But that’s exactly what I was worried about. “Thanks, but I need to get to Platform 9¾!” I blurted, like she could somehow sort this out. Or I really did have to get to Hogwarts. By the time the train finally got moving, my heart was racing, and when we got aboveground, we only had ten minutes spare.

I put all my track training into practice. But it was too late.

The line was huge. There was no way I could get the photo and catch the train.

Totally drained, I dropped into a squat right there in the middle of the concourse.

The nightmare had happened. I had to make a choice.

Stay here and finish my #OneElleOfAChristmasDayInLondon to keep me in the competition. Or head home and admit defeat.

I had to put someone—or something first. But would it be the challenge and Dove? Or Fred?

Chapter Seventeen

Holly

Not going to lie, I was surprised by the group messages between Ruby and Fred. But my Wi-Fi was dodgy, and I didn’t want to put Nick in an awkward position by asking if he’d heard anything.

We were having the best time in Brooklyn and, with only a few hours left, I wanted to keep it that way.

“Okay, so even though this wasn’t on the list, I’m giving it a straight ten.” We’d found a place that only did desserts, and I’d gotten the birthday cake shake—it was so good, I didn’t even mind that it wasn’t Christmassy.

Nick grabbed the table as if he might fall over in shock. “Wow—are you, Holly Judd, really saying that maybe list life isn’t the only way to happiness?!”

“Never!” I did a slurp so loud, the whole place looked around. “Just maybe, maybe you lucked out just this once.”

“But we’ve done most of what you had planned, right?” I nodded, and in truth the list was pretty much the last thing on my mind right now. “And hang on—haven’t you finished the ones Elle sent too? What was it… Cheeze Pleaze Louise…” Nick picked up his empty cup and shook it at me. “Done. New York. Check. Party. Yup, Ms. Bacon… Which leaves what?”

I waited for it to dawn on him. But it didn’t.

“Justthemistletoekissthing,” I said as quickly as I could, like it was no big deal. Too quickly though, as Nick had to say “excuse me?” two more times.

“JUST THE KISS. UNDER THE MISTLETOE,” I eventually yelled, so loud, everyone stopped talking.

“Oh yeah,” is what he said. I wasn’t sure why, but when we first chatted about it, it felt fine, funny even, but now, it felt…weird.

“It means little dung twig.” Pause. “Mistletoe. Because it’s spread by bird poo.”

“I see.” Nick took another slow slip. “Well, guess there’s nothing I can do to help with that one.”