Finn turned and started off down the sidewalk. She stared after him. He was walking away from her as he’d done outside Angel’s apartment building. Walking away and taking all his gifts with him.
Except for…
She looked down at the repaired heart. The promise ring. B and F entwined forever.
He was in love with her?
“Wait!” she heard herself call out.
He paused, slowly turned. The kids’ helmets swiveled too, all of them looking at her, expectant.
The church bells were ringing louder with peal after bright peal, or maybe it was really the shattered shards of her heart, tinkling, clattering, finally coming together after having been broken that day she heard her father say, “Get out before things get ugly.”
Finn was in love with her. How could that ever get ugly?
And how could she let him walk away when she was in love with him too? But it would mean she would have to take off her metaphorical helmet, and…and…
If nothing else, I can promise that lasts.
She’d have to believe.
Jumping to her feet, she snatched up the water bottle clipped to Angel’s bike frame. “Hey!” he protested.
Glad to find it full, she squeezed it hard, shooting the water into Finn’s wary, then surprised, then annoyed face.
“Hey!” he said, in the exact same tone as the little bad boy on the banana seat beside her. “What the hell?”
Bailey laughed. Now that she was whole, she felt as if she could fly. “You looked like you were sulking again.”
He flicked water off his face with one hand, his gaze wary. “That’s how I get when I can’t have everything I want.”
“Oh, Finn.” Her feet took off and she did fly, like a reindeer, like an angel, like a woman who wanted to be pressed against the man she loved. “I think it’s about time you were rewarded for all your good behavior.
“I love you,” Bailey said against his mouth. His arms held her tight. She believed in him, them, magic. How else, to paraphrase Finn, would the girl next door get the bad boy of her dreams?
She’d been called home to save the season, but in the end, she realized, it had saved her. “Merry Christmas.”
Author’s Note
Coronado is a lovely place to visit any time of year. While I tried to give the flavor of the “island” in the story, with very few exceptions I made up street names and other details. (Don’t go looking for Christmas Central on Walnut Street!)
Please visit www.christieridgway.com for more Christmas trivia, recipes, and fun. Wherever you are this season, I wish for you hope and light.
About the Author
CHRISTIE RIDGWAY has never lived east of the Pacific Ocean, north of San Francisco, or south of San Diego. To put it simply, she’s a California native who loves to travel but is happy to make the Golden State her home.
She began her writing career in fifth grade when she penned a volume of love stories featuring herself and a teen idol who will probably be thrilled to remain nameless. Later, though, after marrying her college sweetheart, Christie again took up writing romances, this time with imaginary heroes and heroines.
In a house full of males-one terrific husband, two school-age sons, a yellow dog, and tankfuls of fish, reptiles, and amphibians-Christie makes her own place (and peace) writing the kinds of stories she loves best.
Christie enjoys hearing from readers. You may write to her at PO Box 3803, La Mesa, CA 91944, or visit her website at www.christieridgway.com.
