Page 142 of Mingle All the Way

He thought about teaching Dena’s class how to play guitar, and the B and B, and Reggie telling him to be careful with Dena’s heart.

“I have.”

“I don’t like it.”

She turned and stalked away, her high-heeled boots clicking on the concrete floor. He watched her go, thinking he’d made a lucky escape.

When he was back home, he would tell Dena about the encounter. Then he would pull her into his arms and kiss her. He would tell her how he felt, and they would talk about the future. Maybe they would go back to her place and make love for the first time. He wasn’t sure of the details or how it would all play out, but he knew for sure that he’d found something solid and precious, and he was never going to let it go.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Perhaps a little late in life, Dena realized she didn’t have it in her to play it cool. She was a bundle of nerves, and she couldn’t seem to fake casual interest or lack of worry. She’d felt sick to her stomach since waking up that morning. By quarter to eight in the evening, she was a mess.

“Maybe you should pace,” Reggie offered helpfully as she stirred the brown sugar, corn syrup and butter that would become the coating for the homemade caramel corn they would be sharing during the live holiday special that was about to start. “Burn off some energy.”

“I’m nervous,” she admitted.

“The man’s been texting you multiple times a day. He misses you.”

“I hope so.”

In her head she knew Reggie was right. Micah had been staying in touch regularly. But her heart was more concerned about his absence. He was down in LA, where life was different. His old life was there—what if he decided he liked that better than the slow, easy pace of things in Wishing Tree? What if he met a cute, not-pregnant woman?

As if that wasn’t enough, she was also wondering about the song. He’d said she’d inspired him, but she didn’t know what that meant. Would it be meaningful? Or was it a silly holiday song about talking rabbits and she was reading way too much into his comments?

Why hadn’t they talked about their feelings before he left? What if he never came back? What if she’d snored and he was disgusted and never wanted to see her again?

Their mom walked into the kitchen. “All right, girls. It’s time.”

They brought the caramel popcorn into the family room. A commercial ended, and then they were staring at a beautiful stage decorated for the holidays. The announcer spoke.

“Live from Los Angeles, California, a celebration of the season with our guests.” He started listing the artists, giving a special shout-out to Micah Ruiz. Dena’s stomach flipped. The show was two hours and Micah was toward the end. She didn’t know how she was going to hold it together that long.

Finally, after dozens of performances, the camera panned across a large orchestra before stopping on Micah, seated on a stool. The audience went still, waiting.

The first notes of the beautiful melody had her catching her breath. Then he began to sing.

I thought I’d be alone this Christmas.