Read The Holiday Makeover Online Free by Jennifer Peel

I turned in his arms, my eyes already filled with tears. “Do you mean that, Tate? Am I your home?”

“You always have been.” His voice was low and thoughtful. “I was just too blinded by my own insecurities to see it.”

I ran my hands up his taut chest and around his neck. “Well, welcome home, then.”

Chapter Forty

Rory

My cheeks were starting to hurt from all the smiling.

So were my feet from all the standing.

Wearing heels was probably not my smartest decision, but the evergreen silk pumps went perfectly with my velvet wrap dress.

I’d been in the entryway for what felt like hours, greeting what felt like the entire town. Every time the front door opened, a gust of December air swept in with another cluster of people bundled in wool coats, snow-dusted boots, and scarves. Everyone smelled faintly of Christmas. A mixture of pine, peppermint, and dare I say spirits—and not the ghostly kind. Behind me, the house glowed with new lighting, fresh garland, candles, and the low hum of Christmas music drifting in from the parlor.

It was beautiful.

And overwhelming.

Don’t even get me started on the saltwater situation happening on my face. My cheeks were tear-streaked, and my eyes had to be a puffy mess.

Everyone seemed to have a Coco story they wanted to share with me.

Lifelong friends told me about how they used to sneak out of school and smoke cigarettes under the bleachers. Or how, while wearing their cheerleading uniforms, they had once mooned the football players.

All I could say was, Go, Coco.

Most of the anecdotes were sweet and not salacious. Stories of Coco helping people grieve the loss of a child because she knew exactly how that felt. Stories of her showing up with cinnamon pie, inappropriate jokes, and the kind of hug that made people believe they might survive after all. Stories about how no one could make them laugh like Coco.

And, of course, people loved to talk about how much she had loved Tate and me.

Tate, who stood by my side, held my hand, and kept a steady stream of tissues coming my way. He looked more than dashing in his dark suit and no tie, his hair slightly rumpled in that messy but stylish way.

It was funny to hear so many people say, “We knew you two kids would end up together.”

I was glad someone had known. For a long time, I hadn’t been so sure. But I was sure now.