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“Maybe I should go home,” I say.
Norah looks over her shoulder into the backseat and glares at me. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I’m feeling a little woozy,” I say.
“It’s the eggnog. I told you that you were being heavy-handed with the brandy,” Hannah tells Norah.
“We were drinking her sorrows away. I did what I had to do,” Norah huffs.
Willa takes my hand and holds it tightly. “Just breathe,” she coaches.
I do as she said and take several calming breaths.
I’m being ridiculous. So we had a passionate night together. We are two single, consenting adults.
“You look like you’re going to hurl. Pull it together, girl. You have no reason to feel awkward,” Norah encourages.
“I know. I just didn’t expect to see him again.”
“It’s the lake working its magic again,” Hannah assesses.
I laugh. “It’s a hiccup in Isaac’s plans. I’m sure he’ll find their passports, and they’ll be on the next flight to France.”
Norah points at me. “You have no faith in the lake. We know different.”
Willa looks at me and shrugs. “She’s right. It works in mysterious ways. Even if he does leave in a day or so, you have now. Enjoy it.”
She’s right. Even if it’s only another twenty-four hours, I look forward to more time with Isaac and Cobie.
A gift. Thanks, Santa.
Sammy parks at the inn, and as we step out onto the driveway, a whirl of bouncing curls comes flying in our direction.
“Whoa,” I bellow as Cobie barrels into me and wraps her arms around my legs.
“We didn’t leave, Sela,” she cries.
I look down at her. “I can see that.”
She lets me go and takes a step back. “Daddy’s upset,” she says.
“What about you?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I’m sad for him, but I like it here.”
Norah steps beside her and tousles her hair. “Well, we’re happy you’re still around, kiddo. You’ve been a big help, and we still have a ton of stuff to do before the Christmas Market next weekend. Are you up to the task?” Norah asks, raising an eyebrow at Cobie.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m ready!”
She follows Norah to the front door just as Isaac emerges. He moves aside so they can enter the inn, and then he looks skyward, squeezes his eyes shut, and blows out a long, frustrated breath. A hand tugging at his rumpled hair.
He looks weary.
I take a couple of timid steps forward when his eyes open and his gaze turns in my direction.
“Hi,” I say.
He doesn’t return the greeting. Instead, he darts down the stairs, picks me up off my feet, and crushes me against him in a hug. My hands go to his neck, and I hold him tightly.
