Our foreheads meet.
Electricity. Warmth. Harper’s breath brushes my lips, and for a second, I almost kiss her right there in front of the camera.
Marla sighs dreamily. “This is going to break the internet.”
We survive a few more poses holding hands under a wreath. Harper sitting in my lap on a velvet sofa (pure torture). Me lifting her slightly like we’re about to spin. By the end, I feel unsteady. Warm. Like I’ve lived an entire lifetime in one photo session.
“Beautiful work, you two,” Marla says, beaming. “You look like you’re already married.”
We walk out of the room in silence. Harper’s hand gravitates to mine. And that’s when I realize that maybe we should be married.
Chapter 21
Harper
The Holiday Banquet feels like a full-town reunion disguised as a dinner. Every table is decked out in pine garlands and gold ribbons, candles flickering beside handwritten name cards.
Ours says:
Harper & Ethan — Holiday Bride Couple
Ethan pulls out my chair before taking the seat beside me. My heart does that ridiculous flutter again. It’s annoying and persistent, impossible to ignore.
The meals are plated with roast turkey, cranberry chutney, fancy potato stacks. The atmosphere is warm and noisy, and despite myself, I enjoy it.
At first. Then the parade of questions begins.
“So how did you two meet?”
“Is it true you’re staying at the lodge’s honeymoon suite?”
“When did you realize you were in love?”
Ethan stiffens beside me, every muscle tightening like he’s bracing for impact. I try to answer politely, but after the fourth person asks if we want a spring wedding, I nearly choke on my cranberry chutney.
Ethan leans in, his breath warm near my ear. “You okay?”
I nod, though I’m not sure I convince anyone. “Just … overwhelmed.”
His hand slides under the table, finding my knee. A slow, steady pressure that grounds me. “I’m here — in this with you.”
Halfway through dessert, Mayor Janice calls out, “Harper, sweetheart! Would you and Ethan mind saying a few words about your week?”
My blood freezes. I amnota public speaker. I am a quiet-in-the-corner-until-I’m-needed person. I can talk about snow globes for days, but relationships?
Ethan stands before I can panic further. “We’d be happy to.”
We. He saidwe.And then he looks down at me and offers his hand. Like he knows — because he does. He gets me.
I take his hand—warm, firm, familiar now—and stand beside him near the front.
Ethan clears his throat. “I don’t have much to say,” he begins, which earns a laugh from the crowd. “But this week … it wasn’t what I expected.”
He glances at me, and something softens in his expression.
“I thought I’d be miserable,” he continues bluntly.
More laughter. He smirks.
