Cape Capri was almost the same all year round. It was almost always sunny, it was almost always warm, and the glimmering ocean was almost always an unwavering shade of clear, crystal blue. The only acknowledgment that it was even December came in the form of lavish decorations draping Main Street, and the even more outlandish ones adorning the coastal mansions by the sea.

I stifled a laugh, though it was mostly out of habit. Making fun of bored housewives who competed in the unofficial contest for the most outrageous holiday display used to be one of mine and Lola's favorite traditions. Then, somewhere between my seventeenth and eighteenth birthday, my mother became one.

She must have hired someone to decorate the house this year—she'd never seen a day of manual labor in her life, and I daresay that my Mercedes-driving stepfather hadn't seen many either. But somehow our entire property had been coated in twinkling fairy lights from top to bottom, not even the palms lining the drive spared from a healthy dose of Christmas cheer. Reindeers and snowmen dotted the sprawling green grass, waiting for the cover of night before lighting up the lawn in festive shades of white and gold.

"And you had the audacity to freak out over James' house," Noah mumbled in my ear, shielding the sun from his eyes as we stepped out onto the newly laid drive.

I swatted him away instead of saying what I wanted to—something pertaining to the fact that while they were actually rich, my mother was simply bored.

But if I thought that she was bored before I moved away, she must have been warding off a coma now. In my absence, she'd added a brand-new extension to what was once our modest little family home, with the scaffolding propped on the roof showing signs of a possible third story.

I knew better than anyone the pain that my mother was trying to cover up with every renovation. It was like each new brick concealed another memory of my dad, like she would collapse if she was reminded that he used to live here, too. Still, I couldn't help but sigh over the pretentiousness of it all. Especially when I considered what it must look like to an outside eye.

"What on earth do you have in here?" James asked, his breath catching in his throat like he was lifting something heavy. I turned as he closed the trunk of his car, my luggage stuffed between his hands while a judgemental smirk lined his lips.

I knew that he was only teasing me, that he was exaggerating the weight of my suitcase for the sake of some dry quip about women and overpacking. But that didn't mean that his forearms weren't tensing around my luggage, or that a little shiver didn't race over my skin at the sight of his muscles pulsing as he gripped it tighter.

I shrugged, stepping toward him and meeting his banter with some of my own. "We don't all roll out of bed looking like a GQ model."

Shit. Holy shit.

Did I say that out loud?

Yes.

I did.

I reached for my suitcase immediately, as if I could mask the heat dancing on my cheeks behind the black and gold lining. Mostly, though, I needed to deflect and distract as soon as possible.

And then invest in a muzzle.

"Thanks," I stammered, trying to pry my things from his grasp. But his hands seemed to jar around the handle, his brow furrowing for a millisecond before straightening out again.

It was almost as if he didn't want me to take it.

I finally worked up the courage to look him square in the face, question marks no doubt written all over mine. I couldn't help but notice the way his eyes twinkled like diamonds under the sun, or the way that his skin gleamed like gold as though it'd already soaked up its rays. For someone who grew up in a Georgian mansion in the near-countryside, James Bennet sure looked right at home on the coast.

He cleared his throat, pulling the suitcase closer to his chest and further from my eager hands. "I'll carry it up for you," he explained, his casual tone a stark contrast to the stubborn edge to his gaze.

I felt the urge to raise an eyebrow at him. To question his foray into the bellhop trade. But the familiar sound of Louboutins on pavement pierced through the silence gathering between us, a habitual dip in my stomach claiming my attention for good.

"Madison, dear!"

My cheeks paled, the blood draining from my face and settling in a bundle of nerves. I'd been so preoccupied stressing over Holly's spontaneous addition to our trip—not to mention Blair's spontaneous addition to James' life—that I'd left little time to stress over another glaringly obvious and totally daunting fact.

Not only were my friends visiting my hometown, but they were absolutely, undeniably, without a doubt going to run into my mother.

As it turned out, it was going to be sooner rather than later.

"My baby's home!" she exclaimed far too loudly, her slender arms wrapping me up in an embarrassingly enthusiastic hug before I'd even finished turning around.

"Hi to you, too," I mumbled, my voice muffled against her thick, chestnut curls. Her trademark rose perfume mixed with the refreshing smell of salt drifting over the cliff from the sea, and I blinked fervently in an effort not to sneeze.

Her bangles chimed against one another as took a step back to appraise me. "You look so beautiful, dear." She wrapped a lock of my golden hair around her finger, primping the curl before releasing it. "My baby's growing up!"

I blushed. There it was again. Baby. In front of my oh-so-cool college friends, no less.

