Royal Holiday - Jasmine Guillory Page 0,81

waterfall on the front. He turned it over and read it as soon as he walked into his flat.

She wasn’t going to take the job. And she’d told him first.

He read the card over twice more. Not only was she not angry at him, she was grateful to him. She’d thought about what he’d said, and it had made a difference to her.

He leaned against his door and smiled. Joy, relief, and affection for Vivian spread through him. He was so pleased she wasn’t going to take the new job. And he was so happy his words had made her rethink something so important to her.

He wanted to send her a gift to celebrate this decision. Something momentous, something worthy of Vivian.

He remembered something he’d seen the week before and had talked himself out of buying. He knew just the thing.

Vivian drove up to her house and smiled at the bouquet of yellow and orange and pink flowers in the passenger seat of her car. Their bright colors had cheered her up immediately when she’d seen them in the grocery store, and she’d bought them on an impulse. Why didn’t she ever buy flowers for herself? Just looking at them made her feel content and helped reassure her that no matter how much it rained, spring would come.

It hadn’t been the best week at work—her boss had been hurt and angry when she’d told him she wasn’t going to apply for the job, even though she’d told him she’d be happy to stay in the interim job for however long it took to hire someone else. She’d been more or less prepared for him to be upset, but she hadn’t expected so many of her coworkers to stop by her office to try to get her to reconsider. But she knew she wouldn’t—as soon as she’d sent Malcolm that postcard, she’d felt as if a load had been lifted off of her shoulders. The next day, she’d been happy as she walked into work for the first time in over a month. Despite everyone at work trying to change her mind, and despite how guilty and selfish she still felt, she knew she’d made the right decision.

And that very day, she’d called the spa to make an appointment to use her gift card.

She pulled a stack of catalogs out of her mailbox when she got home and sighed. Both Maddie and Jo had been happy for her—the three of them had celebrated together the day she’d given her boss the news—but she’d been waiting to hear back from Malcolm. It seemed like she wouldn’t hear from him again today.

But when she dropped the catalogs on her coffee table, a postcard with a castle on the front skidded across the table. She snatched it up.

V—Congratulations! I know this must have been a very hard decision on your part, and I’m thrilled for you. I’ve never met a person so full of joy and warmth as you are. It makes me happy to know you’ll keep stoking the fires of that joy. I’m so glad I could play even a tiny part in this decision. I hope you’re drinking champagne right now. I wish I was drinking it with you.

M

P.S. Watch the post for something else to help you celebrate.

A glow spread across her whole body. He’d never met a person so full of joy and warmth? He was thrilled for her? She grinned. Yes, thank you, he should be thrilled for her! Everyone should be thrilled for her! She was tired of others trying to make her feel guilty! For once in her life, she’d decided to prioritize herself and her happiness; not her family’s or her ex-husband’s or her daughter’s or her job’s, but her own.

She looked for just the right postcard from her stack and sat down to write him back.

M—Thank you! I’m so glad you’re thrilled for me. It really helps. People keep acting like I made this decision on a whim, but I think this was one of those decisions it took my whole life to realize. Shamefully, I don’t even have any champagne in my house, but I should remedy that ASAP.

V

Her eyes landed on his postscript. What in the world could that mean? “Watch the post” could mean anything: A pile of postcards? A letter? A present? She smiled. She could hardly wait to find out.

She didn’t have to wait long. Two days later, she walked up to her front porch just as a deliveryman