It was Christmas Eve, and Ellie was giving Scrooge a run for his money.

“Couldn’t you at least try to smile at the guests?” her older sister Charlotte sighed.

She gave a listless shrug, slumped on the couch in the lobby as Mr. and Mrs. Whitmore dragged their bags out to their cab. “Happy holidays!” Charlotte called after them. “Come stay again anytime.”

Ellie sank lower on the couch and reached for more candy.

“Nope, that’s it, I’m cutting you off.” Charlotte snatched away the bag of peanut brittle. “You’ve done nothing but wallow and eat all day.”

“You’re supposed to be in Boston,” Ellie pointed out. “I thought I’d get to wallow in peace.”

“And I thought you could use a break from work to enjoy the holidays,” Charlotte replied, shoving Ellie’s feet off the coffee table. “Little did I know, you were busy scaring everyone away.”

“They’re leaving because the festival is over,” Ellie pointed out, but that didn’t pacify her sister.

Charlotte put her hands on her hips and looks at Ellie. “I don’t understand, you knew this guy for like, two days. How are you this much of a mess?”

“I don’t know!” Ellie grabbed the candy back. “But I am, so can you please leave me to mope alone?”

Charlotte shook her head. “Will you at least have some soup to go with that sugar?”

“If you’re making it,” Ellie answered with a full mouth.

“I’ll be right down.” Charlotte patted her kindly on the head and went upstairs. Ellie shoved more candy into her mouth, but the sweet treat only made her head hurt. She’d barely slept last night after Dash left; she just kept running over the fight in her mind, reliving every terrible moment—and all the places where she could have just bitten her tongue and asked him to stay.

Now that her initial betrayal was fading, the anger had given way to sadness and a massive, aching regret. She’d had a glimpse of something great, and she’d let it slip away. Like those first snowflakes of winter that melted on your tongue, all that was left was the memory of their time together, haunting Ellie.

Dash was smart, and fun, and hot as hell, but more than that, he got her. The way they’d bantered and joked, how he didn’t mind her sarcasm or quick retorts. Other guys backed off, they thought she was too much to handle, but he’d been ready for the challenge: the chemistry between them building to the breaking point.

And when it had finally exploded…

Ellie buried her head in a pillow and let out a muffled groan. She was never going to find sex like that again. His hands…his body…his mouth. She would die a withered old crone, with only memories of their night together to keep her warm.

Great job, Ellie. Happy holidays to you.

She lifted her head in time to see Charlotte come downstairs with a trash bag. “Honestly,” she said, passing Ellie on her way outside. “It’s a mess up there. If you weren’t such a wreck right now, I’d be severely annoyed.”

Ellie cringed. “Sorry.”

She idly watched Charlotte through the door as she crossed the snow to the bins. Then it hit her. The trash. Dash’s memory stick.

His script.

“Wait!” She leapt up and shoved her feet into the nearest pair of snow boots. “Stop!”

But Charlotte didn’t hear her. She tossed the bag over the top of the dumpster as Ellie barreled breathlessly outside. “No!” she wailed, “I need something from in there.”

“Too late,” Charlotte said. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“Getting it back.” Ellie clambered up the side of the trash bin, trying to get a foothold.

“Ellie!”

“Don’t just stand there, help!”

Charlotte sighed, but came to help hoist her over the top. Ellie tumbled into the dumpster with a clatter, landing in a heap of garbage bags and empty boxes. “Gross! Whatever it is, I hope it’s worth it,” Charlotte said, peering over the top.

“It is.” Ellie determinedly started rooting around in the trash, ignoring the day-old food remains squelching around her. From rummaging around in the sewer lines to searching through trash, maybe the universe was trying to tell her something; either way, it’d have to wait. She found the bag Charlotte had just tossed, and ripped it open, eagerly sorting through the old tissues and empty wrappers until she found the tiny memory stick. “Got it!”

“Got what?” Charlotte gingerly helped Ellie out. She wrinkled her nose. “Wait, tell me after you take a shower.”

“No time!” Ellie was already sprinting back to the house. She made straight for the lobby computer, and inserted the stick. A couple of clicks later, and there it was: Dash’s script, on the screen in front of her.

She paused, her heart twisting with a bitter ache. Did she really want to do this?

She’d only had time to read the first few pages before blowing up at him before. The rest could be worse, much worse than that. What if it made her hate him even more?

Then she needed to know.

Ellie took a deep breath and scrolled to the top of the document. If this was what tore them apart, then she owed it to herself to read the whole thing. And maybe then she could see why Dash chose this script over the two of them—and understand once and for all that she’d made the right call.

Either way, she had to know.

Ellie started reading.

Fifty pages later, Ellie wished she’d left the script in the trash.

“That bad?” Charlotte asked. She’d been watching Ellie anxiously for an hour now, waiting for some hint of what was on the drive.

“Worse,” Ellie said, her heart so low it was scraping in the gutter.

“So, you did the right thing!” Charlotte tried to sound upbeat. “If he chose that bullshit over you, you’re better off without him.”

Ellie didn’t reply. Dash wasn’t the one who had made the mistake—she had. And now that she’d read what was left of his script, she could see the truth clearly.

She’d judged him all wrong.

