Page 17 of A Perfect Christmas Romance (Kringle, Texas #8)

The next morning after Brandi Jo’s going away party was Saturday, just four days before Christmas.

Liv parked in front of the bridal shop in Fort Worth and got out.

Today was about Amy and finding the perfect wedding dress.

Liv’s news about her promotion could wait—this was her sister’s shining moment.

Inside the cheerful shop, white lace and tulle spilled from the racks, shimmering with delicate beading and soft, romantic designs. Classical music filled the air, along with the scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries.

She spied her sister on a loveseat at the back of the store, head bowed, tissue crumpled in her hand.

Uh-oh, what now? Liv rushed over.

Amy glanced up, her eyes red-rimmed.

Liv sat beside her. “What’s going on?”

“This wedding is killing me.” Amy’s hands fidgeted with the lace trim of her blouse, and she hiccuped. “I’ve n-never been so stressed.”

Liv rubbed her sister’s back. “Take a breath. Talk to me. Is it Mom?”

“N-no, it’s Sean.” Her voice cracked. “We had a huge fight over text just now.”

“What did he say?” Liv asked, aching for her sister’s distress.

Amy shredded the tissue, and bits of pale blue fluff drifted to the floor. “He said I make everything a big deal—including the wedding. He thinks I’m too much.”

Liv took a deep breath. “Amy, you can be a lot sometimes, especially to people who don’t feel as deeply as you do, but your sensitivity is not a bad thing, it just who you are. Weddings are stressful—you’re feeling overwhelmed, and so is Sean. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.”

“You think so?” Amy blinked the mist from her eyes.

“I know so. Have an honest conversation with Sean. Find out how he feels.”

Amy bit her bottom lip, accidentally smearing scarlet lipstick over her teeth. What if it’s not enough, Liv? What if I’m not enough?”

Liv’s expression softened, and she shook her head. “That’s fear talking, Amy. It’s not about being ‘enough.’ It’s about working through the tough parts because you love each other. Sean loves you, and you love him. Don’t let stress and fear dictate everything.”

Amy let out a sigh, her shoulders dropping slightly. “You always make things sound so simple.”

“It’s not simple, but you can manage the drawbacks. You’ve always had a flair for drama—you feel everything so deeply, but that trait is part of why Sean loves you. Remind him why this wedding matters—why you matter.”

Amy blinked, and a smile crept across her face. “You mean like plan a grand seduction? Meet him at the door wearing nothing but a boa and feather hat?”

Um, no. Liv didn’t mean that at all. But this was Amy’s life, and she could handle her bumps in the road her way.

“Remember, it’s not about a perfect wedding, but about being perfect for each other.”

“Our parents believed that once as well.” Amy clicked her tongue.

“You can’t base your decision today on what might happen in thirty years. Take life one day at a time. Yes, I sound like a fortune cookie, but there’s a reason cliches are cliches. They’re true.”

Amy gulped. “What if I screw things up?”

Liv squeezed her sister’s hand. “Honey, it’s okay if you do mess up. That’s part of being human. We make mistakes, and if we’re emotionally healthy, we learn from them, forgive ourselves and move on.”

“Thanks, Liv. You’re the best.” Amy gave a small, watery smile. “You have a knack for practicality. I just wish you’d take your own advice sometimes.”

Huh? “What does that mean?”

Amy arched her eyebrows. “You and Nick.”

Liv waved a hand. “Nick and I were over years ago. That’s bridge water.”

“Are you sure? You seemed excited about hanging out with him again.”

Was she? Nick popped into her mind and a shiver shot through Liv. “This isn’t about me, remember? This is your wedding. C’mon, let’s find the dress that’s perfect for you .”

* * *

The next evening after his interview with Matilda, Nick stood outside the gleaming glass doors of CBS Dallas, his reflection ghostly against the backdrop of Christmas decorations and bustling interns.

He looked like a man teetering on the edge of either a brilliant epiphany or a spectacular meltdown.

The truth was in the middle, much like his current position between the career he’d always thought he wanted, and the life Nick realized he needed.

The tablet notebook with the article he’d written clutched in his hand. It felt heavier than it should, laden with the weight of a story that would blow his world to pieces.

If someone told Nick a month ago that he’d be contemplating career suicide, he would’ve laughed so hard he’d risk spraining something. Then again, if they’d mentioned he’d be pining after his ex, who now lived in a town named Kringle, he would’ve assumed they were high on peppermint schnapps.

Yet here he was, doing both those things, feeling like he’d stumbled into some kind of Hallmark Christmas movie directed by the lovechild of Nora Ephron and Edward R. Murrow.