I widened my eyes pointedly, nodding to the four people lingering behind us. Now was not the time to start sniffling over how much we missed each other, thank you very much.

Luckily, it took my mother zero point zero seconds to transform into the perfect little hostess that she so desperately wanted to be.

"You must be Madison's friends," she cooed coolly, her soft brown gaze fluttering over each one of them from head to toe. My mother prided herself on being a fantastic judge of character. She'd likely been sizing everyone up the second that our car pulled into the drive.

Noah, Dex, and Holly greeted her in turn before James appeared from behind them, juggling my suitcase in his hands as he silently debated how to shake hers. But it seemed that he wasn't the only one engaging in some sort of inner deliberation; I didn't miss the way my mother's eyes continued to flitter up and down his frame. It wasn't until James stepped forward that she regained some semblance of composure, a small, coy grin coating her plump lips.

James extended a hand, but my mother waved it away with all the playfulness of an impish pixie. "Honey," she tutted sweetly, "we don't shake. We hug."

I could feel my heart in my throat as she closed the little distance between them. As she pulled him into a very obvious excuse to—let's be honest—feel him up. Then and there, two options raced through my mind.

One, run away and hide forever.

Two, melt into a puddle of humiliation on the newly laid drive.

But when she popped her head over his shoulder, wiggling her eyebrows at me as though we were in on the same joke, option number three knocked the others right out of the ballpark.

"He's cute," she mouthed.

Die.

Number three was simply to lie down and die.

And perhaps I would have done exactly that if Dex, Noah, and Holly hadn't been watching me like hawks.

It was only when my mother released poor James and invited everyone into the house that I was suddenly able to breathe again. But that one breath turned out to be rather futile.

Because when James turned back around to flash me a sly grin—one that suggested that he was incredibly pleased with himself—my lungs might just have constricted for good.

"I think she likes me," he dared to quip. He even dared to smirk.

I swatted him on the arm before leading him up the drive, my fingertips lingering on his skin just long enough to graze that tensed muscle. With my back to him, I gave into the flutters in my chest, biting the pleased grin from my lips.

Maybe I wasn't that different from my mother after all.

While the bones of my childhood home changed more and more every time that I returned, one thing that never changed was the sea.

The vast blue ocean, the vast blue sky, and everything vast and blue in between were right where I'd left them when I set off for college. Every rock that framed the outskirts of the sand—keeping our section of the beach rather secluded from the rest—was laying precisely where it had been the last time I'd dropped by. Even the lifeguard tower where I used to sit and watch Eli surf was exactly the same, down to the familiar figure with long, silvery curls who stared out into the roaring ocean like a forlorn navy widow.

My stomach flipped more and more the longer that I watched her, the memory of a past pain piercing my chest as though it were new. I'd come so far in the past few months, and I'd worked through as much of my heartbreak as I could have on my own. It was only upon returning, upon seeing her in the flesh, that I realized that I was still a couple of steps away from true closure.

"I was thinking that the boys could stay in the lounge downstairs, and Holly can stay in the spare room up here."

My mother's commanding voice drifted up the staircase, and I turned from my bedroom window to join her and whoever she was talking to out on the landing.

"That sounds fine, darling," a familiar male voice replied.

I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Madison!" My stepfather, David, beamed. His brown hair was sporting a few more grey strands since I'd last seen him, but his eyes were just as bright as they widened behind his glasses. David had always reminded me of an introverted Jude Law, and he looked exactly like his character from The Holiday when he wore the black frames.

We stepped forward at the same time, almost crashing into one another as we attempted to return the other's greeting. I'd gone for a hug while he'd gone for a kiss on the cheek, resulting in a seemingly never-ending game of duck-and-weave.

Things between David and me had always been kind of awkward. He was nice enough, and he treated my mother like the true queen she thought she was, but we'd never really had a chance to bond before I moved away to Camden. It probably didn't help that seeing anyone with my mother that wasn't my dad still made me mourn the life I once had.

"I'm sorry that I can't stick around," he apologized after we got the whole greeting-thing down. Or as close to down as the two of us could muster. "I have to pop by the office."

Surprise, surprise.

Though it wasn't like my mother's renovation obsession was paying for itself.

Her earlier words were still ringing in my ears, and I cocked my head at her as David sauntered out of the lounge. "What were you talking about? Just now? About the boys in the lounge and Holly in the spare room?"

"I invited them to the bonfire," she exclaimed matter-of-factly, waving a French-manicured hand in the air. "I can't believe that you didn't mention it yourself, darling. You love the Christmas Festival!"

