Page 84 of The Naughty List Agreement

“I’ve never enjoyed December as much as this year,” she admitted, kissing him. “Thank you.”

“No problem. What’s different about this year?” he asked. The pulse of Gold Lumen had grown stronger in recent days, steadying the coffers in a way that Black Lumen never could. The Yearweave had begun to pulse with renewed strength. What surprised him the most was how personal it felt. As his world expanded around Cora, so did the light, quietly strengthening as if the season and the Yearweave approved.

“You are. I’m beginning to think I made a huge mistake firing you all those years ago.”

“I’m not so sure. You wouldn’t have listened to anything I had to say back then. It’s only now that you’ve got the festival to the level it’s at that you’re looking to expand it again. But not in terms of space or toys or food.”

“In terms of what then?”

“Community. You’re connecting to the people around you, and that’s a very good thing.”

She pulled away from him, getting out of bed and going to put on her robe. She stood there in the faint light from the one lamp they’d had on. She was almost swallowed up by the shadows.

He wondered if she was more comfortable in the dark. He was when talking about his sister.

He wasn’t sure why his mind had gone to Ana but she’d been on his mind a lot recently. She would have had some insights into the situation he found himself in. Ana had always come hard with the truths that Nick was avoiding. What would she say about Cora Quill?

“Yes, but people leave.”

Cora didn’t want to have this conversation with Nick, but the truth was that she wanted him to stay.

Circumstance and chemistry had put them together, and nature had done the rest. Ideologically, however, they were opposites. He embodied every part of the authentic holiday spirit. Though she put on a good show, she was still just getting through December. She liked her job, the sense of accomplishment, and this year being in the toy village she’d seen first-hand how much joy children, families, and all the visitors got from the event she’d planned.

Her cynicism had taken a hit and it had softened her heart toward Christmas. The holiday would never not be tinged with sadness because of her mom’s attitude regarding it. As an adult, Cora saw that her mom had probably been trying to do her best to manage her daughter’s disappointment, but at the same time she felt like a period of innocence had been stolen from her.

Cora hadn’t seen her mom since she’d turned eighteen and left home. Her mom had considered her duty to Cora over when she graduated high school. Cora had won a scholarship and had left for college. Her mom had moved on with a new relationship and her father hadn’t reached out either. Both of her parents seemed to be happy to be rid of their eighteen-year-long obligation. She got it. They hadn’t wanted her and they both had new lives without her.

Cora had done exactly the same, looking back on her childhood and teen years as a sentence she’d had to serve. She’d come out the other side free and had made a success of things.

But she hadn’t realized until recently that she’d been lonely. How had she missed that?

“What if I didn’t leave?” Nick asked softly. “What if I never left?”

Closing her eyes, she considered his question. What would her life look like if he stayed?

What would his?

“I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

“I am, and I’m tired of pretending that I don’t want more from you,” Nick said.

“Okay, what do you want?” she asked. If she had a list of the terms, she could start negotiating the way she’d tried to with their agreement. The one she’d thrown every excuse at to try to weasel out of. She was glad she hadn’t succeeded.

But she was also afraid.

Damn. Was there one moment in her life when fear hadn’t dominated her decision-making? One moment when she’d leapt without looking?

The answer was a loud, resounding no. Plans were her safety blanket. Even planning for things not to work out somehow made her feel better. Her therapist had explained how that thinking was residual from her childhood.

Still…

“I want this. I want you and me together, making plans, doing things in the community together,” he said. “I want you to feel like you can be honest with me. I don’t want us to have any secrets.”

“I’m an open book.”

Except she wasn’t. Who wanted to show their ugliness and flaws? Not her. She preferred her image as the Queen of Christmas, purveyor of the picture-perfect holiday.

“No one is. Not even me. We both have parts of ourself we keep hidden.”