Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Noelle
“This is very unlike you, McCallister,” I say, glancing at him with a teasing smile. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love this, but the last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable.”
The town looks like something straight out of a Christmas movie—twinkle lights strung from every building, wreaths on every door, and the soft glow of shop windows casting a magical warmth over the snow-dusted streets.
Maple Ridge has always been charming, but this time of year? It’s pure magic. And tonight, I’m sitting in the middle of it, in a carriage made to look like a sleigh, with Jacob right beside me.
He’s not saying much—classic Jacob—but there’s a softness in his expression as he takes it all in. The gentle clip-clop of the horse pulling us through the town square blends with the distant sound of Christmas carols, and for a moment, everything feels perfect.
“Seeing you happy is all I need,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “Plus, this isn’t an in-your-face holiday. It’s . . . just enough.”
I laugh softly. “It’s the same stuff I put up at my place.”
“Yeah, but you do it in a ten-square-foot space. This is a whole town. There’s a difference,” he says, half-smirking.
“So the ratio matters, huh?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
He nods, pretending to be serious. “I’m just saying there has to be balance.”
I lean back, my gaze following the twinkling lights above us. “I’m really going to miss this,” I say, almost to myself. “I’m heading back to New York next week for three days, then off to California. By the time I’m back in town, all the decorations will be gone.”
He eyes me, his expression turning a little suspicious. “You’re staying with me for those three days, right?”
“That’s the idea,” I tease, “unless you can’t handle my holiday enthusiasm. Twenty-four hours of Jingle Bells, nonstop, until you drive me to the airport.”
Jacob chuckles, but I can’t shake the thoughts pressing at the back of my mind. Wednesday. The day of the gala. There’s still so much left to do—missing auction items, a seating chart that’s nowhere near finalized, and a caterer who’s been driving me insane. It feels like I’ve been planning this forever, and now I’m racing against the clock.
“We’re still celebrating Grumpmass, aren’t we?” he asks, his tone softer now, his hand sliding into mine.
My heart flutters at the warmth of his touch. “We are,” I say, my voice quieter. I want this to work. I want us to work. I want him to be the guy I spend this Christmas with. Maybe even more than just this Christmas.
“Are you sure you can’t stay for the holiday?” he asks, and I can hear the hope in his voice.
I shake my head, feeling a pang of guilt. “My family and I are flying to California on Thursday to spend Christmas with Val. So . . . Tuesday’s basically the only day Grumpmass can happen.”
Jacob smirks, the corner of his mouth lifting in that familiar, grumpy-yet-endearing way. “Grumpmass? I can’t believe you called it that.”
I grin, leaning into him just a little more. “Yeah, you know, the substitute Christmas we’re spending together because well, you’re the grump next door.”
He squeezes my hand gently, and in that moment, with the twinkling lights above us and the soft sound of carols in the air, I can’t help but hope for something more than just a holiday fling. I want him to be my person. My Christmas, and maybe my always.
“Right,” he says with a chuckle. “I’ll do my best to live up to the title.”
I shake my head, smiling as I lean into him a little more. The cold air nips at my cheeks, but being close to him makes everything feel warmer. And even though I know there’s still a lot up in the air—work, the gala, the fact that I’m technically homeless—for the first time in a while, I feel . . . steady.
“It’s been a while since things felt this . . . peaceful.” I kiss his cheek. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“For what?” he asks, his brow lifting.
“For everything,” I say, resting my head against his shoulder. “For trying. For making me feel . . . enough.”
Jacob doesn’t say anything for a moment, but the way he squeezes my hand says more than words could. The carriage turns a corner, and we pass by the big Christmas tree in the center of town, its lights twinkling like stars. I close my eyes, breathing in the crisp air, letting myself enjoy this one perfect moment.
Somehow I feel like even without Grumpmass or Christmas, we’re going to be just fine.