The mention of the annual event twisted the knife in my back. It was another one of mine and Lola's holiday traditions. Then again, basically everything in Capri was one of mine and Lola's old traditions. She'd been my sister.

Once.

"They can't stay," I told her plainly, sidestepping her observation and the emotions it stirred. "They have to get back on the road. They're going to the snow, and their schedule is pretty tight—"

"Well, that's not what the blond boy said. James, was it?"

"You already asked them?" I exclaimed, opting to ignore that strange, cryptic expression that had fallen over her sharp features.

"I did."

"And they want to come?"

She nodded, her fickle attention drifting over my head and down to the spare bedroom.

And I didn't know how to feel.

Truth be told, I didn't even know whether or not I wanted to attend the bonfire myself. My mother was right—I used to love it. I'd never missed it, not even that one year when I had the flu.

But the festival was a town favorite. Meaning that everyone in town was going to be there. After seeing that ghostly silhouette from my bedroom window, the last thing that I wanted to do was anything that could involve me running into it.

I fiddled with the envelope in my hands to keep my anxiety at bay, the reminder of what was inside pulling my focus from one problem to the next.

"Wait!" I heard myself call, the urgency in my tone drawing my mother back before she disappeared around the corner. I crossed the oak floorboards to meet her further down the hall, extending the envelope into the space between us sheepishly. "I found this."

She lifted a ring-encrusted hand to take it from me, the crease in her usually crease-free forehead emphasizing her confusion.

"It was on the counter with my transcript," I explained. "I didn't mean to read it, but I saw the return address and the logo, and ..."

She removed the contents from inside the envelope, pulling it out to reveal a Christmas themed brochure and two Christmas themed tickets.

Two Christmas themed cruise tickets.

Dated for the morning of Christmas Eve.

I grimaced. A hint of guilt clouded my chest as I realized that my spontaneous trip home might have spoiled someone else's spontaneous Christmas getaway. "Did I ruin your holiday plans by coming home?"

My mother's head snapped up at the question, her inquisitive gaze drifting between mine and the brochure in her hands.

"I feel awful," I continued, motioning to where David had been standing minutes earlier. "He must hate me. Really, I wouldn't have intruded on you guys if I knew." Could things between my stepfather and I get more awkward? Apparently, yes—I'd completely ruined his romantic December getaway.

"Sweetheart," my mother cooed softly, reaching out to squeeze my arm. She was still frowning down at the brochure and the tickets, but some of her confusion seemed to have lifted. She smiled, releasing a breathy sigh. "You're right. We did book a cruise. It was right when you left for college, back when we ..." she trailed off, but the inference beamed from her eyes. Back when we were hardly saying two words to one another. "I couldn't bear the thought of being stuck in this big house without you and your sister on Christmas. So, yes, I asked David's secretary to book us something. Anything, so long as it was far, far away from any reminder that you were far, far away." She squeezed my arm again, shaking her head in a way that tousled her copper waves. "I forgot about it, darling. It was so long ago. I'll be sure to cancel first thing on Monday."

I had a feeling that she was telling the truth, but that didn't make me feel any less guilty.

"Are you sure? It looks fun. And the two of you deserve to get away. David works so much—"

"David is ecstatic to have you home, Madison. We both are." 

I smiled meekly, unsure of how to take her response. The Dianna Watson that I'd come to know in the past few years was always bursting to get away from Capri, away from the reminder that dad was no longer there.

Maybe she, too, was trying to face her fears head-on.

"Go on." She nodded her head to the door as she broke away. "Your friends are waiting for you."

I'd promised the guys that I'd take them to get something to eat before they got back on the road. Of course, that plan seemed rather pointless now—they weren't getting back on the road. Not if they were staying the night. Not if they were attending the Christmas bonfire. Not if they were going to meet every one of my mother's stuffy friends and my old peers and teachers who no doubt had some wonderful stories to share about me.

And Eli.

And Lola.

Not only was I going to have to face my old life head-on, but my new one was going to be right there beside me when I did.

God. Why didn't I just drive myself home? Or off a cliff?

I sighed as I descended our staircase to the ground floor, a high-pitched yelp stealing my attention as my shoes hit the last rung.

Bandit.

I grinned from ear-to-ear as I followed the sound into the lounge, an equally high-pitched greeting on the tip of my tongue.

But then I stopped in my tracks.

Because Bandit wasn't alone.

She was playing with someone.

Someone who usually stood tall, who was usually collected and refined. Someone who was now bouncing along the cold floor as my black puppy followed him, yapping at him fondly as though he was the pied piper offering him a bag of bones.

James bent over to scruff up Bandit's coat, unleashing a shrill chorus of, "Who's a good girl?"

