Page 59 of Christmas Hideaway

"By accident."

"Or fate." I watched the words appear on screen. "They stay up all night talking about why stories matter."

"And neither of them can sleep after because they can't stop thinking about the other one."

We wrote for an hour, trading ideas, building scenes. Our styles were different—mine more lyrical, his more direct—but they wove together into something new. Something that was ours.

"What if," I said, "the successful one realizes the other one sees him more clearly than anyone ever has?"

"And what if the scared one realizes the successful one makes him brave?"

"They fall in love."

"They fall in love," Brent agreed, typing the words.

We kept writing, building the scaffolding of our story. The retreat setting, the late-night conversations, and the moment everything changed. It wasn't our exact story—we'd fictionalized enough to make it something new—but the heart of it was true.

The heart of it was us.

Eventually, Brent saved the file and closed his laptop. "Five pages. Not bad for Christmas Eve."

"Not bad at all." I leaned my head on his shoulder. "We're really doing this. Building something together."

"Everything together." He tilted my chin up to kiss me. "Books, a life, a future. All of it."

"I love you," I said. "So much."

"I love you too." He stood, pulling me up with him. "Come on. Let's go to bed. We can write more tomorrow."

"On Christmas?"

"Why not? Best way to spend it. Writing with you, being with you. What else matters?"

We made our way to the bedroom, and as we fell asleep tangled together, I thought about that blank document we'd started. Chapter one of our collaboration. Chapter one of our story together.

Tomorrow, we'd write more. We'd build our books, our life, and our future. We'd publish in the spring and see our dreams come true. We'd become partners in every way that mattered.

But tonight, on Christmas Eve, wrapped in Brent's arms with the key to our home on my nightstand and the first pages of our story saved on his laptop, I was exactly where I belonged.

The best stories are the ones you never plan. The ones that surprise you. The ones that change everything.

This was our story—Brent's and mine.

And it was just beginning.