“But Jace can build anything,” he continues.
My heart sinks. And there it is. I look at the bunches of snow hovering near our feet. There’s no chance I will recruit Jace tohelp me, no matter how desperate I am for my sets to be built before our production. “That’s very kind of you to try to help me,” I begin.
Edgar’s brow furrows at my hesitation, a line between his eyes appearing. “He really is good. I can have him send some samples or photos or something?”
I cringe, partially because I do need the help, and I’d do anything for my students. The other part of the cringe is because, for once, I don’t know how to gracefully get out of this one. He’s clearly not aware of the tension between Jace and me. And if Edgar doesn’t know that Jace and I connected years ago, that doesn’t bode well for having a lasting impact on his life. After all, I couldn’t wait to tell Grey and my family after I had the best date of my life.
“I appreciate the thought, Edgar. I do. But . . .” My words trail off as I see Jace leave Angie’s pie shop, a box of one of her delectable pies in hand. His other hand is holding Emmy’s tiny mittened one. She catches sight of me with her uncle across the street.
“Miss Ivy!” Emmy’s voice rings out through the night, causing a few people to chuckle nearby. If only I could fuel this night with her energy. “Miss Ivy!” she yells again, her little frame pulling Jace toward us, even though I know that’s impossible, given his strength.
The fact that he follows her means he’s either in shock at seeing me again so soon or is content to follow Emmy’s will. I fold over to get to eye level with Emmy as they cross the street, willing my gaze not to sneak its way toward Jace.
“Are you ready for the parade tonight, Emmy?” I’m proud of the way I was able to get the words out. Focus, Ivy. It’s not Emmy’s fault that her dad doesn’t want to be around me. The little girl practically squeals and turns toward the line oftownspeople gathering along the streets, all of us waiting for the mayor to announce the parade’s start.
“Bro,” Edgar announces while patting Jace’s back in that semi-affectionate hug that only men seem to get away with.
“Eddie,” resounds the gritty voice that I’ve been dreaming about for only the past eight years and eighteen hours. Over the course of my life, I’ve received hundreds of comments on my own voice—its smokiness and tone—but if I could choose one male voice to narrate the story of my life or just the directions on my phone, I’d choose his. Hearing it now, even after all these years, even after all that’s transpired, it makes me want to dance and stand still simultaneously. I’m restless and calm all at once.
“Dude, you know you can’t call me that.”
“I can and I will,” Jace retorts.
I hold back a silent laugh at the look of indignation that flashes across Edgar’s face. Sneaking a look at Jace, I catch a grin hitching up one side of his still-moody mouth. The sight of it nearly makes me dizzy.
“Listen, Ivy needs some help . . .” Edgar starts, and my mind goes blank.
Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.“Really, it’s fine. I’m fine.” The lie feels salty on my tongue.
“You have someone else?” Edgar asks quickly.
“Well, not exactly, but there are some . . . prospects.” The last word causes me to wince. It’s what my parents call the men they try to set me up with when a new guest stays at the inn and recommends their son or grandson. If I had a fish bowl of all the business cards that I’ve gotten from my parents with the numbers of strange men on them, it would be overflowing. I’m convinced they have a picture of me hidden near their front desk that they whip out to show anyone eligible visiting Birch Borough. It’s the stuff of romance, their matchmaking skills.
Jace’s eyebrow lifts in my peripheral vision. Suddenly, we’re in a battle of wills. I’m determined not to look at him again, but I can feel that his gaze doesn’t leave my face, the fire from his eyes like a laser beam burning up my cheeks and bringing a flush of heat to my bones.
“What exactly does she need?” Jace asks, the question clearly directed to his brother as I become a third person in this sentence structure. I don’t know what metaverse we’ve entered, but it’s clear we’re trying to draw lines in the sand while the tide is coming in. It’s impossible and messy.
“Sets. For her Christmas show. Her contractor was in an accident.”
I focus on Edgar, hoping he doesn’t wonder why I’m only staring at him and Emmy and not looking at his brother. But I just can’t give in to the desire.
“Miss Ivy, my daddy builds things! Don’t you, Daddy?”
My heart is racing so fast I should be on a spinning ride and not standing on the street of the town I’ve known my whole life.
“Yes, I do. I build things,” he replies smoothly. He adjusts his sherpa-lined bomber jacket. I’m sure the warmth trapped inside is enough to last me the whole winter. As if sensing my thoughts, he nods gravely. “In fact, you could say it’s something I’m known for.”
My face heats again at the reminder of our date ages ago.
“But I don’t think I can help this time, Emmy,” he continues.
At this, I give myself permission to search his face, while a car horn beeps with delight. It sounds throughout the night, signaling the start of the parade. In the few minutes we’ve been standing on the sidewalk, people have crowded around us, doing their best to view what will soon be the annual Birch Borough Christmas Parade. Music from the season starts to play across the air, the speakers no doubt installed by Liam and his musicstore. Michael Bublé’s voice rings through the night, and I dare to look at Jace once more.
He’s already looking straight at me.
And then we’re frozen, staring at each other like it’s the first time and the last. I hate it. Because how can you share moments with someone, even from years ago, and they live on in your memory in such a way that you’ve been permanently marked? It’s as if your heart was split like a river by the encounter, and no matter how hard you try, affection will flow into its stream, never ending, always wanting to find its way back to you.
“Daddy, do it,” Emmy insists, her little arms crossed in front of her. “‘Help others where you can.’ That’s what you tell me.”
