“I know what it’s like to fall asleep alone and question everything.” He clears his throat, and I know he’s hit a limit on this topic. But the fact that he’s been questioning and wondering about my life is clear.
I decide to give him an out. “What about you? I know I asked if you’re planning to still be here for the New Year, but are there any changes to your plans?” The once-hot tea I’ve been cradling in my hands has grown lukewarm, but I cling to the mug, relying on it as a comfortable way to keep my hands from reaching for him.
“I have Emmy to think about.” Jace shifts, peeking down at me from the corner of his eye. “She’s been my whole world.”
“I know.”
“And she’ll always need me, especially since I’m the only parent she’s had for years—has, actually,” he corrects.
“I know that too.” At this, I put the cup back on the saucer. It’s not Sparrow’s Beret, but Clark still has a knack for curating cozy things. Though, I’m convinced there’s not an establishment in this town that wouldn’t make you feel like you’re a part of its family. Centering myself with the comfort of the familiar setting, I try to gather my thoughts, my mind racing with the idea that if Christmas magic were real, there’s a future in which I could be graced with the gift of a duo that is Jace and Emmy.
“Starlight . . . this . . . with you”—I hold my breath at his words—“I don’t want to lose it. But I also don’t know how to move forward. Not sure I’m even good at understanding how to embrace the future.” His gaze drops to the bottle, and his jaw clenches. “You know you deserve everything, right?”
At the confidence in his tone, I take a chance and lean my head against his shoulder. I feel the aftermath of the vibration of his breath throughout his chest.
His voice is a murmur. “Sometimes, I feel like my limbs are getting colder. Like my heart just can’t keep me from shutting down, preventing warmth from reaching the rest of me. That feeling comes and goes in phases. And I’m scared of never fully feeling again. And I’m scared not to be able to give you what you’re worth.”
Lifting to my full height on the stool, I wrap an arm around his neck, gently pulling him toward me. I don’t typically give this much affection to people who aren’t my family or Grey, but Jace unlocks something in me that wants to pour out my tenderness while somehow knowing it wouldn’t be wasted. When his face is near mine, I whisper the words that have reverberated through my heart since I saw him again. “I’m scared too. But can’t we be scared together?” Forcing myself to be brave, I ask him what I’ve been wanting to ask all night. “Jace, can I kiss you?”
His eyes widen. “Ivy, I’m not sure that’s a good . . . it’s just that . . .” He sighs, the tension in his frame enough to break the stool he’s sitting on.
“Not on the lips,” I clarify. “Just . . .” I reach forward and hover a finger near the place his dimple loves to play hide-and-seek on his cheek.
Jace’s shoulders relax. “Yes, please.” His voice has become a fragile thing.
He inhales as I tilt my head up and place a gentle kiss on the side of his face. The heat and smoothness of his skin send a rush of warmth through my heart as the clock behind the bar chimes. Jace hums, and a peace moves through my limbs as he leans his head against the top of my own.
“For the record, Starlight,” he murmurs, his tone satisfyingly clear, “if I kiss you, I won’t want to stop. Just thought you should know.”
Chapter Eighteen
Jace
The clock strikes five.
“And a Merry Christmas to you!” says the postal worker behind the counter with a smile stretched so wide it would be creepy if it wasn’t so genuine. “Let’s. Get. Lit!” he yells as he clicks a button on his atrocious sweater. The tree that’s no doubt been hot glued to the front of it lights up, and the customer turns away with an unreadable expression on his face. It would be novel, except I’ve seen him do the same thing for the ten people who were waiting in line in front of me. The pattern is the same. He clicks it on when he hands over a receipt and then starts the whole process again. Now, it’s my turn to be the focus of his attention.
I’m not sure if his level of delusion is due to Birch Borough’s genius (or self-sabotaging) choice to defy custom and logic and keep their post office open into the late evening for the month of December. I decide to give him as much grace as I can muster, given the holidays. In the few weeks we’ve been here, this isn’t the first time I’ve had to deal with the chaos of this town and come out victorious.
I force a grin and walk up to the counter, a package for my parents in my arms. Instead of stowing gifts away on the plane, I’ve decided to ship them to Florida instead. Edgar and Angierecently bought their tickets to travel with us late on the evening of the twenty-third. It’s arguably the worst day to travel, but the timing is necessary due to my siblings’ demanding businesses. Weeks ago, we collectively decided to make this holiday as magical as possible for Emmy since I’ve been essentially hiding from my family for the past few years. With Emmy growing up and the job offer in Florida, it woke me up to the fact that she doesn’t have a history with Christmas like I did during my childhood. Emmy doesn’t even know what Christmas is like with her mom, so being surrounded by family is going to create memories she’ll hold on to for years to come. She needs this; I need this. A new path for a better future.
Still, we haven’t even left Birch Borough yet, and I already wish I could make it work with Ivy. Canceling my tickets and scrapping my travel plans is sounding more attractive day by day. My resolve is cracking like a pond that hasn’t fully frozen over yet.
The postal worker, whose name tag reads Stewart, looks up at me from his four-by-four feet of cubic space across the counter. “Say now,” he declares, “aren’t you the guy that’s been seeing our Ivy?”
As pleasant as he sounds, I don’t miss the possessive indicator that this town sees her as one of their own. I’m still the outsider, though I believe I’ve been given a bit of an express pass into the fold, to my great relief. It seems I’ve been accepted into the Birch Borough social life quicker than Graham or Rafe. It helps that my brother and sister had already built successful businesses here and were members of the community before I arrived. I shudder, thinking of how much grief I would’ve been given otherwise. Rafe and Graham are friendly; they invite friendship. My demeanor when I first showed up in town was . . . well, not like that.
“I am seeing Ivy . . .in a way . . . yes.” The words shoot a spark up my spine as they stumble out. I’m proud of being attached to her in any way, and especially with people thinking that we’re together, but the free-for-all prying that everyone around here seems to engage in is still disorienting.
“Excuse me, Mr. December?”
Instantly, I recognize the voice behind me. It’s coming from the primary troublemaker in this town, and I feel my shoulders bunching toward my ears, preparing for what’s to come. Gladys means well—of that, I’m sure—but she digs deeper than most.
“Stewart!” the older woman yells, appearing beside me and leaning on the counter. She’s wearing a festive garland in her hair, and it almost looks like her head is a Christmas tree, her accessories complete with earrings in the shape of light-up ornaments that dangle from her ears. “Are you aware of just who asked you to ship this box?” She looks at the label. “To . . . Florida?”Her mood takes a swift turn. She crosses her arms over her chest and faces me as the line of people behind us sigh with a collective groan. “You’d better not be moving, boy.”
I haven’t been called a boy since I was . . . well, a boy.“Ma’am?” I reply incredulously.
“Don’t you ‘ma’am’ me, young man.”
