“Uh, great. Thanks.” Her voice sounded flat. Foreign to her own ears.

“I’ll try to nail them down and get something to you in the next week or two,” Marta promised. “Take care and keep those ratings up in Merry. Every little bit will help when we go into negotiations.”

“Will do,” Cat laughed weakly and disconnected.

Why did she feel like she had a ball of lead sitting in her gut? This was literally her dream being handed to her on a silver platter. At least it had been eight weeks ago. Things hadn’t changed since then, had they?

She’d be filming year-round. Living full time on the West Coast and crisscrossing the country four months out of the year. Sure, she’d have to give up some control. L.A. was not the economically depressed location she was hoping for. But she’d stick to her guns when it came to the quality of the instructors. She wouldn’t let a production company choose her students. That’s what negotiations were for.

It was what she wanted. Wasn’t it?

“Cat!” Her mother waved.

Cat waved back numbly.

She’d put this away for now, think about it later with a clearer head. For now, she’d celebrate a job well done.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

One week to Christmas Eve

Cat peered into Noah’s office. He was alone, focused on his laptop, muttering to himself. She loved watching him focus on a problem. He approached everything with seriousness and logic, carefully weighing options.

He’d been invaluable helping her narrow down potential locations for her school. Though, if she took the network’s offer, all of their work would be pointless. She’d be setting up shop in L.A. But it was pointless to mention it to anyone until she saw the official offer, so she’d just obsess about it internally until she saw what they’d given her agent.

The only time she wasn’t obsessing about whether she should say “yes” was when she was naked under or over Noah chanting the word. Last night, they’d spent a particularly adventurous hour in the backseat of Noah’s SUV after dropping Sara off for Elf Camp—a Merry tradition where junior high schoolers helped elementary students shop for their family members in the dollar store equivalent of Santa’s Workshop.

Giddy as teenagers, they’d shed their clothing and set that fogged-window SUV to rocking. She couldn’t tell for sure, but she thought there might be the slightest hint of a hickey poking out above the collar of Noah’s button down.

Cat knocked on the open door, breaking his concentration. “It’s time,” she said with mock solemnity. The advertising dollars had kicked in, and with a week to spare, Cat was squeezing in the new roof on Town Hall.

Noah rose, accidentally kicking over a bucket behind his desk. “Sorry. New leak,” he said sheepishly.