Nick took a deep breath and inhaled the crisp December air that smelled like a strange cocktail of possibility, fear, and the questionable “holiday spice” air freshener someone went overboard within the lobby.

He adjusted his tie, a garishly cheerful number covered in tiny reindeer. “You’ve got this, Matheson,” he muttered, earning a concerned look from a passing IT guy.

Great, now, he was talking to himself.

With one last glance at his reflection, Nick smoothed his hair and stepped through the automatic doors into the controlled chaos of the network newsroom.

Familiar cacophony washed over him—the rapid-fire clicking of keyboards, the urgent murmur of voices, the occasional shout across the room about breaking news and tight deadlines.

Holographic screens flickered with live feeds and data streams, creating a dizzying light show that once energized him but now just made him want to sprint back to Kringle and bury himself in a pile of pine needles and gingerbread crumbs.

“Matheson!” Jack Gallagher’s voice cut through the noise like a foghorn. “Tell me you’ve got something I can use!”

Nick turned to see his boss and mentor standing at the main control panel, looking like he’d been mainlining caffeine.

Jack’s tie was askew, his hair defying the laws of gravity, and he had a wild look in his eyes that suggested he was one technical glitch away from a meltdown of cosmic proportions.

“Oh, I’ve got something all right.” Nick walked over. Each step felt like he was walking through quicksand, his feet heavy with the knowledge of what he must do.

“Please tell me you got the Merris interview with a Christmas miracle spin.” Jack eyed Nick’s tablet like it might contain the secret to eternal ratings. “I’ll even take a Hanukkah miracle at this point. Hell, I’d settle for a convincing Festivus algorithm.”

Nick gulped, his throat suddenly drier than his Aunt Tessie’s Thanksgiving turkey. He thought of Liv, of her unwavering belief in doing the right thing, even when it came gift-wrapped in ugly consequences.

She’d told him once that courage wasn’t about not being scared; it was about being scared and doing the right thing anyway.

“I got the interview, but there’s no miracle.”

Jack’s eyebrows shot up. “What are you talking about?”

Nick shrugged, aiming for nonchalance but landing somewhere closer to a full-body glitch. “Turns out there’s no redemption arc. Marty Merris took the bribe. End of story.”

Jack’s hands stilled. His eyes snapped up to meet Nick’s. “You’re telling me he did it?”

“He did,” Nick said. “Matilda confirmed it.”

Jack scoffed, tossing the printout onto the control board with a slap. “So spin it. Make him a tragic figure, a guy trying to do the right thing who got caught up in the wrong stuff. Hell, say the guilt killed him. We can work with that.”

Nick shook his head. “I’m not twisting the story, Jack.”

Jack leaned in, eyes narrowing. “You don’t have to lie, kid. Just shift the focus. Find the emotional hook. Make people care.”

Nick felt the temptation gnawing at him, the easy out dangling right in front of him. All it would take was a tweak here and a little framing there. He could make it work, give Jack what he wanted, get the promotion and pave the way for Marty to land in the new museum.

But Matilda’s voice echoed in his mind. Don’t waste your energy on the dead. Time is a precious commodity.

And then he thought of Liv. He couldn’t do it. Not this time.

“No,” Nick said quietly. “I’m not twisting it.”

Jack stared at him like Nick had just slapped him across the face. “You do realize what you’re saying, right? You’re throwing away the biggest opportunity of your career. Do this, and it’s over. No lead spot. No contract renewal. You’re out.”

Nick met his gaze, steady and sure. “Then I guess I’m out.”

“Unbelievable. All that work, and you walk away? You’re gonna regret this.”

Nick smiled faintly, feeling lighter than he had in years. “Maybe. But not today.”

Jack pulled his headset back on, already dismissing him. “Merry Christmas, Matheson. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

Nick turned and walked away, leaving the noise of the newsroom behind him. As he stepped through the front doors and into the cold December air, he slipped a hand into his coat pocket and pulled out the snowman ornament.

The silly snowman grinned up at him as if to say, You finally got it right.

He exhaled slowly, the weight of ambition lifting from his chest. Smiling, he tucked the ornament back into his pocket. It was time to change his life.

* * *

Liv had just settled on the couch with her laptop, preparing to catch up on congratulatory emails, when her phone buzzed on the cushion beside her. She picked it up and saw Amy’s name flashing across the screen.

She answered cautiously. “Hey, Ames.”

“I did what you said!” Amy’s voice was breathless with excitement. “I went to Sean’s office first thing this morning and waited for him to get to work. I knew he’d be stunned—because you know me. I’m not a morning person.”