Faking Christmas(87)
“Blackout.”
EPILOGUE
“The future has not been written. There is no fate but what we make for ourselves.”
The Terminator
It was summer now. We were lounging on the porch swing at my little butter-yellow house. Miles was sitting upright and I lay across the swing, my head on his lap, rereading my favorite parts of Jane Eyre. A cool summer breeze ruffled my hair as we rocked gently. This was a favorite spot of ours—when he was home. He’d been off and running for what would be his last year of teaching with Outward Bound, trying to make the most of his white-water-rafting trips and rock climbing adventures while he could. He’d been picked up by his publisher to write a whole new adventure series and would need the extra time to write. The last book had come out in May, and so far, it was a smashing success. I liked to think that was due in large part to the last minute addition of a small love story featuring a charming heroine nicknamed Spanks.
Miles and I had made it through a whole semester as a couple. We tried to keep it professional in the workplace, but every so often, he would walk into my classroom while I was in the middle of teaching and plant a huge kiss on me before walking back out again—to the utter delight of my class. And me.
He might never love Jane Eyre. I might never understand his obsession with skydiving or The Terminator, but he also never lets me get away with a fake smile. My laughs were real and heartfelt around him. He was my wings, and I was his nest. He continued to help me see the best in Russ. He taught me to see that I had so much more love to give, and none of it deserved to be locked away.
He also pushed me to get out of my comfort zone, while still being respectful of the fact that my comfort zone was different than his. Together we discovered a love of kayaking. I kept us to more gentle parts of the river, but I found that I liked being in water. I was a decent swimmer and he planned to take me on a white water rafting trip later this summer. I might never become a full adventurer–I meant what I said about never going skydiving. Or rock climbing. Thankfully, he had good friends who enjoyed both.
It turned out I had been wasting my talents as an editor. After I returned Harvey’s thesis, Miles helped me set up a website where I offered my services for a fee. I became the first editor for his new book, and while he didn’t exactly pay me in cash, we managed to come up with an arrangement that suited us both.
I turned the page, almost to the part where Rochester admits his feelings, when something dropped out of my book. A clanking sound on the concrete followed. I slid off the porch swing, confused, and looked around for whatever it could possibly have been. Something glinted in the sunlight underneath the swing, and I tentatively reached out and picked it up.
It was a silver, oval-shaped ring, exactly from my dreams. A smile bit my lips as my heart began to race. I stole a glance at Miles.
He was now kneeling before me, an apprehensive smile on his face. “Spanks—”
He cut off when I glared at him and tried again. “Olive, I love you. So much. Will you marry me?”
I spent the next long moments thoroughly convincing him that I would. There were no more questions in my mind. No more doubts. I had given him my timid heart, and he made it soar. And in the words of the great Charlotte Bronte, from my second favorite book, “Reader, I married him.”
The End
Read the next book in the series!
A Newport Christmess
By Jess Heileman
Love can be downright messy.
Read the rest of the Christmas Escape Series!
All standalone, clean, closed door romances that can be read in any order.
Christmas Baggage
Deborah M. Hathaway
Host for the Holidays
Martha Keyes
Faking Christmas
Cindy Steel
A Newport Christmas
Jess Heileman
A Not-So-Holiday Paradise
Gracie Ruth Mitchell
Later on We’ll Conspire
Kortney Keisel
Cotswolds Holiday
Kasey Stockton
Author’s Notes
My husband was a travel nurse for a year and a half. During that time, our little family packed and moved and lived all over the country with him. One of our stays was three months in Montpelier, Vermont. We were tucked away in a tiny, run-down apartment during the spectacular fall and winter season and loved every second of our time there. I always knew I would write a story set in one of the most unique and breathtaking states in the country and when the opportunity came up to take part in this Christmas series, this little story was born. Though most of this book takes place in a fictional Christmas lodge on the outskirts of Montpelier, I couldn’t help but give the reader a tiny taste of what the town is like. I used to go for walks down Main Street, talking to my mom or sister on the phone and telling them all about how amazing it smelled, the charming old buildings, all the local businesses, and how friendly the people were on the street. We shopped at Shaws grocery store, and my sons and I had weekly visits to the town library. But our favorite place was Morse Farm, where we would stop to sample the different grades of maple syrup, say hi to Rex and James (the resident goats), walk the beautiful grounds, and grab a maple creme.