Mistletoe Baby (Crescent Cove 9.50)

Disappointment carved through me, quick and sharp.

I trudged into the bathroom to do my business then brushed my teeth. I didn’t want to wash her off my skin quite yet.

I went back into the main part of my room and saw something white propped up on my notebook on the dresser.

You gave me one of the loveliest Christmases that I can remember. I haven’t had a whole lot to smile about in the last few years, but you gave me that. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay. It’s just easier this way.

Thank you, Callum.

Ellie

I crinkled the note and swore. I thought I’d gotten through to her. Thought she might have given us a chance. I wanted to go after her to try to make her see what she was throwing away.

But I couldn’t.

I’d promised her she could walk away if that was what she really wanted.

I tossed the note into the trash bin and headed for the shower.

Evidently, it was time to leave Crescent Cove in my rearview mirror.

Ten

Valentine’s Day

I pushed the broom across the clay-colored matte tile. Clippings from a half dozen clients shuffled along the floor in front of my favorite rubber broom. It had been a busy morning. People excited for a romantic evening had come in for last-minute beautifications.

My book was slowly growing with customers. Some were from the Cove thanks to my years at Brewed Awakening and before that at Robbie’s Pizza.

I’d made plenty of acquaintances in town. Enough that I was able to network a little with help from a few coupons. I’d also been doing some videos on the Instagram and TikTok accounts I’d convinced Melody to try out. I was in charge of them, but I actually didn’t mind it. Our followers were slowly increasing due to some clever hashtags as well.

All the books I’d read and workshops I’d taken in marketing over the years were finally proving useful. With a little luck from walk-ins and word of mouth, things seemed to be looking up.

I’d given myself six months of savings in a special slush account to cover living expenses, booth rental, and of course my apartment rent. If I really needed to dip into my nest egg, I could. Budgeting had been my life for a long time. Long enough that I still lived way below my means even though I didn’t have to anymore.

I was already seeing steady growth in my bank account, especially since I’d established multiple payment options to accommodate younger clients. Melody, the owner of the salon, was still living with a cash and carry setup for the most part, but I was slowly getting her to come around to my way of thinking.

All in all, I was happy.

But I was always tired. A good kind of tired most of the time. Falling into bed after working a full day doing what I loved was a new feeling. And okay, maybe I was going to bed before nine o’clock most nights. It was winter, and the days were shorter.

February was made for sleeping in when I could, and I’d found a lot of joy in making some improvements in the salon. Melody hadn’t exactly been on board right away, but money talked. Clients were already commenting on how spa-like the place felt. I’d also used my own cash and time. I’d become comfortable with do-it-yourself ideas years ago because money hadn’t been abundant for most of my life.

In the end, Melody thought we could charge a little more because we looked so posh.

I’d done that. My ideas and my ingenuity. Self-pride was new to me, but it felt good.

Most nights I was too tired to think about the man who’d come into my life like a spring storm. Wild and messy, full of wind and excitement. Just as fast as he’d arrived, I knew he’d be gone.

I’d made sure to leave first.

I wasn’t sure I could have handled him walking away. It was humbling to know that. He’d overwhelmed me not only physically, but with the way he saw me. That fantasy drawing he’d done of a seductive, almost playful woman—that wasn’t who I was.

At least I didn’t think so.

Sooner or later, he’d see that and lose interest. It had happened many times in my life to my mother and I. Hot and heavy passion was easy, but there was rarely any lasting substance.

And Callum was an artist, for God’s sake. There was no stability there. No peace. And I couldn’t allow myself to wonder or hope. Not now. Not when I was just putting my plans into motion.