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“Hey.”

The sound of Micah’s voice made her knees go weak. “Hi. The song was great. So beautiful.”

He said something, but she couldn’t hear him over all the background noise. She heard people calling his name and congratulating him. Someone nearby was saying something about getting into the studio that night.

“Micah? I can’t understand what you’re saying.”

“I have to record a single. I’m not coming back tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

He said something else she couldn’t hear, then what sounded like, “I’ll call later,” and then he was gone.

She stood alone in the kitchen, not sure what to think. He’d phoned her—that had to mean something. And the song . . . well, she had no idea what it had meant. Could she believe he might care about her? Was it safe to let her heart open to him? Or was it too late to be asking the question? Because there was a very good possibility she’d already fallen for him. And if the lyrics were just that, she was heading for a very painful heartbreak.

Micah endured the praise and congratulations. He would catch Dena later, when it was quiet and they could talk. He didn’t like not being able to connect with her. Next time, he promised himself. Next time he would bring her. Or do his part remotely, so he didn’t have to leave Wishing Tree. With technology the way it was, he could easily perform from a studio there.

“You didn’t sing our song!”

The sharp accusation had him turning to face Electra. She glared at him.

“You said you were singing ‘Moonlight for Christmas.’ I was counting on that. You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie. There was a change in plans.”

“You didn’t warn me, Micah. You didn’t mention it.”

“Why would I?” He grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the growing crowd into the relative quiet of the hallway. “Electra, we haven’t worked together in years. I don’t owe you anything. I’m sorry you’re disappointed, but it’s time to move on. Find someone else to write with. We’re not going back to what we were.”

Electra’s green eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. “But she’s gone. She can’t keep us apart anymore. Why don’t you want me, Micah?”

He stepped back. “It wasn’t like that. She wasn’t the reason I didn’t want to write with you. That was on me.”

Being with Adriana had allowed him to see Electra for who she was. Adriana had shown him what it meant to be a good person—someone who cared. Dena was like that, perhaps more so. She had an honest and open heart.

He shook his head. “Move on, Electra. There are plenty of songwriters who would kill to work with you. Hold auditions. Find a couple of good ones and move on.”

“Go to hell.”

He walked back to his dressing room, where his manager was waiting. He would record Dena’s song and then he would go home. Christmas was coming, and he had a wedding to attend. But most of all, he had to see Dena. Without her, nothing was right.

“Belle, honey, there’s just no room,” Reggie said, staring into the soulful eyes of her dog.

Belle nudged her hand with her nose, then whined.

“Yes, I know Harrison is coming, but it’s his project. He gets to help deliver the hats.”

Belle looked at her and whined again. Reggie felt her resolve crumbling.

“Why am I such a soft touch when it comes to you?”

Reggie turned back to her SUV and began pulling boxes from the back seat to put them up front with her. If she could squeeze one into the footwell and stack two more on the seat, she could make room for Belle.

She shoved and pushed, then used the seat belt to hold the stacked boxes in place.

“Happy?” she asked the dog.

Belle wagged her tail.