CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Cat paced back and forth in front of the cameras, ignoring the amused looks Sound Guy Eddie was shooting her.
“Chill, babe,” Drake said, pressing a bottle of water into her hand.
“I’m so fucking nervous. What if they don’t like it? And why the hell do we have to film this?” She sent an anxious glance over her shoulder to where Noah and a couple dozen Merriers were laughing and joking around the coffee and cookie table.
“They’re going to love it. It’s incredible,” Drake promised.
“And we have to film it because it’s gold, Cat,” Paige said, giving her a sympathetic smile. “If you wouldn’t have been so thoughtful and awesome, we could have brushed all this under the rug.”
“So helpful. Thanks,” Cat snapped back.
Paige laid a hand on her shoulder. “You’re going to be just fine. And your second surprise is a camera-free event. So maybe you should be worrying about that one.”
“And now I’m doubly panicking,” Cat chugged her water, let Archie touch up her lipstick, and pasted on a dazzling for-the-cameras smile. “Let’s just get this shit over with.”
“That’s the spirit!” Drake slapped her on the shoulder.
They found their marks, and Cat wished she was standing anywhere but here for this particular reveal. Her gynecologist’s office. Jury duty. She’d thought it was a good idea, symbolic of the town, of their resilience and traditions. Now it seemed stupid. Really stupid. And they were going to hate it. They’d probably pelt her with burnt Christmas cookies. The ultimate insult.
“Rolling.”
Cat automatically shifted gears from doubting human to charming show host. “When Merry lost their official Christmas tree, an eighty-year-old pine they’ve decorated every Christmas for the past five decades, we knew we had to find a way to replace it.”
Drake smoothly took the next line while Cat stared at Noah. She was worried most about his reaction. Traditions were important to him. Hopefully this wasn’t too much of a departure.
“We give you Merry’s new Christmas tree. One that you can light for the next fifty years.” Cat’s delivery was strong even though her stomach was a roiling mess of nerves. The crane driver perfectly executed the tarp drop revealing the surprise beneath.
The crowd gasped, breaking into spontaneous applause, and Cat watched as Noah covered his mouth with his hand. No one was laughing or throwing shards of Christmas cookies her way.
The bronze statue rose twenty-five feet in the air, its sinuous metal twists were reminiscent of the branches of a perfectly shaped evergreen. It rose proud and strong, firmly rooted to the earth yet reaching for the sky.
The metal works firm she’d commissioned had outdone themselves. It was beautiful, strong, and absolutely perfect.
“Noah?” Cat called. “Can you come here please?”
He looked over his shoulder as if expecting there to be another Noah behind him. Cat crooked her finger at him, and he obeyed. Reluctant as ever to be on camera, he shoved his hands in his pockets, but there was only joy in his green eyes.
“Could you do us a favor and push this button?” Cat asked, handing him the slim remote.
He cast a glance at the cameras. “Uh, sure.” Deftly, he stabbed at the button with his gloved finger, and the crowd erupted again as the statue glowed to life.
Thousands of tiny fiber optic lights dotted the surface of the metal making it look like it was made from stars. It would be spectacular at night.
“I hope you like it,” Cat said softly. She was speaking directly to Noah, but it was everyone else that reacted. They mobbed her and Drake, a town-wide hug. Dozens of people laughing and hugging and thanking them.
The cameras gently pushed their way into the fray to capture the moment.
“Got it in one,” Paige yelled. “Let’s set up for one-on-ones.” This time, it was the crew that cheered.
Cat ducked through the crowd and slipped an arm through Noah’s. “Got a minute?” she whispered in his ear.
“I’ve got all the time in the world for you… at least until the end of the night,” he answered quietly.
“I need to show you something.” She guided him around the far side of the tree, away from the crowds and cameras and crew.
Running a finger over one of the curving branches, she found what she was looking for.
“Here. Read this,” she said, guiding him to the branch.
Noah leaned in, frowned at the tiny type. “For the boy who dreamed of the light,” he read aloud.
Cat bit her lip and watched a wave of emotions pass over his face. Those green eyes misted behind his glasses.
“For me?” he whispered the words, running his finger over and over the engraving.
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
He shoved his glasses up, wiped at his eyes.
Cat cleared her throat. “We were going to do another tree. But the timing was bad, and I wanted you to have something more. Something you could count on forever.”
