“Honey, only you can figure that out.” Karmel’s phone vibrated in her hand. “My ride to the airport is here. Give me a hug and know I’ve got my fingers and toes crossed for you.”

“Thank you,” Chelle said as she wrapped her arms around her best friend and squeezed.

“Thank me by not ruining my record of one hundred percent of couples I’ve married still being together and madly in love,” Karmel shot back as she strode out the door.

Yeah, if only Chelle knew how to do that. Instead, she was stuck here in her apartment where even the dogs were giving her the side-eye since Nash had left. From his favorite spot on the top of the bookcase to get stuck and yell angrily for help, Sir Hiss made pissed-off hissing noises.

“What, you can get up there but you can’t get down?” She grumbled as she strode across the living room. “You know there’s being stubborn and then there’s just being obstinate. If you—”

The wisdom she was about to impart to the annoyed cat left her the moment she walked right into the corner of the coffee table, whacking her knee hard enough that she was pretty sure she could feel the pain in her right back molar. In that moment of absolute agony, everything came into focus. She looked at her living room—really looked at the placement of her furniture that she’d insisted Nash put back even though his arrangement had been better.

There was stubborn and there was obstinate, she’d been telling the cat. Maybe she should have been telling herself that—no, she definitely should have been talking to herself.

And in that millisecond, everything made sense, and she knew exactly what she needed to do and how she was going to make this right. All she had to do was make it through this afternoon’s Christmas party and then she’d take the drive out to Gable House, brave the attack goose, and tell Nash—she had no fucking clue what she’d say, but she’d figure it out. She had to.

Of course, first, she needed to move some furniture.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chelle

Surrounded by mistletoe, garland, and potted poinsettias in her building’s ornate meeting space that had once served as a glass-encased conservatory, Chelle had never wished more that she was anywhere else than the building Christmas party.

Okay, that was a lie. There was one specific place she wanted to be—with Nash. Too bad she’d fucked that up. Karmel was right. She may have—may have—okay, fine, had let her toxic baggage from her family take over and the results were shitty. All she knew was that she had to make it through the party and then she’d brainstorm what to say to Nash when she finally got next to him again.