sip.
I even joined Noelle at the caroling event and the Woolen Sock Run.
I had to admit, Hideaway Harbor put on some entertaining functions.
The more I showed up, the easier it felt, even with the long looks from the locals.
I knew there were videos online. Rumors were circulating. But so far, nothing had come of it, and we were happy in our bubble, stealing every available moment to be together, keeping each other warm at night.
And now Noelle was ready for Pulla Appreciation Day with fifteen baskets of sweet Finnish cardamom bread—braided loaves and rolls she’d baked all night.
My kitchen had never been that hot. When her boss said no to hosting the event at the Christmas store, I offered to host it outside my bookstore instead.
Technically, her store had to stay open according to her contract, but since Kailee had already finished school, she could manage it for the day.
“You don’t have to do that,” Noelle told me as I gathered a stack of baskets to load them into the car. “Being able to use your kitchen is enough.”
“Don’t be silly.” I shoved the front door open with my shoulder. “It’ll be faster this way.”
When we reached the bookstore, my sister was already waiting with trestle tables. The morning sun was bright, but darker clouds loomed on the horizon. I hoped they stayed back.
Noelle ran ahead to greet Felicity, helping her unload the van.
I carried baskets, but she insisted I could leave once the setup was done.
She was still worried about forcing me into uncomfortable situations, but she didn’t understand that I was no longer the same man I’d been when we met.
I could barely remember what life felt like before she showed up.
Ten days with her, and I had no comfort zone to return to. She was my comfort zone.
I lingered inside the bookstore, watching through the window as she arranged pulla and thermoses of hot drinks on the red tablecloths flapping in the wind.
The Christmas calendar admin, Miriam, carted in her oversized calendar, and soon people began arriving.
Usually, these calendar events were hosted inside businesses, so they’d get extra sales.
Noelle’s setup was nonsensical. She was serving free food on the sidewalk, all paid for out of her own pocket, to people who would grab it and then wander off.
I felt a flash of anger on her behalf. Didn’t they realize how hard she’d worked? How much she’d spent? They weren’t even looking at her and at the beautiful table she’d set up, their noses held up high.
It took me a moment to realize they weren’t ignoring the baking—they were looking at the sky. The storm had rolled in fast. A burst of hail pelted the tables.
I rushed outside, flinging the door open so hard it smacked an old man’s shoulder. “Noelle! Let’s move it all inside!”
Noelle’s eyes went wide, then she nodded, springing into action. Felicity and Miriam joined, and together we managed to save the baskets of pulla. The tablecloths took the worst hit, but they’d dry quickly.
Inside, we faced a new problem: there was no space. People kept coming anyway, piling in between the bookshelves like sardines.
Jackson stumbled in, brushing ice from his coat. “You could’ve moved some shelves to make room.”
“It was supposed to be outside!” Felicity snapped. “Did you not notice the weather change?”
He shrugged. “It was in the forecast, if you know where to look.”
We compromised by clearing my checkout counter and wedging another table beside it. Miriam set up her giant calendar by the armchairs, waiting to rip the page at ten o’clock. It was crowded as hell, but at least people weren’t being pummeled by ice bullets.
Noelle joined me behind the counter. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You don’t have to be here. You can go upstairs. This will be over soon.”
She wore an emerald-green dress under her fluffy peach jacket, her long braid unraveling as damp strands clung to her temples. She looked sweet and wild, the way she’d looked like in the sauna, and my heart swelled. I was in over my head.
“It’s okay.” I slipped a hand under her jacket, pulling her closer for a second. “Do what you need to do. I’ll stay out of the way.”
I retreated toward the back with Jackson, leaving the women to handle the counter.
More people kept arriving. I heard a language that definitely wasn’t English.
Probably the Finns she’d told me about, who always traveled from miles away for pulla.
Noelle had worried about impressing them, but the blond ladies dropping harsh consonants wasn’t the main act.
“It’s Brody King,” someone hissed.
Sure enough, the Hollywood star himself stood in the middle of my bookstore, surrounded by eager fans. I knew he was from Hideaway and remembered him vaguely from my school days, but he hadn’t shown his face here in years. Why now?
Was he here for pulla, too?
Across the store, Noelle’s eyes locked on mine, shell-shocked. She mouthed something I couldn’t decipher. We all waited for Miriam to ceremoniously rip the calendar page for December 20th, declaring it was five days until Christmas.
The air grew thick with the smell of baking, layered with perfume and bad breath.
Paper plates and cups piled up on my bookshelves even though Noelle hustled around with a trash bag.
The crowd around Brody grew louder. Why had I ever balked at a few Christmas decorations? This was objectively far worse.
When Brody and his entourage finally left, I exhaled in relief. Little did I know that the true disaster was still walking toward my door.
A man in a tailored wool coat and leather gloves stepped in. My gaze snapped to his face, and my chest seized.
Spencer Alford. Same self-important air and glossy helmet hair I remembered from the article.
He scanned the room and brushed past me without a flicker of recognition.
Where was Noelle?
I spotted her crouched near the brown bookshelf, picking up another napkin someone had tossed like my store was a trash can.
Spencer zeroed in on her like a hunter on his target, and I surged forward. Whether on legs or pure adrenaline, I wasn’t sure, but I had to get there. I had to protect her.
Noelle jumped up to stand, grasping the bookshelf as she laid eyes on him. “Spence! What are you doing here?”