“Stay.” He said it, staring at the statue before shifting his gaze to her. “Stay here, Cat. Make a home with me. A family. Whatever you want. Just stay.”
Cat opened her mouth, took a step toward him.
But Jayla was already bustling around the statue. “Let’s go, King! We need Noah for a one-on-one, and we need a couple of pictures of you and Drake in front of the tree.”
“Yeah, in a sec—”
“Cat!” Paige called. “We’ve got an issue.”
“Shit. Noah. Hold that thought.”
She left him there, next to his tree.
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Cat found a bubble, a pocket of quiet in the blazing, celebratory bustle of North Pole Park. It was nearing midnight, and the band was showing no signs of slowing down. Neither were the crowds. They should have thinned out hours ago, families heading home to wake early to celebrate Santa’s visit. But instead, they clung to Merry, moved by the holiday spirit.
Just a few more minutes.
Just one more hot chocolate.
Just one more dance.
They’d arrived in droves. Even more than she’d expected, and she’d set very high expectations. They’d seen the show, or they’d come to Merry as a child, or they were here every year. Thousands of families listening to Christmas carols, kids sitting on Santa’s lap, adults enjoying spiked hot chocolate while their sons and daughters raced through the holiday obstacle in Santa’s village course.
The snow that had started to fall during the official tree lighting was gently blanketing the park in white. The promise of a new day, a fresh start.
She’d done it. Exactly what she set out to do and so much more.
Cat stroked her hand over the bronze of the sculpture. It was smooth and cold to the touch, but oh so strong. It would stand for decades. Permanent and rooted in the community. It belonged here, standing for something. She felt the lump in her throat return.
Her family, all of them, was clustered around a park bench. Nonni was holding the sleeping Gabby wrapped in a plaid blanket. Gannon, his arm slung around Paige’s waist, gazed into his wife’s eyes as they swayed to the music, and Cat felt a punch to the gut at the unconditional, raw love she saw radiate from them. Her parents, just a step away, had their arms wrapped around each other like teenagers, looking on with something like satisfaction.
Sara and April, dashed past her, soft pretzels clutched in their gloved hands. A pack of their classmates giggled on their heels. Sara waved and blew Cat a kiss.
And there was Noah, hands in his pockets, watching her quietly from the other side of the tree. A yearning so intense it felt like it was cracking her heart open swept through her.
So, this was love. And wasn’t that ridiculous to finally know it now?
When had it all changed? When had her goals shifted from big and sweeping, from spotlights and followers, to this? Tight circles. Intertwined roots. Family. Community.
He rounded the twists and tangles of metal, slow and steady—that was her Noah. Cat held her breath. She wanted to fold herself into his arms and press her face into his chest. But they needed to talk. There was so much to say.
“You did it,” Noah said, tilting his head toward the band and dancefloor still crowded with couples in winter coats and boots. People whirled around, blurs of color and laughter, in time to a particularly energetic version of “Jingle Bell Rock.”
A ghost of a smile played upon her lips. “I told you I would.”
“This is the part where you’re supposed to rub my face in the fact that I ever doubted you,” he said, nudging her boot with his.
Cat crossed her arms over her chest so she wouldn’t climb into his arms. “Oh, I prefer to let the results speak for themselves. It makes the disbelievers feel like bigger assholes.”
He smiled, warm and sweet, and Cat melted to her toes.
“You told me you were a miracle worker, and I didn’t believe you. Not even after you saved my life.” Noah’s hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her in.
Cat glanced around. “There’s an audience,” she whispered.
“I’m okay with that. Besides there’s something I need to tell you, and I want to make sure you hear me.”
Cat bit her lip, her pulse thrumming in her throat. “Noah, I need to tell you—”
“Cat. What I’m trying to say here is. I’m perfect for you. I’m what you’re looking for. I know it’s crazy. I know it’s not what we talked about. But I would spend the rest of my life regretting it if I let you walk away. Stay. Or I’ll go with you. Logistically, it would be more complicated. Sara, Mellody and Ricky, April and her parents, they’d all have to come with us. But I will find a way, Cat.”
“Noah—”
“Don’t say no. Since you came into my life, I’ve started saying yes, and it feels so damn good.”
“Noah, stop.” Cat held up her mittened hand. “I need to show you something.”