A thousand things rushed to his lips, but it was the truth that slipped out. “Josie.”
Patrick’s eyes went wide. “You made your move then?” he asked. “Stated your case.”
“It’s not that easy.”
Patrick nodded sagely and took another sip of coffee before he set it down. “Well, I can’t tell you your business,” he said. “I wouldn’t even pretend to know. But I will tell you what wasn’t easy…for me.” He pressed a gnarled hand to his chest, the wedding ring gleaming brightly against his wrinkled skin and oversized knuckles. A workingman’s hand with a ring he’d never taken off.
“Yeah?” Cameron asked.
“All those years me and Iris spent apart. Because I’d convinced myself it was too hard to figure out how to get back together. How to forgive her. And help the boys forgive. How to forgive myself. It was all too hard. And I’d give everything I have for just one of those days back that we wasted. Because what’s hard is loving someone when they’re not here to be loved.”
“Patrick,” Cameron said. “We were kids when I loved her. It’s not the same.”
“Yeah. You were kids. But even then we knew what you two were. What you meant to each other. And maybe you are just friends. But I gotta tell you, son…” When Patrick called him son it didn’t rankle like it did with Max. “I have not once gotten naked with one of my friends like you did with Josie.” He waggled his old man eyebrows. “I’ve got to go make a fire. If someone comes, you made that coffee.”
Cameron smiled and watched as Patrick left. It’s not the same, he told himself when he found he wanted to believe it was. That Patrick was right—it was harder to be apart than to figure out how to be together. And maybe it wasn’t hard for him. He had no ties to any place. No apartment. No job expecting him to solve problems twenty-four hours a day.
Stop. You knew the rules going in. This was goodbye.
He pulled out the cinnamon rolls that had proofed overnight and started to preheat the oven, and he did the dishes, and none of it mattered because he couldn’t stop the thought that grew in his head.
What if this isn’t goodbye?
17
JOSIE
She gave herself a minute in the bathroom. She brushed her hair. Found some mouthwash and made use of it. Washed her face and then pressed her face to a towel hanging on the back of the door and wondered what happened next.
What do I want to have happen next?
You gotta quit that job.
Not if she could change it, right? Not if there was a chance.
Fumbling, she pulled the phone that would not stop binging from her pocket. There were seven hundred new emails. Seven hundred. And nearly as many texts.
She scanned through the emails until she saw one from Network Executives, Your Pitch in the subject line. Her heart slammed up into her throat. It could work, all of this could work. She imagined opening the email, finding out they liked the idea and were looking forward to discussing it further after the holiday break. A fresh start. A new chance.
Her thumb opened the email.
We have no idea how this would even work, the email said. Or what kind of audience might be into this? We would lose all of our advertisers. This might work in some kind of small setting but for our network it’s a hard pass. You’re very good at your job, Josie. And we look forward to you bringing this kind of energy to the new season of I Do/I Don’t. Have a good holiday.
There was a terrible blank spot where her heartbeat usually pounded. Where her brain made plans and lists and considered possibilities and opportunities. And then the blank space was filled with the hot burning rush of…not embarrassment. Not resignation. Anger.
Anger.
And not even at her bosses because, honestly, what had she expected?
What kind of fool was I to think they’d go for this idea? For any idea that wasn’t a full asshole season.
You’ve got to quit that job.
That was incredibly obvious at this point. It was ludicrous, really, how obvious it was. Like all those things that had been so important to her were…well, meaningless. What she’d been clinging to, that hope, it was gone. And all that mattered was how painfully unhappy she was.
And she’d had just one day of happiness, bright and hot and beautiful, and now the idea of going back to that awful dark-gray place she’d lived in for the last few years was…oh god.
Looking at that email she knew there was only one thing to do.
They could give her money and make her queen of the world and it wouldn’t change the fact that she was rotting from the inside.
She took a deep breath and sent an email to her boss.
This is my resignation. I’ll help cast this season and then I’m out. Good luck.
Immediately she laughed. Immediately she was seven hundred emails lighter. The blinders were gone and she saw in the corners of her life a hundred possibilities and opportunities.
But there was only one right in front of her. Only one she really wanted.
She received an immediate response from her boss. More money. A better office. And none of it mattered.
She actually made some strange whooping noise in her throat. The relief of this…for a second she couldn’t feel her hands.
She turned her phone off and put it back in her pocket.
The job she wanted was out in the living room. Or in the kitchen making cinnamon buns.
In the great room the fire was crackling but there was no sign of Patrick, who had undoubtedly made a quick escape. He liked a drama-free life these days. And Josie felt like she and Cameron had enough drama for a thousand people.
Suddenly there was Christmas music coming through the speakers and the lights on the tree were on. Oh no, she thought. Not Alice. Not yet.
But it was Cameron at the stereo. “It’s the morning of Christmas Eve,” he said. “The family is going to be here, like, any minute.”
“Can I ask you five questions about your job?”
He blinked at her. “Sure.”
“Where are you going next?”
