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Patrick raises his eyebrows. “You’re putting on what?”

“He’s not serious?”

“It’s okay. He’s got a lot to learn,” I practically giggle, pushing my sister from the room and looking back just in time to whisper, “Good night.”

He waves at me from his spot on my bed.

In this context, in my childhood home, wearing a soft T-shirt and a pair of soft sweatpants, he looks like a completely different person. No longer the Patrick from the office, the CEO and strategist who was willing to do anything to get his hands on that company.

“Oh my God,” Kristin says, the moment we’re alone in the guest room together. She throws another pillow at me, still laughing. “Are you actually, like, in love with him?”

I catch the pillow, hug it to my chest and pause, ignoring her groans as a smile breaks out over my face.

When was the last time I felt this light? This alive? This excited about waking up the next morning?

Patrick is there for Christmas Eve morning, and pancakes with red and green chocolate chips. He’s there for our morning ice skating excursion, the trip to the little nativity scene downtown, and finally as we tuck into several booths at the local Chinese restaurant.

“I’ve never heard of this tradition before,” Patrick says, sliding in beside me and looking around. I know he grew up with money, and I wonder if he’s even ever been to a Chinese buffet like this.

“I’m pretty sure other families do this,” Autumn says, pointing at Patrick with a piece of cantaloupe speared on her fork. Then she points it at Mom and Dad. “Hey, other families do this stuff, right? The Chinese buffet thing?”

“It doesn’t matter! Because we do it!” Liam says, stuffing a chicken nugget in his mouth and throwing his arms out.

“He’s learned that big declarations make Grandma happy,” Bianca mutters, just as Mom leans in and squeezes Liam, saying, “That’s right, smart boy!”

Patrick laughs and shakes his head, and at that moment, I feel—because our thighs are pressed together under the table—his phone start to buzz in his pocket. He glances down at it, sliding it out slightly, and I catch sight of the name on the phone.

David.

I barely manage to stifle a dramatic gasp. But really—why would David be calling him? I assumed all the Morenos were pretty upset with us, considering that big scene that happened. I felt sorry for Patrick because I thought that he and David had started kindling a friendship.

Apparently, that was right. And if David is calling him now, that could mean he has a chance at making the sale after all.

I see Patrick deliberate, staring down at his phone, and I almost nudge him, almost tell him to take it, that it’s okay⁠—

But he silences the phone before I’m able to say anything. When he raises his gaze, he jumps a little in surprise, clearly not expecting me to be watching him so closely.

“Sorry,” he whispers, clearing his throat.

I think about that night in the living room, that almost kiss where he took the call from Chris. And he hadn’t even sunk so much effort at that point.

“Cami, I—” Patrick starts. I don’t say anything, but I surge forward and press a quick kiss to his lips, which makes Amelia gag and declare Yuck!

For the rest of the night, I can’t stop smiling. Patrick sneaks off at some point, apparently to give his card to the woman at the front desk and cover the meal for everyone. My Dad makes a big fuss about it, but I can tell that Mom is impressed.

Kristin nudges me as we stand by the door, tugging on our hats and gloves, and whispers under her breath, “Way to go, Cami. Hot and rich.”

I shove her and she dramatically knocks into Bianca, who waggles her eyebrows at me, clearly picking up on the little argument between us. Within two seconds flat, Autumn is there, too, and all three sisters are teasing me about Patrick as we wait for him to come out of the bathroom.

“You never looked like this with Jeremy,” Autumn says, as we burst out into the crisp night air and head for our respective vehicles.

“You made the right call with that,” Bianca says.

“Yeah, clearly.” Kristin rolls her eyes, like she’s always known this.

We clamber into the cars together and ride back home, and as our little town passes in a blur of flashing lights on the other side of the window, I think that this might just be the best Christmas Eve of my entire life.

CHAPTER 33