A Festive Feud: A Holiday Romantic Comedy(45)
And I know that I’m falling for him.
By the way my heart thrashes in my chest every time he smiles. How he acts grumpy when it comes to Mo and Marley but melts like butter anytime they’re around. With how tender and gentle he can be with me but also doesn’t hesitate to call me on the things I’m wrong about.
I’m falling for him, and it’s a scary thought. Not just because of our family’s stupid history but because it feels like I am completely and totally out of control of my feelings.
Being in control, being able to compartmentalize things, it’s how I protect myself, and right now, I feel like I’m bared open wide for him with nothing to protect the most vulnerable part of me: my heart.
“Are you sure?” I say, swallowing the thick ball of emotion at the base of my throat as his arms tighten around me.
“Never been more sure of anything, Emma. What I feel for you is not temporary, and it sure as fuck is not something I’m going to hide.” Leaning down, he brushes his nose against mine as he plants a gentle kiss at the corner of my lip. “Once all of this is over, we can have a bigger conversation about all this, but I need you to know that I’m all in, and I’m not going anywhere.”
He kisses me again, his hand cradling my jaw, so tenderly I could melt into a puddle right on the floor.
“Okay,” I say, nodding. “Tonight we can talk, after the party.”
Jackson nods and steps back, immediately causing me to miss his touch. But if he doesn’t put distance between us, then we’re never going to finish getting the barn party-ready.
“Tell me where you need me,” he says.
I direct him to the few things that need to be hung, and then I busy myself covering the tables that we brought over from Town Hall, resetting them with the elegant centerpieces, place cards, and silverware.
With the help of his crew and the catering company and with some patience from the band, we manage to get everything set back up with twenty minutes to spare.
And… it doesn’t look half-bad.
It actually looks quite charming, much cozier than the outdated Town Hall ever did. The fireplace is crackling, the band set up nearby, leaving a decent-sized dance floor. The Worthington tree twinkles, the flocked branches full of ornaments, ribbon, and lights. It’s exactly what this space needed to tie it together. Glittering snowflakes and faux snow are strewn around the rafters, draped from one side to the other, along with twinkling fairy lights that set the tone. It looks classy but also welcoming and cozy. The barn turned out to be the perfect setting for a party that is somehow both Worthington and Pearce.
The six-tier gingerbread cake is covered in white icing, with piped snowflakes around the base, and sugared ice is sprinkled from top to bottom. It’s beautiful, and judging by the way it smells, it’s going to be as delicious as Jackson promised it would be. I guess not going with vanilla was the right choice. Something I’m sure Jackson will love to tease me about.
I’m beyond proud of the work we’ve done and even prouder that despite everything going wrong at the last minute, we somehow made it way better than what it originally would’ve been.
“Looks good, Emma,” Jude affirms, placing the last of the tea light candles into their holders on the tables.
I smile. “Well, I definitely couldn’t have done it without your brother or any of your help.”
“Yeah, would you look at that… a Pearce and a Worthington, working together. Who would’ve ever thought?” He chuckles. “I’m glad we could help though. It was kind of nice helping today. Makes me think next year maybe I should be in charge of the party.”
“Not a chance in hell, baby brother. Sorry, but my girl is the only one for the job,” Jackson interjects as he walks up, lacing his fingers in mine. “Ready to do this?”
“Yes. Let’s show this town what happens when two ‘feuding families’ come together and throw the party of a century.”
18
jackson
A Very Festive Feud
I’m standing in the middle of a crowded room, the entire town surrounding me, and the only thing I see is Emma Worthington.
If you had told me a month ago that I would be falling in love with the girl I’ve spent the majority of my life hating, I would’ve laughed in your face and told you that you’d lost your mind.
Yet, here I stand, hopelessly in love with her.
I watch as she tips her head back, laughter pouring from her lips, her blonde curls swaying at her waist in response to whatever Quinn Grant said. I’ve been watching her for the last ten minutes, silently sipping my beer.
She’s so fucking beautiful and completely in her element right now.
Despite her worries and all the obstacles, the party is a hit. I mean, as much as it can be with our families on separate sides of the room, pretending like the other doesn’t exist, both using the residents of Strawberry Hollow as a buffer between them.
It’s clear that people are enjoying themselves, the band keeping the room lively, but there’s still… unresolved tension hanging heavily in the air.
Everyone is kind of standing around, waiting with bated breath for the other shoe to drop, and I don’t blame them.
“Man, a lot happened in three weeks.”