Page 60 of A Newport Christmess

This time, I nodded with a little more confidence. Landon didn’t regret kissing me. And I certainly didn’t regret kissing him. At least, I didn’t think I did.

* * *

It was past nine when I finished the gingerbread house, and instead of starting on the next house like I should have, I quickly got ready for bed and jumped beneath my covers. My phone was charging on the nightstand, and I debated calling Ashlee to tell her what had happened, but I could see the wisdom in Landon’s words—I needed time to process everything. Currently, I was still wrapped up in the memory of Landon’s kiss and the pressure of his hands on my skin. But maybe in the light of a new day, I’d feel different, though I doubted it.

Instead, I grabbed my freshly charged phone to check in on my comments and see if anyone had tagged me in a post so I could repost it. Twelve new text notifications greeted me. Seven from Mom and five from Ashlee. I quickly scrolled through Ashlee’s partially worried texts before responding that all was well and I’d call her tomorrow. I drew in a slow breath and opened the texts from Mom.

Her most recent messages were full of worry about the storm she heard was ransacking the East Coast. I quickly replied to ease her mind.

Quinn: Hey, Mom! Sorry. The power’s been out since yesterday, and my phone died, so I couldn’t charge it. I’m safe and warm (now), and I’m sorry if I scared you.

Mom: Thank heavens! I was searching the internet for Nikki’s number.

Good thing I’d texted.

Mom: Did you figure out anything about the tickets?

Shoot! I’d totally spaced on it. Guilt pricked at me. Okay, I hadn’t totally spaced on it, but the few times I’d remembered, I’d procrastinated. And I knew exactly why.

Quinn: Sorry, Mom. I don’t think it’s going to work. But don’t feel like you need to get me a ticket. I’m fine spending Christmas here.

I dropped the phone in anticipation of her upset rebuttal. I knew it was selfish of me, and usually I’d comply with only the slightest bit of internal grumbling, but this year was different. I really wasn’t sure I could face Christmas at home. Not this year. And not with a newlywed couple who knew no limits to their PDA. And not when I could be here with Landon. Not that we’d actually spend Christmas Day together. He’d need to be with his family. But I wanted more time with him whenever I could get it.

My phone pinged, and I peeked with one eye to see Mom’s response, but the text that had just come in was from Landon.

Landon: Hey. In all the excitement, I forgot to show you this:

The second text was an image of me. Wait. No. It wasn’t an image; it was a video. I pressed play, and a compilation of the clips Landon had taken of me earlier were edited together and set to music. One of me laughing. The gingerbread house from a bird’s-eye view, then dropping around to pan across the portion of the roof that was finished. A snippet of me playfully scowling at him. And a zoomed-in one of my hands as they glided over the gingerbread, creating an intricate icing pattern.

Unexpected emotion stuck in my throat. In my real life, no one had ever taken an interest in my social media account. Not enough to do something like this. Sure, my family and friends liked my posts, occasionally even commented, but they weren’t the ones getting excited about what I had just completed and what I was doing next. At best, they thought my ambition to become an influencer was a fun diversion. At worst, they viewed it as a time-wasting distraction. But with one small gesture, Landon had validated me.

Quinn: This is amazing. Thank you!

Landon: You’re welcome. I was thinking you could post it to your social media account.

Landon: If you wanted.

I pressed play and watched the whole thing a second time.

Quinn: I can’t believe you made that today. It looks professional.

Landon: Before my abstention from social media, I used to help Nikki develop content. She’s a very thorough teacher.

The idea of Landon supporting Nikki pinged my heart. What would it be like to have someone you loved supporting you? I guess Ashlee did that for me, to some degree. But she was more an emotional support through the ups and downs. And Cody hadn’t been unsupportive—at least, not outright—he’d just never understood why I spent so much time creating content. Even when I was bringing in a substantial side income those few months before our divorce, he didn’t get it. But the truth was, I wanted to be an influencer because, for the first time, I felt like I had something to contribute. Something of my own. A small piece of the world that actually cared about what I loved. And they loved it in return—more so a year ago, but still.

So many people I knew digitally, and some I’d met in person, were making a living off their social media accounts. Why couldn’t I? I had been so close, and I knew there was potential to grow. I just didn’t know how to tap back into it.

Landon’s comment the other day returned with full force. I glanced at the video on my phone. Could the first step to resurrecting my following’s engagement really be that simple—posting videos and pictures with me in them again? I downloaded the video and opened Instagram. It was worth a shot.

FIFTEEN

LANDON

I took the stairs two at a time and knocked on the door. It still felt weird staying downstairs, especially after spending most of yesterday in the house with Quinn.

The door opened, and Quinn peeked around the side of it. “Hey.” Her cheeks turned pink at the sight of me, like she was suddenly reminded of what had happened between us last night. She opened the door wider to let me in.

I tried to read her expression and determine if she’d woken up with any regrets. “How’d you sleep?”