Every detail was perfect, from the way the bride’s chin looked stubborn and soft at once to how the groom reached for her, as if to put on a ring.
“Go on,” Jack suggested. “Give them a little weather.”
Cindy tipped the globe gently. Snow lifted like quiet applause, slow and suspended, then tumbled down around the couple, clinging to the arch. The trellis—carved in the same pattern that Owen Starling himself had used—became a lace of frost.
“How did you do this?” she asked in awe.
“Fritz did it, and I gave him pictures.”
“It’s perfect.” Her voice broke. “It’sus. It’s the trellis, and I know I’ve made such a fuss about that stupid thing, and—” Her throat grew thick. “I could cry just looking at it.”
“Don’t.” He reached across the table, palm up. “It’s here forever, where no influencer could boss it away.”
She squeezed his fingers. The earlier conversation about MJ and Matt floated at the edge of her thoughts—how life could be both steadfast and uncertain—and then drifted off like the last flakes settling at the base of the trellis.
Right now, right here, the world had narrowed to this table, this man, this tiny scene of them made into a snow globe.
“I’m going to put it in my new office,” she whispered. “As a reminder of what’s really important. Who is really important.”
“Us,” he corrected, lifting the tissue and box to fold it neatly.
“I love it,” she said, running her finger over the glass with deep, deep joy. Then she looked across the table. “And I love you. Thank you for this gift. Someday, long after we’re gone, I hope Nicole has this in her home and gives it to a daughter of her own.”
His face almost crumpled. “Now you’re going to make me cry. Let’s get through our wedding first before I fall apart as the father of the bride.”
She beamed. “That’s going to be fun, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” He smiled, deepening the lines at the corners of his eyes. “I love you, Cindy.”
“I love you, too.”
The soups arrived in heavy white bowls, fragrant and velvet smooth. Cindy took a spoonful and sighed. “Whoa, the kid wasn’t exaggerating.”
Jack tore a corner of bread and dunked it. “So, what do we do after lunch? Hooky is only real if you spend the day and do something wild.”
“Okay, Ferris Bueller.”
He laughed, then his eyes sparked. “Let’s hit the ice rink!”
“Oh, yes,” she agreed. “Red’s tale of ice woe made me want to get out there again.”
They ate with gusto and excitement for the next adventure, sharing easy conversation about this town and their past and a future so bright, Jack said—naturally—he had to wear shades.
When the dishes were cleared and the bill paid, neither of them was in a hurry to stand.
Cindy shook the globe once more, just a gentle flick of her wrist, and watched the flakes rise and fall again.
“I’m going to treasure it,” she said. “Not just the globe. This.Us. The lunch, the surprise, the way you still make everything feel like we’re thirty and not sixty.”
“Wait until you ice skate,” Jack joked. “You’ll feel every one of those years.”
On their way out, she slid her arm around his waist and looked up at him. “You know what I’m excited about?” she asked.
“The wedding? Christmas? A new year as husband and wife?”
“Yes,” she said on a laugh. “All of it, thefuture. For years I’ve felt like I didn’t really have one. Yes, I had the business, and Nicole will marry and have kids, but it was all…alone. All me. You’ve changed that, Jack. You’ve made me a ‘we’ again and…” Her vision blurred. “I’m so grateful and happy to have you back.”
“I am so honored to be half of your we.” He kissed her lips lightly and drew back. “But let’s go easy on the ice. We don’t need broken hips on our wedding day.”
