Page 79 of Not Home Alone

“Are you sure?”

“Well, I did go to business school, and I am a business consultant. The only thing I am one hundred percent sure of right this second is that if I can’t at least touch your boobs in the next minute, I will go back to hating Christmas. Your boss will probably guilt trip you and tell you to wrap up your events, which you can do remotely. But you can absolutely give January fifth as your last day.”

“She’ll be furious. We have so many New Year’s parties coming up and then Q1 corporate conferences and Super Bowl events…”

I rub her back to calm her down, and also because I need to touch her. I would prefer to rub her boobs, but rules are rules. “She very well may be mad, but that’s okay. Those parties and events will still happen without you. I’m sure you’re very important to the company, but it’s not your company.”

She nods. “You’re right. I know. You’re right.” She sucks in a breath. “Okayyyyyyy. Here goes!” She sends the email and then squeaks as she shuts her laptop.

Thank. God.

“How do you feel?” I ask her.

She places her laptop on the rug. “Nervous. Excited. Relieved. Tired? But really excited.” She maneuvers herself on my lap, straddling me and guiding my hands under her sweatshirt. At last. “I was thinking I can clean out the basement at our—at my dad’s house—and live there to save money. Or, I don’t know what rent’s like here, maybe I can move in with Joy! Oh my god, Grant, we could meet for lunch on Main Street some days, maybe!”

“Merrily…”

“Shhh. We don’t have to talk about it anymore tonight. We need to celebrate.”

I start to tell her about New York, but we do need to celebrate. And I can’t even start the sentence because she’s kissing me. And I don’t ever want her to stop.

TWENTY-FIVE

MERRILY

In a beautiful wink from the universe, when I walked into The Christmas Barn a minute ago, Michael Bublé was frantically jingling the bells from the radio behind the checkout counter. It’s unreal how much has changed since the last time I heard this song. I just told my dad the news, but I don’t think he can hear me over the daddle-doodle-daddling. So I decide to wait thirty seconds for the song to be over before trying again.

“What was that, honey?” he hollers, as he hands a customer her shopping bag. “I couldn’t hear you over the daddle-doodle-daddling!”

It’s so busy in the store today, it makes my heart race with pride and hope. Or more likely it’s a relentless big band harmonizing-induced panic attack again.

I take a deep breath and, in the silence between songs, I tell him, “I gave my two-week notice last night. For my job in Ann Arbor. I spoke with my boss this morning, and she’s not thrilled, but she only wants me to help transition the two New Year’s events I’m the lead on, and I can do it from here!”

My dad’s usually happy, enthusiastic face looks confused. “Did you get another job in Ann Arbor?”

“What? No! I’m moving back to Holly Grove!” I place my hands on his shoulders. “I don’t know what I’ll do for a job yet, but as you always say—everything will work out! I have faith, and I’m ready to take the leap. I have some money saved. Not tons, but since I didn’t end up having to pay for the Home Alone House, I have a decent emergency fund that would have lasted six months in Ann Arbor paying rent. I was thinking I could stay in the guest room for a while once Connie’s family is gone. Until I figure out a more permanent living situation.”

I can’t tell if he’s happy or sad or if he’s still confused.

It’s very possible that he can’t hear me through all those ear hairs.

“Do you understand what I’m saying? I’m going to move back home. I can help out here sometimes, set up the online store. Because I love it in Holly Grove, and I know I’ll be happier here.”

He gives me one of his signature smiles and big, warm hugs. “Sweetheart, this is all I’ve wanted for years and years.”

“I know. There’s nothing keeping me away from here anymore.”

“What about Grant?”

Suddenly, it feels like my face isn’t big enough to contain my smile and my chest isn’t big enough to contain my heart. I pull him to a corner and whisper into his ear, “It’s still a secret, so you can’t tell anyone—but he’s going to move back too!”

My dad cups my face in his hands. “Well, gosh, I’m just thrilled for you, sweetheart. Absolutely thrilled. Have you told your mom and her people yet?”

“No, I’ll email her next. I wanted to tell you first.”

“Aww, she’ll hate that,” he says, smiling. “And of course you can stay with us. I’m sure April would be happy to share your old room with you,” he says, with a sly half-grin.

“I would rather sleep with the spiders in the basement, but I will say that I think she and I have grown on each other. Like excess ear, eyebrow, and nose hair.”