“What do you mean you didn’t get her number?” Mina hisses a few moments later.
“I’m trusting fate with this one.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Like Serendipity.”
“You modeled your love life off a heartbreaking movie?” Mina has always preferred action movies more than the romances I enjoy, but her furrowed brow does not bode well for her opinion of my choice. Her lip is pulled in between her teeth, and an uncomfortable feeling settles in my stomach.
“Was that not a good idea?” I put my head in my hands. “It wasn’t, was it?”
“Hey, don’t do that.” Mina grabs my arm. “You took a chance. That’s so . . . unlike you.”
I nod. “I know. But in the moment, I just felt like I had to go with it. Like what was happening between us was bigger than me. It felt like something we could tell our kids about one day.”
Mina’s eyes widen.
“You know, if that ever happens,” I say quickly, realizing that I’ve absolutely shown my hand. I know that meeting Ivy has to mean something for my life. I’m determined not to mess up this gift I’ve been given.
“Okay, well, if your meeting was as magical as you say it was, and it seems to have been, then we’ll have to believe.” A wide yawn overtakes her face, and I shove her knee.
“Thanks for staying up with me, but please get some sleep.”
“Okay,” she relents, standing to go inside. “I do have students to teach and, hopefully, direct them to paint on paper and not their hair.”
I chuckle and collect the mugs, rising to follow her. When she reaches the sliding door, she turns back to face me. “Just tell me this. Did you at least get to hug her goodnight? Kiss her on the cheek?”
The memory of Ivy’s lips on mine and the feeling of kissing her back sends an immediate flare of heat across my skin. I toss the blanket over my shoulder with one hand.
“We kissed,” I say in a quiet tone.
Mina lets out a squeal and rushes back to sit on the coffee table, facing me. “I love this for you! Tell me more.”
“Would you like to see her picture?” The Polaroid feels as if it’s burning a hole in my pocket.
“Yes!” She waves her hands in the air. “Why didn’t you lead with this? You have a picture? Let me see!”
I pull the Polaroid from my pocket. Only a couple of hours ago, the owner of Four Leaf Cookies offered to take it when he realized we were on our first date. Mina pulls out her phone to shine a light on it and inhales sharply. Her eyes fill with tears, a contradiction to the smile on her face.
“She is beautiful.” Her eyes move to mine as she holds up the picture. “And you look so happy, Jay. Whenever I’ve thought of you happy, this is what I’ve hoped for.”
I clear my throat and pull her in for a hug, careful not to bend the picture. “Oh, M&M, what would I do without you?”
“Good thing you’ll never have to find out.” She releases me and sighs.“Now, I’m going to bed. And you need to do the same. You’ve got your woman to go and see again tomorrow. Or later today, given the time. But who’s counting the hours?” She gives me a wink and rises, a blanket trailing behind her like a cape. She slides the door open to step into the house and turns toward me again. Her smile is sweet and hopeful. “I think this could be your Christmas miracle.”
With that, she disappears. The door closes, leaving the porch quiet except for the humming of the space heater. I look at the photo of Ivy and me, even though I’ve already memorized it. The curve of her red lips and the shine in her eyes are imprinted upon me permanently. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out thepiece of ribbon. She trusted me with something meaningful to her, and the significance of that isn’t lost on me. I rub my thumb over the edge of the fabric. If it is a good luck charm, then I’ll hold on to it with everything I have, just like I plan to hold on to the woman who gave it to me.
Chapter Four
Ivy
(NEARLY) EIGHT YEARS LATER
Loneliness can feel a lot like doing your best to make it through each day while not having someone with whom to plan your future. You pay the bills, try to drink plenty of water, eat something that has a semblance of nutritional value, consume enough protein to fill Santa’s sleigh, stay off of devices but also get work done with blue-light glasses, have meaningful connections, try not to self-isolate, and don’t get too many parking tickets (not that I’ve ever had a problem with the law).
Throw in multiple failed attempts at dating apps, ballet slippers, and the quirkiness of my small town, and you’d see the cycle of my life. This is the rhythm to which I’ve set my days. It’s a daily attempt to hold on to gratitude even though I’m frustrated that I don’t currently have someone to hold on to. In the meantime, I’ve transformed from a professional dancer into a woman who owns her own dance studio. I take care of others. I have a strong community. And still, it doesn’t seem like I’m able to make progress in a relationship. Not because I don’t want one, but because—even all these years later—no one has looked at me like a man named Jace once did.
When I returned to New York after the New Year eight years ago, the most devastating part of it all was being forced to dancewith Dmitri again—newly engaged and not engaged in his work at all. The result was the end of my career as a dancer. During the spring, as we rehearsed for a new show, Victoria, his new fiancée, passed by the studio, and in his distraction, he nearly dropped me. To brace my fall, my ankle was forced to bend in an unnatural way. The injury ended my professional career. After all my hard work, my career was over before the new show had even begun. While I recovered gradually and can now dance again, the way my body moves will never be quite the same. I’ve learned to make peace with that, despite how painful that season of loss became.
