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“You were crazy about that girl when you were six. The minute she came back, it was as if no time had passed. That doesn’t happen twice—not with the same person.” He paused. “You won’t know what this could be unless you talk about it. Unless you try.”

Reece exhaled slowly. “Part of me is afraid of her answer.”

“From everything we know about her,” Harry said gently, “she’s used to being let down by the people she loves. Don’t add your name to that list.”

Reece stared down at his hands. “What if she’s not on the same page? What if I say something and she’s not ready? Maybe this is just… a holiday thing to her.”

Harry leaned back with a sigh. “That’s the risk. Do you love her?”

Reece nodded. “I do. I still can’t believe how fast it happened.”

“I met your mother on a Tuesday and proposed on Sunday,” Harry said casually.

Reece blinked. “You’re kidding.”

Harry shook his head. “I was twenty-one. She was nineteen. Everyone thought we were crazy—but we knew.” He met Reece’s gaze. “Just like you know.”

Reece swallowed. “I don’t even know if she loves me.”

“Then tell her how you feel,” Harry said simply. “If you think she’s leaving, what are you waiting for?”

“Reece Harrison Barrett!”

He groaned as his mother swept back into the room. “What?”

“You haven’t told that sweet girl you love her?” she demanded. “What are you waiting for?”

“I just asked him that,” Harry said dryly. “It’s like she never listens to me.”

“Oh, I listen,” Marlene shot back. “No one listens to me.”

Reece and his father exchanged a look.

“You need to talk to her,” Harry said again.

“It’s Christmas,” Reece argued. “There’s no time. There’s too much going on.”

His father shrugged. “You never know. Maybe Santa will surprise you.”

Reece huffed a laugh. “Santa? Really?”

“Never get too old to believe in a little Christmas magic, son.”

Before Reece could respond, Marlene was already unrolling kitchen designs across the table—effectively ending the conversation.

Which, at the moment, was probably for the best.

eleven

“And that’s a wrap on Christmas shopping,” Martin said, waving to the last customer before locking the door behind them. “What a day.”

Alesha moved through the store, straightening displays and re-shelving books. “I wasn’t sure you’d ever close. Those last few customers looked ready to move in.”

He chuckled. “I know, but I don’t mind. It means people feel welcome here.” He stepped behind the counter and started closing out the register. “And it’s nice knowing we’re getting out of here on time for our special Christmas Eve.”

She glanced over at him. “You’ve been very secretive about that. I wish you’d let me help. I’ve had plenty of free time while you’ve been working nonstop.”

He waved her away. “Nonsense. This is my busy season. And besides, this is the first Christmas I've had to host for you in twenty years. I want to do it right.”