All Madison wants for Christmas is the same person who once wanted her. Free from the shackles of her broken heart, she's finally ready to give love another shot. But is Madi too late to win back the man of her dreams?
SEQUEL to The Heartbreak Hypot...
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Cape Capri was almost the same all year round. It was almost always sunny, it was almost always warm, and the glimmering ocean was almost always an unwavering shade of clear, crystal blue. The only acknowledgment that it was even December came in the form of lavish decorations draping Main Street, and the even more outlandish ones adorning the coastal mansions by the sea.
I stifled a laugh, though it was mostly out of habit. Making fun of bored housewives who competed in the unofficial contest for the most outrageous holiday display used to be one of mine and Lola's favorite traditions. Then, somewhere between my seventeenth and eighteenth birthday, my mother became one.
She must have hired someone to decorate the house this year—she'd never seen a day of manual labor in her life, and I daresay that my Mercedes-driving stepfather hadn't seen many either. But somehow our entire property had been coated in twinkling fairy lights from top to bottom, not even the palms lining the drive spared from a healthy dose of Christmas cheer. Reindeers and snowmen dotted the sprawling green grass, waiting for the cover of night before lighting up the lawn in festive shades of white and gold.
"And you had the audacity to freak out over James' house," Noah mumbled in my ear, shielding the sun from his eyes as we stepped out onto the newly laid drive.
I swatted him away instead of saying what I wanted to—something pertaining to the fact that while they were actually rich, my mother was simply bored.
But if I thought that she was bored before I moved away, she must have been warding off a coma now. In my absence, she'd added a brand-new extension to what was once our modest little family home, with the scaffolding propped on the roof showing signs of a possible third story.
I knew better than anyone the pain that my mother was trying to cover up with every renovation. It was like each new brick concealed another memory of my dad, like she would collapse if she was reminded that he used to live here, too. Still, I couldn't help but sigh over the pretentiousness of it all. Especially when I considered what it must look like to an outside eye.
"What on earth do you have in here?" James asked, his breath catching in his throat like he was lifting something heavy. I turned as he closed the trunk of his car, my luggage stuffed between his hands while a judgemental smirk lined his lips.
I knew that he was only teasing me, that he was exaggerating the weight of my suitcase for the sake of some dry quip about women and overpacking. But that didn't mean that his forearms weren't tensing around my luggage, or that a little shiver didn't race over my skin at the sight of his muscles pulsing as he gripped it tighter.
I shrugged, stepping toward him and meeting his banter with some of my own. "We don't all roll out of bed looking like a GQ model."
Shit. Holy shit.
Did I say that out loud?
Yes.
I did.
I reached for my suitcase immediately, as if I could mask the heat dancing on my cheeks behind the black and gold lining. Mostly, though, I needed to deflect and distract as soon as possible.
