Mistletoe and Mochas: A Christmas Romance Novella (Hearts of Hollywood Book 2)
Page 9
“Hey now…” He tilted his head, his eyes soft.
If only she could tell the girls they were on their own and spend the evening with Cannon instead, but behind her a horn honked.
“Come on, love birds! Break it up!”
Chelsea tossed a glance over her shoulder and grinned. She was catching a ride with the other bridesmaids and letting him take her car back to his hotel and he was just going to leave his own rental car in the paid parking lot. “I have to go.”
He nodded. Pulled out her keys. But neither of them moved. After a long moment he grinned. “Night, Chelsea.”
“Night.” She forced herself to turn away then, and didn’t even care when the girls gave her a good ribbing after she climbed into the backseat.
How could her world be falling so totally apart and yet feel like it had never been better at the same time?
Havyn and Levi’s Christmas Eve wedding couldn’t have been more beautiful. When the Hawaiian lilies had fallen through, Havyn had chosen to go with red poinsettias instead. They were stunning next to the red and white roses, and offset perfectly by the spruce greenery the florists had chosen. Tiny potted arbor vita, perfectly conical and decorated with red and white lights, adorned the end of every other bench down the main aisle. Soft Christmas carols played from the speakers as Chelsea stood on the platform hoping she wasn’t going to forget any of the things she was supposed to be doing.
She fluffed Havyn’s train, and passed over the ring, and smiled through her moisture-blurred vision as Levi bumbled through his vows blinking back tears of his own, her heart so full of happiness for her friends.
Pastor Chad pronounced them husband and wife and Levi kissed Havyn thoroughly, even bending her over backwards to the cheers of the guests.
Chelsea laughed, certain if she felt any more happiness in that moment her heart would burst. And then she was retreating down the aisle after the happy couple and looked into the audience to find Cannon’s admiring gaze on her. In that moment she knew her happiness hadn’t even been nearly at its full capacity yet.
The reception rooms, festooned with swags of spruce, holly, and mistletoe, soon filled to capacity with happy guests and Chelsea bustled after Havyn, making sure all her needs were taken care of. Bringing her juice. Running to find her comfortable shoes. Fetching her the silk jacket that matched her dress when she rubbed her arms to work away a chill as she chatted with some guests. The decorative cake cutting knife had somehow disappeared, so she hurried to the kitchen to find it or a suitable replacement. And finally the DJ started up the music and Levi pulled his bride out onto the dance floor for their first dance as husband and wife.
Chelsea sighed in contentment as she watched them murmur softly to each other, Havyn’s skirt swooping out around them each time they changed directions. Her duties were almost done and thankfully she hadn’t botched anything too badly. There were no gifts because Havyn and Levi had specifically requested that in lieu of gifts to them, a donation be made to the Seattle Children’s Hospital. Havyn and Levi would need to get on the road soon if they were going to catch their flight to New Zealand tonight. She glanced at her watch. Thirty-five minutes. She needed to remind them then to start heading out.
Someone touched her elbow and she turned to see who it was.
Cannon. Looking more amazing than any man had a right to in his navy blue suit and Christmas red shirt. Her pulse skittered and then nose dived in dread. Their last evening together. “Hi.”
“Have you eaten?”
She smoothed her hands over the velvet of her dress and shook her head. “No. Not yet.”
“Come on.” He tugged on her hand and led her to the buffet, placing a plate into her hands. When her plate was full he directed her to a table where he pulled out a chair and sat beside her. He leaned his elbow onto the table and propped his head onto one fist, studying her obtrusively.
She felt the heat begin to crawl up her neck, and cast him a surreptitious peek.
He grinned. “You look amazing tonight.”
She looked away, feeling terribly shy. “Thank you.” Oh how she was going to miss him!
“It’s Christmas Eve.”
She frowned. Glanced at him. Took another bite of her cold ham. “I know that.”
He pulled an envelope from his pocket. “In my family we always exchanged gifts on Christmas Eve. My dad said it was because we didn’t believe in Santa. I think it was just because he couldn’t wait any longer to see how we liked our gifts.”
She smiled at that. “How sweet.” Curiosity piqued, her gaze dropped to the envelope in his hands.
With a smile, he slid it toward her. “I fly out really early in the morning and I wanted to give this to you before I left.”
She squinted him a look. “I don’t have a gift for you.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t expect you to.”
Slowly, she dragged the envelope closer to her. “This isn’t fair, mister.”
He only grinned.
Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as she lifted the envelope and palpated its contents.
