Friends, indeed. As if I could ever just be friends with her. I nearly roll my eyes at the thought.
My phone rings. I reach to answer just as I spot a man outside the music store across the street, a guitar case at his feet. His hands move expressively in a manner that seems distinctively French. I wonder if he’s Sparrow’s husband, Rafe. I recognize him from the stage at the Christmas Village.
I clear my throat but let it go to voicemail. If we talk, my mom will absolutely know that something is changing in my life. She’ll also comment on how I’m not sleeping well—which, I’m not. How can I when I’m this close to Ivy and still so far away? I never told Edgar or Angie much about Ivy. It felt like a secret that Mina and I had shared. But I finally told my mom one night when Emmy wouldn’t stop crying, and she had made me a hot chocolate. A man can only take so much.
I shove my phone back in my pocket as the man in vintage sneakers and a bomber jacket similar to the one I’m wearing approaches.
“What’s up, man? You’re Jace, right? I’m Rafe!”
His smile is best described as genuine. It seems like he’s actually happy to be here, introducing himself to me. He glances toward Sparrow’s Beret, and his smile gets even bigger. Ah, so I was right.
“My wife is Sparrow. Have you tried her croissants?” With a head tilt, he indicates the bakery’s direction.
I decide to be polite, especially because I know now that Ivy loves these people. “Yes, I have. Your wife gave me hot chocolate and cookies for my daughter on the house. She was kind.”
Rafe positively beams. “Yes, that sounds like her. She’s the best person I know. Now, tell me, how are you liking our town so far?”
I look about, the darkened mood I’ve been carrying lately shifting slightly. “It’s a good town.” So good that it has me questioning all my life choices.
He sighs with contentment. “It really is. We’re all pretty close-knit around here. And word on the partially cobblestoned streets is that you have a history with someone we all care about a lot.” His knowing grin is laced with both compassion and amusement.
“Yes,” is the only word I can get out. Something in me doesn’t want to lie to this man who radiates with the sense of just being a good human.
He reaches up and puts a hand on my shoulder, giving it a press. Our height difference clearly doesn’t bother him in the least. Usually, guys try to puff out their chest or do some sort of weird sizing up around me. Immediately, I notice there’s none of that with Rafe.
“Then fight for her,” he says simply. “Because there’s nothing better than being able to hold the one who already holds your heart.”
He grins, and I find that I envy him. Here is this man who seems to know exactly who he wants, and he’s vocal about it. And I’ve been . . . avoiding. That’s the best word for how I’ve behaved the past week. But I’m not sure how to fight for her when the rules of the ring have changed. Emmy is certainly a fan of her new dance teacher. My daughter’s passionate endorsement makes my mind spin. If Ivy needs sets to be built, I am her guy. It may be too late for me to have what Rafe and Sparrow seem to have cultivated, but can I give Ivy whatever I can, even if it feels like all I have to offer are the ransacked leftovers from the last eight years?
“Thank you for that,” I reply, clearing my throat and putting an arm around his shoulders. I underestimate my strength, and Rafe tips toward me with a laugh.
“Attention!” he exclaims, his accent pronounced. “I need my arms to play music!”
I grin and release him. If first impressions are everything, I already like this guy and have a weird feeling of hoping to see him again. It’s a change from the hermit I’ve been of late.I clear my throat. Running a hand through my hair, I turn my attention back to him.
“You were good. At the Christmas Village.”
Rafe seems surprised by my compliment, and I think that I really need to be nicer to the people in this town. Have I really become such a Scrooge?
“Thanks, Jace. I appreciate that.” He grins again. “D’accord, I’m going to go get a croissant. And kiss my wife. Do you want to walk with me?”
Across the way, I catch sight of Ivy across the street with a golden retriever that is wearing padded snowshoes and reindeer antlers. My throat goes dry. Immediately, I shake my head at Rafe’s offer. “Thanks, but I think I’ll have to catch you next time.”
Rafe follows my gaze and gives a knowing nod.“Got it. Yes, c’est parti! See you around. And bonne chance!”
Dipping my chin, I step into the crosswalk, waving at the cars that stop for long enough to allow me to get to her.
Her face lifts to mine as I approach. “Hello,” she says, the smokiness in her voice sending a shot of energy to my heart.
“Starlight.” The name is a test, an experiment, a prayer.
She scrunches her nose in protest. I want to say it again and have her welcome it.
“You know,” she begins, “you probably shouldn’t use your nickname for me. I thought we called it after our walk through the Christmas Village.”
My stomach tenses. I don’t want to think about my behavior with Ivy the other day. The truth is that I want to be near hermore than apart from her, so I focus on the individual I haven’t met yet. “And who’s this?”
Her eyebrow lifts, my attempt at distraction not lost on her, but she allows it. I exhale.
