Page 73 of The Holiday Makeover

Well . . . right now he was more like my ex-ex.

Cami stepped closer and lowered her voice. “You know, we have an Ex-Files chapter in Aspen Lake if you ever need anything.”

I bit my lip and tightened my grip on my hot chocolate, silently praying to every herald angel in heaven that I wouldn’t need to join a breakup support group or have Tate digitally replaced by a jackass. Or feel like one myself for thinking Tate and I could actually make it work this time.

“Thank you,” I whispered. Don’t ask me why I said it so reverently. Maybe because I felt like I was one solemn nod away from pledging myself to a sorority of sisters bound by broken hearts.

Cami looked toward the stage and then back at me. “Here’s my card with my personal number on it.”

Oh geez. Was she predicting my future here?

“Cami,” Noah groaned, as if this were a regular occurrence for her.

She paid him no heed. “Seriously, I’m here if you need anything.”

I reluctantly took the card, hoping I hadn’t just sealed my fate.

Noah shook his head but grinned all the same. “By the way, I have plenty of clients who would love to work with you if you’re interested. Not sure if you still do interior design.”

“Actually, I do. And I’m moving back to Aspen Lake.”

“Excellent.” He fished out a card of his own and handed it to me. “Feel free to reach out. I’d be happy to throw some business your way, though I’m guessing you’re probably booked solid.”

I was. But it never hurt to make connections.

I took his card too. “Thank you both. It was so nice to meet you.”

They returned the sentiment, and then they were off.

By the time our exchange ended, the crowd had swelled and the VIPs were gathering on the stage. I rose onto my tiptoes, trying to spot Tate.

Just then, my phone buzzed in my crossbody bag. I assumed it was Lily, still trying to track me down. But after fumbling one-handed with my hot chocolate, I pulled out my phone and found this message:

Tate: Where are you?

I was quick to respond, absurdly happy to know he was thinking of me and looking for me, just like he said he would.

Me: I’m standing on the fountain’s edge in a pink beanie, holding my I Heart Tate poster high in the air. Just kidding. But I’ll try to remember to bring one next time.

If things kept going the way they were, I had a feeling there would be a lot of next times. A lot of opportunities for me to step out of the shadows and try my hand at sharing a little of the spotlight with Tate.

Would I ever get comfortable there?

Or at least stop feeling like I was crawling out of my skin?

Tate: I don’t need the poster. Just you. But maybe next time I’ll wear an I Heart Rory shirt. I do heart you.

Me: I heart you too.

Those words felt wonderful and dangerous all at once.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Tate

Ismiled at Rory’s message.

I heart you too.