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“Did you actually go inside?”

I looked up at the dark house. “No.”

“Of course not. What did you say to her?”

I leaned my head back against the seat. “Told her she should take time before getting serious with anybody.”

There was a long silence.

“Cole Maddox.”

“I know.”

“You told a grown woman who just rebuilt her entire life that you know what she needs better than she does.”

“I said I know.”

“Just making sure.” Her voice softened. “What do you want, honey?”

That should have been an easy question. It wasn’t, because I’d spent so long training myself not to want things I couldn’t control. Then I pictured Emmy under the Christmas lights with her hair held up with a pencil. How her hands moved while she talked when she got excited. How she looked with my sweatshirt falling off her shoulder. Then how she looked wearing nothing at all.

“I want her.”

Janice’s smile came through in her tone. “Then why on earth are you talking to me?”

“I said the wrong thing.”

“So go back and say the right one.”

She made it sound so easy. “What if it isn’t enough?”

“Then you live with that,” Janice said. “But you don’t get to decide how she answers before you give her the choice.”

I sat with that. Making her own choice was what Emmy had been asking for all along.

I ended the call, started the truck, and turned around.

I had no idea what I was going to say when I got there. For once, I didn’t try to solve that part ahead of time.

With the festival over, Main Street was quiet. Christmas lights still hung between the buildings. The lights inside Wrapped on Main were mostly off, but the wishing tree glowed in the front window.

I knocked. Waited a few seconds, then knocked again. I knew she’d been staying at her folks’ old place, and I was ready to head over if she didn’t come to the door. Something told me she was still at the shop, though.

A light came on in the back, and a minute later Emmy appeared. She stopped when she saw me through the glass. I couldn’t read her expression.

She cracked the door open a few inches. “Did you forget something?”

“Yeah. You.” Fuck. That sounded better in my head.

Emmy stared at me.

“I screwed up,” I tried.

“That’s a little better.”

She let me in. I shoved my hands into my coat pockets because I didn’t trust myself not to reach for her before I’d earned it.

“I was wrong.”