Chapter 54
Graham shook his head frantically as if coming to his senses. “Good grief, what am I saying? Turn my world upside-down, throw away everything I’ve worked for? All because a few days with some Hallmark hunk knockoff have turned my brain into figgy pudding?”
The about-face sent Coco crumbling before his eyes.
“Absolutely not.” He stood up to leave. “Thank you for all you’ve done with this movie premiere, Coco.
Mistletoe Grove owes you a debt of gratitude.
But the fact of the matter is, our work here is done.
” He nodded to declare the matter settled.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to try to finally get some shuteye before we’re due at the airport tomorrow.
I want to see you ready to go first thing in the morning. ”
All at once, Coco’s eyes filled with sadness. “But, Graham, tomorrow’s…Christmas Day.”
“I don’t care what day it is, Coco. First thing in the morning, capeesh?”
A tense silence followed as the two stared each other down.
Finally, Coco relented. “You’re going to regret this, Graham.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Without another word, he took his leave down the hill. Geez, what a close one. For a moment, he’d almost folded. Thank god he’d come to his senses.
Did this feel shitty in the moment? Sure. But that was true of any hard decision. As soon as he was back in LA—back where he belonged—he’d forget all about this harebrained holiday.
You’re doing the right thing, he assured himself. Once this is over, you’re going to be glad you stayed strong.
A sense of calm washed over him as he continued further downhill. To think he’d nearly taken life advice from Hollywood’s most infamous party girl. Imagine what a train wreck he’d nearly made of himself on her account.
The moment he was back at the office, his first order of business would be pawning her off onto some other schmuck at the firm. He’d done his time—now it was some other sucker’s turn to handle Coco’s antics.
You’re going to regret this. The remark triggered a scoff. As if she had any right to tell him how to feel about his actions.
But as he reached the hill’s bottom, an unsettling revelation niggled in his gut. You’re going to regret this—was Coco talking about what he was doing…or something she was now planning to do as a result?
He shook the silly notion away. Man, he really needed to get some rest.
* * *
Graham’s alarm jolted him awake without mercy. Groggy, he sat up on his mother’s basement sofa and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Not exactly the fantasy-come-to-life of starting the day in bed next to Brent, but hey, at least he hadn’t had to bunk with Coco their last night in town.
He shook his head at the thought of their failed charade. Fake dating Coco Holliday—there was one he hadn’t had on his Bingo card this Christmas. He supposed it was par for the course. Nothing about this trip had gone according to plan.
But then, after all, when it came to Coco Holliday, one ought to know to expect the unexpected.
Thank god this trip was almost over.
Rising to his feet, he noticed himself feel lighter. One thing about this misadventure was certain—for as long as he lived, never would he forget this off-the-rails holiday.
As for now, it was onward and upward. LA was waiting—and with it, the job of his dreams.
He turned off his phone’s alarm. Time to fetch Coco.
Climbing the stairs to the main floor, he found himself greeted by a surprisingly empty kitchen.
That’s funny, he thought to himself. Mom always got up early to make breakfast on Christmas Day.
He decided to dismiss the thought. Geez, Graham.
You’re not a kid anymore. Why after all these years of spending the holiday alone would your mother still be getting up early just to cook Christmas morning?
He did his best to ignore the guilt that lodged in his throat then. He sure hoped his mother would join the living soon. It wouldn’t be long before he and Coco needed to blow this popsicle stand.
His instructions to her echoed in his head. Be ready first thing in the morning. Now would be the moment of truth. Not that he was holding his breath. He could picture it already—his posh, pampered princess, pink eye mask in place, sawing logs like a beaver prepping for the Great Flood.
Ah, the life of a star.
“Time to get up, Coco,” he said to his bedroom door after marching up the stairs.
He waited.
Nothing.
He rapped on the door, impatience mounting. “Rise and shine, Coco. Time to hit the road.”
But just as before, he was met with silence.
An uneasy feeling rose inside him. This was starting to feel a bit too familiar for his liking.
He furrowed his brow, tensing. She wouldn’t…
With a burst of force, he threw the door open.
And felt his blood pressure skyrocket.
Apparently, Coco would.
Because, as fate would have it, she had.
Graham cursed as he gawked like an idiot at his empty childhood bedroom for the second time now in the past twelve hours.
Once again, Coco Holliday was nowhere to be found.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Almost as if on cue, a familiar chime dinged in his pocket. He fished out his phone to discover a text.
From, of course, the one and only Coco.
Morning, sunshine! Hope I didn’t give you a scare, but I thought I’d let you sleep in.
He rolled his eyes and read on.
Promise you won’t hate me, but I just HAD to grab one last cup of Brent’s delicious hot cocoa for the road. Pick me up at The Cozy Mug? Thanks, doll!!!
He resisted the urge to chuck his phone at the wall. Coco knew just what she was doing.
But it wasn’t going to work.
Summoning his willpower, Graham thumbed his response calmly:
See you in ten.
Repocketing his phone, he inhaled a centering breath. Stay strong, Graham, he recited to himself. Whatever you do, you’ve got to stay strong.
* * *
Pulling into a streetside parking spot, Graham cut the ignition on their rental car, packed and ready to go with their luggage. For him, a sensible carry-on. For Coco, seven checked bags. Spacious interior, my foot, he cursed in his head as he recalled the agent’s promise.
Sardine-worthy legroom aside, it was, Graham had to admit, a picturesque Christmas morning. The rising sun bathed the town square in light, reflecting crystalline sparkles off the snow-blanketed ground.
A guy could almost get used to this.
Immediately, he shook the thought away. Don’t you go falling for this holiday magic crap again, Graham. Just do what you need to do and then get the hell out of here.
He tapped the steering wheel anxiously as he narrowed his eyes at The Cozy Mug ahead. You can do this, Graham. Just walk in, get Coco, and bid Brent a respectful goodbye.
Ideally, without getting lost in those deep, dreamy, chestnut eyes of his.
He mustered up his courage as he exited the car. You’re making the right decision, he beat into his head as he marched his way down the sidewalk. In just a few hours, you’ll be LA-bound, and you’ll never have to think about this holly jolly backwater again.
Resolute, he swung open the shop door.
And nearly jumped out of his skin at the scene awaiting him inside.
The entire town of Mistletoe Grove—or at least, as much of it as would fit in Brent’s shop—greeting him in unison with a big, happy “Merry Christmas!”