Page 110 of The Holiday Makeover

Rory

Have you ever had a dream and then woken up to find out it was real?

And not in a good way?

I dreamed I was locked inside a commercial-sized freezer with no way to escape. I just sat there shivering, thinking this was how my story ended. Overwhelmed by the immense sadness of everything I was going to miss.

Tate.

Babies.

Finding out who Emma M. Lion really ended up with. Pierce? Islington? Hawkes?

Seriously, a girl needed to know these things.

Thankfully, I woke up.

Except I was still shivering.

And apparently, I’d been crying in my sleep. My cheeks were damp and cold, which was weird considering I was buried beneath a pile of blankets and George was curled up beside me like a furry space heater.

At first, I thought maybe I was sick. Running a fever or something. But I felt fine.

Exhausted, yes, but that was to be expected considering the kind of hours I’d been putting in every day trying to make this house shine for Coco’s celebration of life.

If my calculations were correct, Christmas Eve was seven days away.

Yikes.

Seriously, how were we this close?

I still hadn’t bought any gifts.

And . . . I was still keeping Tate at, well, let’s call it half an arm’s length.

Not because I didn’t love him. I did. So much.

But what if it all fell apart again? What if he hadn’t given me that ring because deep down he’d known he didn’t really want forever with me?

And I wondered why I was having nightmares about being locked in a freezer.

Except . . .

It was freezing.

Not to be dramatic, but I swore I could see my breath in the dark. It was probably just my groggy eyes, but still, it was freaking cold.

Then I realized it was more than dark. There wasn’t even a sliver of light creeping into my room. And a storm was raging outside.

We had been under a blizzard watch earlier that evening. Looked like that watch should have been a warning.

I scrambled out of bed and immediately grabbed a blanket, wrapping it around myself and my fuzzy Kermit the Frog pajamas. George barely lifted his head before falling right back asleep, which I took as his way of saying, I have fur, lady. You’re on your own.

First, I looked out the window.

Sure enough, not one streetlight was working among the flurry of flakes violently coming down. It appeared to be a doozy of a storm. A few houses still had Christmas lights twinkling, probably because most people in the neighborhood had backup generators.

This house had one too. Apparently it had chosen tonight to go on strike.