And a jar of emotion that I'd sealed so tight released suddenly in my chest.

I didn't know why, but watching James scoot about on the floor, uncharacteristically unrefined and childlike as he bounced after my puppy ... It touched me in a way that I'd never been touched before. It sent my heart fluttering like a wild butterfly. A schoolgirl smile dashed across my face.

No, I didn't know why, but I did know that I desperately wanted to plop down on the ground next to him, wrap my arms around his neck, rest my head on his back and let him know that I was there. That I was ready.

But was I ready?

I leaned my head against the doorframe, breaking my trance to gather my thoughts.

I made James a promise once. I promised him that I'd face my demons, that I'd try to become the kind of girl that he deserved. I didn't know whether he still wanted me, or whether Blair was who he wanted now, but that didn't change the fact that I'd sworn to try to move on from my past. That I'd sworn to let him know when I had.

But if there were still people and places that I was running from, could I truly say that I was ready to move on? To be free?

I hated the idea that was forming in my head. I wasn't even sure whether it was a good one.

But he would know.

"James?" I croaked.

He sprung up from the floor with a fright, staggering in place as he regained his footing. I was hit with the realization that while I'd been watching him for some time, he didn't know that I was there.

And he looked incredibly embarrassed about it.

"H-hey," he stammered, making a very clear effort to steady himself while Bandit jumped up on his legs to reclaim his attention. He swept a hand through his tousled hair, clearing his throat before motioning to the door. "Are you, um, are you ready?"

He couldn't have known what he was asking me. He couldn't have known that he'd practically read my mind. But he had. It was what made him so perfect.

"Actually ..." I stepped away from the entryway, fiddling with my rings as I tried to find the words to explain. "There's something that I have to do first. Can I meet up with you later?"

James' frown deepened. He took a long stride to meet me, Bandit hot on his heels. I swallowed a smile as his hand flew back down to pacify the yelping puppy. I couldn't even blame my dog for totally ignoring me despite us not seeing each other in months. Hell, I'd ignore me for James, too.

He cocked his head, his eyes eating me up with hesitant curiosity. "Is everything okay?"

"I think so," I answered honestly.

"Is this about Holly?"

"No," I shot instantly. I clamped my mouth shut, but James was still searching my face for answers.

I don't know why I felt so private all of a sudden. After all, this was the person I'd bared my soul to about almost everything in my life. And now wasn't the time to be keeping secrets from him.

Not if I wanted him to trust me.

"It's Lola," I explained with a sigh.

The confusion veiling James' face lifted. But a cooler mask was waiting underneath, one that gave little away except for a sudden flash in his sparkling blue eyes.

"Lola," he repeated, his tone uncharacteristically dry. He drew out the vowels of her name, testing the word in his mouth as though it might be laced with poison.

I looked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the seafront, my eyes drawn to the lifeguard tower instinctually.

"She's here," I told him, my voice raspy as it left my throat. "In town. I didn't think that she would be, but she is, and I ... I don't know. I need  ..." I trailed off, wringing my hands around one another. Not quite certain of what it was that I even needed in the first place. Answers? A fight?

It was only when James reached down to pick up Bandit, when those hopeless butterflies stirred near my heart, that I realized what it was that I needed.

Closure.

Because when I looked to my future, all that I saw was James. But I couldn't get to him if I was tied down, or still chained to any facet of my past. I had to cut myself free. Not from the people, necessarily, but from the pain.

I couldn't hide anymore.

James was studying me closely. Finally, he asked, "Do you want me to come with you?"

My heart softened. Bandit was squirming in James' arms like a three-month-old puppy, and I reached out to pat her. It was the closest I could get to touching James instead.

"No." I loosed a deep breath. "I have to do this myself."

Even with my eyes on my dog, I could feel James peering down at me. He stared intently for a moment longer. Thinking. Considering. I held my breath, waiting for his approval. Craving it. Not because I needed it, but because he was my best friend, and I wanted it.

Finally, he nodded.

When I dared to look back up, the cloud over his gaze had vanished. His lips—two full, curved lines—had lifted slightly, meeting in a soft smile that complimented the fondness radiating from his eyes.

With that look alone, with the way that it warmed my chest like a thousand burning suns, I knew that I was doing the right thing.

It looks like one of us is getting our Christmas wish!

Predictions for the Madi x Lola reunion?

What fun festivities do you attend around Christmas time?

My town puts on a Twilight market every year, and although I love perusing the handmade goodies, I mostly go for the Dutch pancakes and hot jam donuts. Carbs don't count in December, right?

See you soon!

- Danielle