“John, Jack . . .?” Gladys trails off. Her fingers have a trace of arthritis, bent as she taps against her temple for a moment. “I got it!” she shouts, hands coming together with a clap. “Jace!”
The blood in my ears pulses in time with the movement of the ornament I’m holding as it drops from my hand to the floor and shatters into a thousand pieces.
Chapter Five
Ivy
Jace? You said his name is Jace?” I ask, trying to make my voice firm, but I can feel the weakness behind the words. My breath feels caught in my throat. My thoughts race. A slideshow of images passes through my brain: ice skating on a deserted rink, hot chocolate, the warmest of hugs, the ghost of our kiss, the feeling of his hands cupping my jaw.
“Yes, Jace! That’s it!” She pauses, her eyes taking in my distressed state. “Are you all right, dearie? You look like you’ve seen a fake Santa!”
Grey glides alongside me, comforting me as only she can, with a compassionate smile and eyes full of concern. “What do you say we take a walk and get a hot chocolate, huh?”
Numbly, I nod, grateful that my friend has the decency to know I need some frosty air in my lungs before I fall to the floor and shatter like the poor Christmas decoration I just massacred.
“Gladys, will you watch the shop for me? Dad is upstairs. I’ll bring you a croissant!” Grey doesn’t wait for a response before she pulls us out the door and onto the sidewalk in front of the bookshop. My dance bag has appeared around her shoulders, and one of her arms is threaded through mine, our bodies moving as a team toward Sparrow’s Beret.
“You don’t have a coat,” I mumble as Grey rushes us onward, no doubt frightened that pausing even for a moment could leave me frozen.
“I’ll be just fine. You, on the other hand . . .” She doesn’t finish the sentence but uses her free hand to open the door. The smell of butter, caramelized sugar, and rich espresso brings an immediate wave of comfort on a visceral level.
Sparrow looks up from the pastry case, her brown hair tied back in a ribbon. Her fringe bangs fall into her eyes as she straightens to greet us, and she lifts a hand to brush them out of the way. Her smile is wide before it drops, no doubt seeing the numb expression etched across my face.
“Ivy’s special version of your French hot chocolate, with extra whipped cream, please. Stat,” Grey says for me.
Sparrow gives a knowing nod, her elegant frame moving quickly to whip up the sweet concoction.
Lily appears from behind the swinging door that leads to the kitchen. A wooden spoon in one hand is dripping melted chocolate onto the floor, her other hand carrying a tray of pains au chocolat. The co-owner of Sparrow’s Beret and Sparrow’s ride-or-die friend and defender of all those she loves eyes my stricken face. “Did someone say ‘chocolate’?”
If I weren’t so stunned by the announcement of Jace’s presence in Birch Borough, I’d laugh and grab an iced sugar cookie from the nearby canister. Instead, I grin politely at Lily as she moves toward us, her apron covered in drizzles of chocolate and stretched tight over her expanding stomach.
“How are you feeling, Lily?” Grey asks beside me, one arm still wrapped around my shoulders and the other leaning on the counter between us and my two other closest friends in town.
“Oh, you know. This baby seems intent on two things: shenanigans and chocolate. He—or she—won’t stop moving. The only time Baby stops jumping on my uterus is when Grahamreads to us at night. It’s not convenient. But I can’t blame this little one. They clearly already know their daddy is a good one and recognize his kind voice.”
Her hand, still covered in chocolate, gently rubs her stomach. The sight pulls at my heartstrings. Lily and her husband, Graham, have been married for over a year and are now expecting their first child. After a long road back to each other after a breakup, they had a second chance to heal their heartache. Now, they are about to bring a life into the world.
A decadent hot chocolate with chocolate shavings sprinkled across the top of the whipped cream appears before me. The warmth of it radiates through a ceramic cup with a sparrow design painted on it.
Sparrow, too, has her own love story with Rafe, her French husband. He calls her his muse as a musician and songwriter. Currently, he tours across the country throughout the year and works with various artists to make music that plays on the radio or trends on social media. If I remember correctly, he even has some shows coming up in Europe. The two of them are madly in love, and it’s their happiness that has kept me believing that true love still exists at all.
I take a sip of the chocolate goodness and let it warm my throat, hoping it warms my soul as well.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. Not really,” I say quietly to Grey next to me.
My hand is resting on the counter. Grey gives it a gentle press to affirm that I’m not alone.
He’s back.
Where has he been for eight years?
Jace and I were never in a relationship. We couldn’t have had a second-chance romance like Lily and Graham. We were never fated lovers, refusing to allow anything to keep us apart like Sparrow and Rafe. But something in me believes that Jace andI missed out on a chance for a deeper connection. After nearly thirty-four years of loving Christmas more than anything, maybe my reward this season is to see the hand of fate—or serendipity—ease the tension in my chest from so many unanswered questions.
But the news that he’s back in town hurts. And that’s a surprise.
I’m not sure how to feel about seeing the guy who never showed up. The guy who left me standing in the cold for hours, watching and waiting, hoping that if I just gave it one minute more, he’d appear. The next day, I stopped by every shop in town to ask if anyone had seen him.
Once, I thought I would have my own love story, but now I’m not so sure. And after all this time, I’ve realized that I can’t imagine that our one date meant as much to him as it did to me.
