Page 74 of The Holiday Makeover

“Mr. Ryder,” Justine Gable, the mayor’s assistant, said, interrupting my exchange with Rory. “It’s about time to take the stage.”

I nodded and took one last look at Rory’s message before shoving my phone in my coat pocket.

From where I stood behind the stage, I could hear the mayor’s voice carrying over the square, warm and polished as she thanked the spectators, the parade committee, the volunteers, and the local businesses that had sponsored the event.

Then her tone shifted.

“And now,” she said, “we have a very special guest helping us light Aspen Lake’s Christmas tree tonight. You all know him. He grew up right here in our town, and no matter where life has taken him, we’re always proud to claim him as one of our own.”

The crowd started clapping before she even said my name.

“Please welcome Aspen Lake’s own Tate Ryder.”

The cheers that followed hit me square in the chest. I loved that sound—the roar of the crowd, as Coco had called it. Her letter and final words had been haunting me all night as I’d waved to my fans from the float. I kept hearing her tell me I didn’t need that sound. It was as if she were trying to warn me.

I’d been doing my best to brush it off. Telling myself it was okay to love the roar as long as I didn’t place it above Rory or blur the lines with her again.

And I wouldn’t.

Not this time.

Rory was my priority. She understood that I had a job. And this was part of it.

For the hundredth time that night, I pushed aside Coco’s warning as I ascended the stairs to the stage. The second I stepped onto it, I looked toward the fountain for a pink beanie and the face I loved more than anything, even the roar. That had to count for something, right?

The network lights swung my way, and the sea of people made it hard to spot Rory, but I did see her, and the twisting in my gut loosened. I raised a hand and waved. To the crowd, it probably looked like I was waving at all of them, but it was all for Rory, who I could just barely make out waving back at me.

Off to the side near the camera crew, I caught sight of Quinton looking entirely too pleased with himself.

I supposed I couldn’t blame him. His reputation was on the line as much as mine. After all, he was the one who had pitched Hammer and Hue to the network. And he’d gone to bat for me when it became clear Rory wanted nothing to do with any of it. He probably wanted to save the show even more than I did.

I took my place beside Mayor Steele near the mic stand, the crowd’s thunderous applause showing no signs of dying down. My parents stood in the front row, close to each other, but not together. The unease between them was impossible to miss.

My mom’s smile was another warning. It held both pride and worry. Earlier that evening, just before I’d stepped onto the float, she’d leaned in and whispered, Be careful.

I knew she wasn’t talking about riding down Main Street on a questionable platform dressed up like a winter wonderland.

More troubling was the way my father beamed.

It was like he was finally proud of me.

The twist in my gut came back hard.

Was this really what I wanted my father’s pride attached to? Wasn’t this very thing the reason our relationship had never been more than surface-deep?

Despite the warnings and worry, I put on my best practiced smile, ready to play my part.

“Thank you, Mayor Steele, and thank you, Aspen Lake,” I said clearly into the mic.

The cheers amplified, and I couldn’t help but smile wider.

“It means a lot to be here tonight and celebrate this tradition with all of you. It’s good to be home.”

Home? I thought.

Did I really have one?

I thought of holding Rory in my arms. The taste of her. The feel of her warm skin. Her assurance that as long as I came home to her, that’s what mattered. I was beginning to see she was talking about far more than Coco’s house. Her house now.