The script wasn’t some hatchet job. It was sweet and thrilling, emotional and moving. And Ally… God, where couldn’t she even begin? Sure, the character was scared and insecure at the start of the story, but that was the point. She didn’t believe in herself, that she could make her dreams a reality. But her character was the engine behind everything, forcing the rest of the cast out of their comfort zones until by the end of all the drama and conflict, she finally found herself.

Close in on: Ally, watching her final sunrise over the cliffs as the building burns behind her. We can see the change in her face: she’s ready. She’s perfect.

Ellie felt a lump in her throat. She’d never had guys write her love letters or compose sweet songs in her name. She’d never inspired much of anything, but right then, seeing this thing that Dash created—in part, because of her—she felt overwhelmed with pride and awe and a dozen other emotions besides. The script was good, so good, and the fact that she had even the smallest hand in bringing it to life was amazing.

Dash was amazing. And she’d chased him away.

“Goddamn it!” Ellie let out a string of curse words and buried her head in her arms on the desk.

“Do you hear that?” Charlotte asked behind her.

“Hear what? The sound of my heart breaking? Loud and clear.”

“No, the singing.”

Ellie reluctantly lifted her head and listened. She was right, there was singing nearby, getting louder.

“I thought the festival was in town.” Charlotte frowned.

“It is.” Ellie got up and went to open the door. Outside, the Sweetbriar carol choir were coming up the snowy driveway, their lanterns bobbing in the dusk light. As they drew closer, she could hear the music more clearly, but it wasn’t any carol she recognized.

“Everybody’s gone surfing...”

Charlotte jostled behind her to get a better look. “Is that the Beach Boys they’re singing? What’s going on?”

“No idea.” Ellie watched as the group took up position in front of the inn, bundled up in winter coats and scarves, lustily singing their hearts out about beaches and summer as the snow fell softly around them. It might just be the most bizarre thing she’d ever seen, and in Sweetbriar Cove, that was saying a lot.

Finally, the song came to an end. Ellie and her sister gave a confused round of applause. “I guess we better invite them in for cocoa,” Charlotte whispered, but before Ellie could say anything, the choir parted and a familiar figure emerged.

Dash.

Her jaw dropped. She didn’t understand. What was he doing there?

Ellie heard Charlotte make an excited squeak. She jabbed her elbow into her sister’s ribs, her mind racing.

God, he looked good in that navy peacoat, with the cold flush in his cheeks and dark hair falling messily in his eyes. But it was the look in those eyes that made her heart pound faster: determined and sincere.

He was there. He came back.

What did it mean?

“Merry Christmas,” Dash said, approaching with a bashful smile on his gorgeous face.

Ellie finally remembered how to speak. “What are you doing here?” she managed.

“I came to apologize.” Dash shoved his hands in his coat pocket, and for a moment, looked adorably vulnerable. The Sweetbriar singers were still standing around, watching them with fascination—everyone she knew from town all with front-row seats to the show.

“Surf music is an apology?” Ellie was still confused.

“No, but surf lessons are.” Dash gave her a hopeful smile. “And tickets to LA. Come back with me, spend the holidays in the sun for a change. You could stay, or keep travelling,” he added, as her head spun. “We could go together. Whatever you want.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Was he for real?

“I don’t…” she stammered, trying to process it. “I mean…”

“Ellie.” Dash climbed the steps and took her hands. His were freezing, but she didn’t mind the cold, not with him close enough to touch again. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, looking into her eyes. “You were right, I should never have gone behind your back like that. You’re the most important thing, I realize that now. I’ll delete the script, whatever you want.”

“No!” Ellie yelped.

Dash’s face fell.

“I mean, no, don’t delete it,” she hurried to explain. “It’s too good to lose. You need to make that movie, Dash. It’s going to be amazing!”

“But, I thought…” Dash frowned. “You said you hated it—”

“I was an idiot,” she interrupted him. “I didn’t read it all. But now I have, and I see what you were trying to do. I understand, it’s OK.”

“So you’re not mad anymore?” Dash asked slowly.

“No!” Ellie exclaimed, already overwhelmed. The past twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of emotion, and it was almost too much. “I’m sorry! For pushing you away and jumping to conclusions. I should have given you a real chance to explain,” she sniffled, feeling tears come—tears of relief, and happiness, that this story might get a happy ending for once. “I’m sorry.”

“So that makes two of us.”

Dash smiled at her, that devastating grin, and just like that, the pain and regret melted away, and Ellie knew that everything was going to be OK. Because he was there, and this was only the beginning.

He gently cupped her cheek and kissed her, softly, like he was afraid she’d disappear. But Ellie wasn’t going anywhere—not without him. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a real kiss: hard, and hot, and full of glorious heat that would put the California sun to shame. His arms wrapped tight around her, lifting her off her feet.

Ellie heard applause, and when they broke apart, she remembered that they had an audience. They clapped and whistled. Dash took her hand and bowed.

Ellie flushed, laughing. “I can’t believe you dragged half the town out to serenade me!”

“Are you kidding?” Dash hugged her closer. “They were happy to come. You know they all adore you.”

“They adore saving money on a professional bookkeeper.”

“No, they’re crazy about you,” Dash corrected. “And so am I.”

Ellie’s heart skipped. She squeezed his hand. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“Coming back.”

Dash pulled her close again, his lips grazing Ellie’s ear as his body heat warmed her from the inside out.

“Sweetheart, our adventure is only just getting started.”