“I haven’t decided,” he said. “I usually spend the winter in the Southern Hemisphere. Australia, maybe? But I need to finish the show with Mateo before I leave. And then I was trying to think of how to frame the Alice show. Maybe you can help me with that…you know…before you go back to the city.”
I’d love to.
“Why do you take those meetings with Netflix and YouTube if you aren’t interested in doing a show for them?”
“Because I hope when I’m in New York City I might run into you.”
She smiled at him, shook her head. “There are easier ways to make that happen.”
“I know that now. But it didn’t seem so at the time.”
“What are you hoping for when you take those meetings?”
“That they will pitch me an idea that sounds like me. That excites me.”
“What if you went to them with a show idea? Created exactly the way you wanted.”
“But they attach producers and writers, and then it gets co-opted.“
“You happen to know a producer and a writer.”
His mouth fell open for a second. “You want to work with me?”
The way he said work made it clear he didn’t understand what she was saying. Or offering. And maybe that had been their problem all along. They never said what they meant. At least, not while sober.
“I just…quit my job. They’re not interested in Common Ground and I can not go back to that place. You were right. I needed to quit. Not that that has anything to do with you. Or that you need to feel responsible. I should have done it ages ago. You just…pushed me in the right way.”
“That’s good,” he said, very carefully.
“And I believe in you. In what you do. And I want to help. If that’s…you know…” She was running out of steam. “Something you want. I mean, I could take the next few months—I have savings—and help you create the show that you would want to
do. That excites you. And then I can help you pitch it. If…you want…me?”
“Do I want you?” It was so bald. So plain. It made her scared. It made her doubt. Was she worth having? Was this ridiculous?
“Like that. Like…in your life in that way. In any way. You probably need to think about it. And I get that. I mean, it’s Christmas Eve and we really…I mean, it’s only been three days.” She laughed, awkward and awful. “Anyway. It’s just…something to think about.”
“Josie.” He took a step toward her. “I want to be clear. Is this a business proposition, or…more?”
“Both?” she whispered with a shrug, feeling as out of body as she’d ever felt. As she’d ever been. This was riskier than a kiss after her high school graduation. She’d never been so exposed.
He opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say or do was crushed under the weight of the entire family storming into the lodge, loaded with presents and noise and distraction.
“You’re alive!” Mom cried, bringing in the cold with her. “Take these, would you?” She unloaded a pile of brightly wrapped presents into Josie’s arms. “Put them under the tree. I need to help Dom with the stockings.”
Josie caught Cameron’s eye before he was pulled into the kitchen by Alice, and the look on his face told her it was all too much. All too soon.
She’d driven him away. Again.
How is this a mistake I just keep making?
“Come on,” Dom said, walking past her with rope in his hands. “Help me with the stockings.”
Helen walked by, her brow furrowed, looking down at her phone.
“Are you all right?” Josie asked Helen.
“Fine. I just…haven’t heard anything from Evan.”
“Well, the storm.”
“Totally, the storm.” Helen put the phone in her pocket and took Josie in from the top of her head to her feet. “What have you been up to?”
“So much,” she whispered.
“Yeah?” Helen asked, her eyes bright. She grabbed Josie’s hand.
“But I just did something so stupid and I’ve ruined everything. Again.”
“Josie!” Dom yelled from the fireplace. “You’re helping me!”
“I gotta help.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
The stockings had once hung side by side on the mantel, but now there were too many so Max drilled little eye hooks into the wall, and the rope they hung the stockings on stretched from one corner of the room to the other. Ten feet of stockings.
“You okay?” Dom asked.
“Fine. Why?”
“You seem weird.”
“You’re a real wordsmith, Dom,” she said.
“I don’t know. Happy. I guess. You seem happy.”
It was weird that it was true. Even if she had ruined everything with Cameron. Even if they weren’t supposed to have more than one night, quitting her job had been the right thing to do. And she was happy. Even with heartbreak looming, she was happier than she’d been in ages. Years.
“I’m just so happy to be here,” she said, surprised as the words came out of her mouth about just how true it was.
“You should come back more often,” he said. “I mean. Mom and Dad, like…miss you.”
“What about you?” she asked, advancing on her brother for a hug she knew he was going to try to wrestle out of. “Do you, like…miss me?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I do.” And then he surprised her by pulling her in for a hug.
“Oh, well, I miss you too, Dom,” she said, squeezing him tight.
“Can we hang our stockings yet, or what?” little Iris asked.
“Hold your horses, Iris,” Dom muttered.
She and Dom called all the kids to hang their stockings first. And then the grown-ups. A wall of stockings made of felt with names spelled out in sequins or ribbons. They were too small for all the things that got stuffed in them, and tomorrow morning there would be stacks of gifts beneath every one. Cookbooks and makeup, glittery nail polish and NHL bobbleheads. Warm socks and practical jokes. So much love made real, and Josie could not believe she’d wasted the last five years alone in her apartment when she could have been here. Here with all this tradition. And fun.
And love.
“You want to go tell Alice and Cameron it’s their turn?” Dom asked.
