Page 41 of The Christmas Door

Not dramatic.

Just . . . present.

The quiet between them wasn’t empty—it had weight, warmth, a gentle thrum she felt in her chest more than her ears. Luke’s eyes held hers, steady and searching, like he was trying to understand something he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

She remembered Miranda’s teasing voice—You two have chemistry you could bottle and sell—and how she’d brushed it off.

But standing here now, close enough to feel the faint warmth of his breath, Amayah couldn’t deny it anymore. Not when he looked at her like this. Not when her pulse had slipped into a rhythm she hadn’t felt in years.

He wasn’t reaching for her.

He wasn’t pulling away either.

He was simply . . . here.

And somehow, that steadiness—that patience—made something inside her loosen. Made her brave in a way she hadn’t expected to be again.

A tiny thought flickered through her:If I don’t move now, I’ll regret it. If I don’t trust this moment, I’ll miss it.

Her heartbeat fluttered once, soft and insistent.

Without planning it, she let herself lean toward him—inch by careful inch—drawn not by desire alone, but by the quiet truth that she wanted to know what it felt like to choose something good.

The world around them softened.

The breath between them shortened.

And then her lips touched his.

Soft.

Warm.

Undeniably real.

A door she hadn’t realized she’d been afraid to open . . . finally, gently, swung wide.

She pulled back almost immediately, breath unsteady, surprise widening her eyes. “I should probably apologize for that. I don’t usually do that. Ever. I don’t actually know what got into me.”

Luke didn’t step back.

And somehow, that said more than words ever could.

Luke forgot how to breathe.

Not because the kiss was shocking.

Because the moment had been perfect.

Every rational warning bell in his mind clanged uselessly as warmth flooded through him. He wanted—desperately—a world where none of this was complicated.

A world where he wasn’t here under false pretenses.

Where he hadn’t come to take something from her.

It might be too late to retreat from that, but he’d deal with that later. Right now, maybe he should simply enjoy this moment.

“No apologies. Please don’t say you’re sorry.” He reached for her hand, the contact sending a quiet spark through his chest.