Every year, for as many years as she could remember, Aunt Flo had given her the same gift. A twenty-five dollar gift card to Fred Meyer. Never wrapped. Never a surprise. Just handed it to her on Christmas morning before going back to her room to read while Chelsea fixed lunch for them.
Maybe because of that, she wanted to savor this moment and stretch out the suspense a little.
The envelope was printed with a pile of colorful Christmas presents in one corner. It was bulky and contained something about the thickness of a packet of tissues. Bendable. Didn’t smell like anything much. She peered at him over the top of it.
Cannon chuckled. “Open it.”
Carefully she tucked her fingernail under one corner of the seal and worked it open. Her eyes widened as she pulled the top apart to reveal a stack of one hundred dollar bills. “Cannon! I told you this was too much!”
He only lounged back in his chair, legs stretched out before him, and folded his hands over his stomach. “I heard you.”
“Cannon…”
“You mean a lot to me, Chels. And it would mean even more to me if you let me take care of you right now.” He tilted his head. Scrubbed at his brow with one finger. “Please take the money? It’s a Christmas gift.”
Her pride and hurt over what Aunt Flo had done, battled with the hunger to just let go and let someone else take care of her for a change. And it was only a moment before the latter won. She pressed the envelope to her chest, blinking hard to keep back tears. “Thank you.”
He eased out a breath and seemed to relax. “You’re welcome.”
She tucked the envelope into her purse, feeling more than a little relief and amazement.
A new song started and several people stepped onto the dance floor.
In one languid movement, Cannon rose. “Dance with me?”
She stood and took his hand, but instead of pulling her onto the dance floor, he led her down a short hallway and back into the sanctuary. They were the only ones in there, but the Christmas lights were still on, as well as a few of the canned ones that highlighted the aisles and exits. Just enough luminosity to offer a welcome glow.
The music drifted in softly and Cannon paused at the back of the room and pulled her into his arms. He moved slowly, studying her intently.
She rested her hands against his shoulders. Moved them a little further and found the softness of the curls at his nape.
He tucked her closer and pressed his cheek to her ear. The warmth of his breath fanned over her neck. “I’m going to miss you, Chels.”
She pressed her lips together and offered a tiny nod. “Me too. When is your flight?” She hadn’t wanted to ask exactly when, all week.
“I leave at three a.m.”
The finality of it seemed to sap her strength.
“Seven weeks, Chels. I’ll be back in seven weeks.”He stopped dancing and set her back from him. “I have so
mething else.” He pulled a small square box out of his coat pocket.
Her heart hammered in earnest this time because the box was obviously from a jeweler.
He didn’t hand it to her, but instead flipped open the top and pulled out an intricate filigree ring. He looked up and her panic must have been showing in her face because he hurried to say, “Don’t freak out. This is just a promise ring from me to you. A promise that I’ll be back. A promise that we’ll take things slow. A promise that I hope we’ll have lots more Christmases to explore mochas and” —one corner of his mouth ticked up—”mistletoe.” His brows pumped. “May I?” he reached for her hand.
She smiled softly as he slipped the ring on her right hand. She looked at it, felt it with her thumb. Admired the tiny sapphire embedded in the swirls of silver. Then she melted against him and took the lapels of his jacket in her hands. “It’s beautiful. Too bad there’s no mistletoe around right now so I could give you a proper thank you.”
His brows lifted. “Well, I think we could maybe forego the mistletoe…just this once…” His lips brushed a tiny request for permission against hers.
She lifted up on tiptoe, and smiled before she kissed him. “Maybe…just this once.” With that, she pressed her mouth to his, and contentment enshrouded her like the warmth of spring after a long trek through winter.
Like she had finally come home.
Dear Reader of Mistletoe and Mochas,
Words are such powerful tools. They can buoy someone on the heights of encouragement, or sink someone into the depths of despondency. Hurtful words slice and burrow right down into the very core of who we are and, whether we know it or not, impact how we act and what we believe about ourselves. In Chelsea and Cannon’s story, I hope you’ve been reminded to carefully consider your own words – even the words you speak about yourself. I know I’m often reminded to check my words – too often after I’ve already misspoken. So this Christmas season I hope we’ll all consider the message from 1 Corinthians 13. Do our words convey patience, kindness, and love?
If you enjoyed reading this story, please consider leaving it a review. Reviews help other readers find enjoyable books to read, and will be such a blessing to me! I appreciate you, my readers, so much, and thank you for all you do to help me spread the word about my wholesome stories!
May the desire to be more like our Savior guide us in each moment this Christmas,
Sincerely,
Lynnette Bonner