vanished, replaced by the fierceness he’d seen in her when he’d seen her walking that first night. When he couldn’t have imagined all that had transpired over the past several weeks. “You and Sam will have your time at the beach. Join us for Christmas Eve service and then dinner at my house. You won’t say a word to him or to anyone about this deal for the factory.”
“Is that really—”
“It’s necessary,” she interrupted. “I haven’t worked this hard to make Christmas in Magnolia perfect only to have it wrecked now.”
“I’m not trying to wreck anything.”
“Then I hope you’re a better actor than you are a friend,” she said.
The words felt like a knife to his gut. “What about after tonight?”
Her chin trembled and she looked away. “Nope. Not going there. If I think about that, I’ll lose it. We get through Christmas Eve like everything is right as rain. Channel your inner Chevy Chase. We’re going to be the ‘jolliest bunch of—well, you know—this side of the nuthouse.’”
She walked away on those parting words and Dylan watched her car disappear out of the parking lot, wondering how his life had gone to hell so quickly.
It was like ten years ago all over again. Maybe he’d done it on purpose. Or on purpose without realizing that was what was happening. He’d never believed he deserved the kind of happiness he’d found with Carrie, and now he’d proven it to both of them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CARRIE IGNORED THE doorbell as it rang insistently on Christmas Day.
She glanced at the clock. Two in the afternoon. Which meant she only had ten more hours to get through and this infernal holiday would be officially over.
The cheery decorations she’d put out around her house seemed to mock her. A trio of snowmen stared at her from their place on the bookshelf, tiny button eyes silently judging her for her pathetic broken heart.
The doorbell rang again, followed by a loud banging.
“Open up,” Avery called from the other side. “Or I’ll make Gray come over here and do his fireman routine to bust in.”
“Go away,” Carrie shouted from the sofa, where she’d been sprawled since early that morning binge-watching any show that was holiday themed. “Go have a Merry stinkin’ Christmas somewhere else.”
“We’re not leaving,” Meredith shouted back. “And I don’t need Gray. I can bust down this door all on my own.”
As if to prove her point, the door rattled on its hinges.
“Are you crazy?” Carrie yelled but got up off the couch and headed for the door.
“Not as crazy as you’ve been acting since yesterday,” Avery said when Carrie opened it. “We know about Dylan and his development partner.” Both women pushed past Carrie into the house.
“He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone.”
“Sam messaged Shae after he got home last night,” Meredith explained. “She called me this morning. It all makes sense now—the vibe from last night was faker than a pro wrestling match.”
“I thought dinner was fine,” Carrie lied. She’d done her best to get through the evening, buoyed by the festive moods of everyone other than Dylan, Sam and herself. But it had been a struggle and she realized she’d been a fool to think her sisters wouldn’t notice.
Avery wrapped her arms around Carrie’s shoulders. “You should have told us.”
“It would have ruined the day for everyone. I didn’t want that.” She stayed stiff in her sister’s embrace, afraid if she let herself do anything but buffer the heartache, she might never recover.
“You’re not alone,” Avery said gently. “You don’t have to take on everything by yourself.”
“There’s nothing to take on,” she insisted as she pulled away. “Dylan won. He’s doing the thing I’d tried to stop. Magnolia is going to become a haven for the wealthy. It’s not what any of us wanted, but we can’t stop him. We’ll make sure it’s not the end of the world as we know it.”
“Sam told Shae that Dylan isn’t going to officially sign until after the New Year. We can try to convince the companies interested in Magnolia to sweeten their offer for a lease or outright purchase of the factory and adjacent land from Dylan. We’ll ask residents to protest his plans and make sure the town council is ready to deny permits or approval of whatever he submits. We don’t have to give up without a fight.”
“I don’t want to fight,” Carrie said, her shoulders slouching under the weight of her disappointment. “Dylan told me I’m holding on to some sort of antiquated vision