“Yeah.” And she knew it was time. Whatever was next with her and Cameron, it was time for Josie and Alice to be family again.
The kitchen was warm and delicious smelling, and Alice and Cameron were in there, moving around each other like they’d been doing it forever. Taking things in and out of the oven. Stirring pots on the stove.
“Taste this?” Cameron asked Alice and held out a spoon, his hand beneath it catching some kind of sauce.
“Perfect,” Alice said after she sipped at the spoon.
“Well, that’s a Christmas miracle,” Cameron said dryly. “I don’t think you’ve ever said something I’ve made was perfect.”
“Well, I should have,” Alice said.
“Another Christmas miracle!”
“It’s your turn to hang stockings,” Josie said abruptly from the doorway, her heart pounding a mile a minute. They both turned to stare at her.
“Do I still have a stocking?” Cameron asked, looking for all the world like the boy he’d been, surprised to be brought in out of the cold.
“Of course,” Alice said, and the two of them started to take off their aprons.
“Actually,” Josie said. “Can I talk to you for a second, Alice?”
There was a loaded moment in the kitchen, everyone looking at each other. They were the kind of moments she and her team used to spend hours trying to manage and create on the show. Pregnant pauses and dramatic silences. Josie stood there inside of it and held her own. Something she hadn’t done for a really long time.
“Sure,” Alice said and stayed back in the kitchen. Cameron walked by her, an eyebrow raised, and she smiled at him. Projecting things she wasn’t sure she really felt. Calm. Control.
Cameron was gone; the sound of the family hummed on the other side of that door.
Alice rested a hip against the table. “Are you—?”
“In love with Cameron?”
“I was going to say all right.” Alice blinked her eyes. “But we can go your way, too.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I love him or if I never stopped loving him or if what I’m feeling is wrapped up in what happened. I don’t have an answer for any of it.”
“Okay.”
“But I want to find out.”
“That’s good. Isn’t it?”
“Are you going to stand in the way of it?”
Ah. Alice blanched white, her hand flittering from her hips to her face. “Is that…do you think that’s what I want?” Alice asked.
“I’ve never been very good at understanding what you want. Or what you think. Or how you feel about me. But it’s always been obvious you love Cameron. So, I’m asking you—”
Alice came striding across the kitchen to grab Josie by the shoulders. “You have my full blessing. My one hundred percent excitement and enthusiasm for you and Cameron being whatever it is you can be to each other. That’s it. That’s all. I love you both and just want to see you happy.”
“Oh.” Well, that took some of the wind out of her sails. Josie slumped in Alice’s arms. “Well.”
“I take it you two made the most of the snowstorm?”
Josie felt herself blush. And the need to tell someone, anyone, what she had done pushed the words right out of her mouth. And maybe Alice was the right person to bring this to. She knew Cameron better than anyone. Loved him unconditionally. “I think I just made this grand gesture and he’s not interested in it.”
“What was the gesture?”
“I quit my job and offered to help him create a show out of his YouTube channel.”
“That is—”
“Ridiculous?”
“Perfect. Like
the most perfect thing I’ve ever heard. Are you…all right?”
“I think so? I actually have no idea. I quit my job.”
Josie laughed with hysteria and joy. Relief. Worry. All of it. She laughed and it caught on a sob.
“Don’t tell my mom,” Josie said. “I mean, I’ll tell her, but she’ll get all…mom about it.”
“Come on. Sit. I’ll put Baileys in your coffee and you can tell me all about it,” Alice said. “And I promise to keep my mouth shut.”
A week ago Josie would have said there was no chance for a relationship between herself and Alice, but she would have said the same thing about Cameron. And here she was, a welcome guest in Alice’s kitchen. Spilling secrets and talking about the man they both loved.
Christmas at the Riverview Inn was full of strange possibility.
Chapter 18
CAMERON
The previous Christmas, Cameron had spent the holiday in Montreal with the skater. They’d walked through the Atwater Market and she’d broken her diet with smoked meat poutine and they’d had sex in the light from the Christmas tree. If you’d asked Cameron, he would have said it was about as good a Christmas as it got.
But standing in the mayhem of the Riverview Inn on Christmas Eve he knew he’d been lying to himself. This was what Christmas Eve should look like. And it should sound like twenty Mitchell relatives arguing over memories and playlists and which movies they were going to watch next.
It was his stocking, the one Delia had made for him ages ago, hung up on the rope next to everyone else’s.
And it was his body, exhausted and relaxed from loving Josie all night long.
And his heart…oh god, this was how his heart was supposed to feel. Full. So full.
He turned away from the stockings and found Max at the door, prepared to go outside to get more firewood.
“Max?” he said, his mouth running twenty feet in front of him. “You going to get more wood?” He walked over to put on his boots.
“Yeah,” Max said, not hiding his surprise and happiness.
“I’ll help.”
Outside it was the kind of cold that hurt to breathe. The icicles weren’t dripping anymore—they’d frozen over again in the cold snap after the storm.
Christmas At The Riverview Inn Page 17