Page 53 of Noel Secrets

“No.” Three voices cut her off at once—Michael’s, Ginny’s, Ed’s. The force of it made her blink, startled.

Ginny’s eyes shone with tears. Ed’s hand rested on her shoulder. Michael leaned down until their foreheads nearly touched.

“You don’t get to push your family away anymore,” he said firmly.

Jayda stared at them, wide-eyed. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed. The sound was broken, jagged, and it split her lipwider, blood spotting her teeth. She winced, hissing through clenched teeth.

Michael was already there, brushing his thumb tenderly across her mouth, pressing a feather-light kiss to the hurt. “Easy,” he whispered.

Her smirk curved carefully. “Care to make that…legal?”

Michael barked a laugh, the sound tumbling out raw with disbelief and joy. “Why am I not surprised Jayda Simone would be the one to propose? You always had to be first at everything.”

Ginny gasped, her hands flying to her mouth before clapping together like a child’s. “Hurry and say yes, Michael!”

Michael grinned down at Jayda, his heart so full it hurt. “Yes,” he said, voice steady, strong. “But don’t make me wait too long.”

Ed cleared his throat, his arm sliding around Ginny’s waist. “I do happen to be a judge,” he said, dry and deliberate. “In case you forgot.”

Michael’s eyes widened, flicking to Jayda’s. “How about Christmas Eve?” he asked, his voice suddenly thick and nervous. “At home.”

Jayda’s eyes filled with tears, spilling freely. She nodded, whispering, “Home is the perfect place.”

Michael sealed their pledge with a kiss, blood and salt and snow between them, but none of it mattered. In just a few days, they would be husband and wife, and Jayda would finally be a Blair.

Epilogue

Jayda stood at the end of her old four-poster bed, draped in soft linens with the same quilt folded neatly across the footboard and the same window that overlooked the snow-blanketed lawn below. As a teenager, she had walked the fine line between guest and almost-daughter, grateful for Ginny’s open arms but always keeping her heart at arm’s length. Tonight, though, it didn’t feel like she was borrowing a place to sleep. Tonight, she was home.

Her reflection in the mirror startled her. The white winter velvet dress hugged her frame, elegant yet simple, the hem brushing her ankles. It wasn’t anything flashy. She didn’t want glitter or lace. Her pink bedazzled stun gun proved glitz didn’t make her strong. Velvet felt solid and warm, and for the first time in years, she saw not just the survivor or the street-smart girl who had fought her way through too many battles. She saw a warrior bride.

Michael’s bride.

It took her far too long to realize her mother would have been happy for her, happy to see her in this house, embraced by a family that refused to let her go, and loved by a man she could trust with her life. For so long, Jayda had carried guilt, believingher mother’s struggles meant Jayda had no right to find her place to belong. But she forgot that was what her mother had fought so hard for—a home for her daughter.

A soft knock pulled her from her thoughts. Her heart jumped.

She cracked the door open an inch. Michael stood there, tall and ridiculously handsome in his dark suit. His tie was slightly crooked, his hair tousled as though he’d been running his hands through it since the moment they’d parted. His beautiful blue eyes warmed when they found hers.

“You can’t see me,” she whispered through the slit. “Not before the ceremony.”

His grin was pure trouble. “Then this’ll have to be quick.” He leaned down and stole a kiss through the narrow opening, his lips brushing hers, sending heat curling all the way to her toes.

“Michael,” she warned, breathless.

“You’re missing something,” he said. His hand slipped into his pocket and came back with a small, timeworn box.

Her breath caught. “Another gift?”

“Another? What other gift have I given you?”

“Too many to count,” she said in all seriousness.

He smiled. “Have I told you I love you?” he said and opened the box to reveal a diamond ring inside. The breathtaking solitaire with an old-world cut, set in platinum, looked to have weathered time without losing its strength. Michael’s eyes glistened as he continued, “This belonged to my grandmother. She’d be so happy to see it on you.”

Jayda pulled the door wider, her hand flying to her mouth. “Michael…” Jayda traced the cool metal, humbled. “I wish I had known her personally. But her gift…I’ll always cherish it.”

“You already honor her,” Michael said, his voice catching. “You honor all of us.”