I cut her off. “I’m not ‘too’ anything, Gladys. I love my girl, my Emmy, but I made mistakes. I lost hope. I lost my belief in love. Ivy fell in love with a version of me that existed before my sister died. And no, this isn’t some condescending sap message. I’m telling it straight. Just like it is. That’s all you’ll get from me.” The last part almost squeaks coming out. I’m not proud of it, but it’s honest.
Her eyes widen, but I see she knows that I’m being genuine. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard you say yet.”
Out of nervous habit, I scratch the side of my jaw, unsure of how to handle her response.
“Ivy needs love. That’s it. And not love from this town, her studio, dancing, or even her family or friends. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. She needs love from you.”
My heart constricts. I’m ready to wrap her up in a hug when she holds up a hand. Suddenly, I notice that Gladys is wearing a pin on the exterior of her coat in the shape of Florida with an “X” over it.
“Where did you get that?” I ask incredulously.
Gladys looks about instead of at the pin that I’m literally pointing at. “I have no idea what you mean.” She gives me a winkjust as Stewart clears his throat and calls across the space, no doubt hoping to rescue me.
“If you have packages to send, Gladys, then you need to get in line.”
Gladys turns on her heels, stepping toward him as he backs up slightly from the counter.“Listen here, Stewart. I’m not here to mail any packages. If I were, I’d be here ‘til Christmas!” Her pointer finger extends. “And another thing! If you say, ‘Let’s get lit,’ one more time, I’m going to mysteriously cut off your power to this place!”
The whole line claps, and one man lets out a whistle. I’m pretty sure I hear, “Oh, thank God,” from a position about eight people deep from the counter.
Stewart swallows and then stands taller. “I have Christmas spirit, Gladys.” His shoulders lift, adding about half an inch to his stature.
“Well, good for you,” she retorts, “but you’re also full of it. Your house looks like the ghost of Jacob Marley himself lives there. You’re just doing this whole charade to get more votes when you run for treasurer. Plus, you forget that we went to school together. I’ve known you since you once confused crayons for pretzel sticks and ate them all. So, mail these good people’s packages, and don’t mess with me.” Crossing her arms, she gives a matter-of-fact nod before turning toward the door again. On her way past me, she winks.
“What a hero,” a woman with a baby in her arms whispers loud enough for me to hear.
Stewart looks toward the door and then back to his current customer, his expression clearly torn. Then he takes a pair of scissors and cuts the cord on his sweater. The lights flicker off, making his sweater look reminiscent of a storage container filled with discarded Christmas decorations you’d find in a garage. Poor guy.
I chuckle to myself, thinking that the mystery and weirdness of this small town somehow match my kind of weirdness. I think I might want this for Emmy permanently. If she grows up here and turns out to be half the woman that Ivy is—or even her friends, Sparrow, Grey, and Lily—then I think my girl will be doing just fine in life. There’s something special about this place. It produces quality people. Even Gladys’ meddling could work in Emmy’s favor since her heart is to protect those she cares about. The sentiment of the pin Gladys was wearing looks more attractive to me by the second.
I push the receipt with the package’s tracking number into my pocket and step outside. I’m halfway down the front steps when I spot golden-blonde hair wrapped in one of those vintage-style headbands with a knot on top. I know what it is because of Angie’s determination to educate me on women’s styles, so I’m not clueless when it comes time to help Emmy enter the world of fashion.
She hasn’t spotted me yet, but the snowflakes that are starting to fall cast a dreamy effect over her that makes me wish we were alone, hearing nothing but the quiet rustling of snow falling, our focus solely on each other.
“Starlight,” I grit out. Instantly, her eyes land on mine, and a smile that I’ll feel all the way until morning shines toward me.
“Hi, Bear.” Her quiet tone matches the moody weather, though it swirls with warmth despite the cold.
At her gentle greeting, I’m instantly hit with the realization that I can’t bring myself to think of anything other than wanting to grow old with Ivy. I don’t know why I’ve convinced myself for so many years that I should be alone. I want to hang up my boxing gloves next to Ivy’s pointe shoes every night. I want to wake up every morning and know that, even though I’ve dreamed of her, holding her in my arms is better than any dream I’ve ever had. I still need to tell her my deepest fear, but I don’twant to be the obstacle that stands in our way of happiness. There are challenges ahead, but if I don’t hold out hope for a future love story with Ivy, I may never find my hope again.
I want to be all in.
Trying to overcome the nerves pulsing through my body, I force bravery to the surface as the need to touch her pulses through my body. I draw close, bending over her, drawing strength just from her proximity. The urge to connect is too great to ignore, thawing the fear that’s been keeping me frozen. “May I touch your face?” I ask, needing, wanting, hoping for her permission.
The blush on her cheeks matches my own, heat pulsing through my skin. Ivy stares up at me, and her voice is filled with a raw vulnerability. “You can always reach for me, Jace,” she whispers.
Without hesitation, I lift my hand to her face, loving the feel of her jaw nestled against my palm.The antique clock in the square rings out, and Ivy laughs, her grin breaking the spell over the two of us.
“I think we’re stuck in a Christmas movie, and the clocks are still trying to tell us something,” I remark dryly.
“What do you think they’re trying to tell us?” Her smoky voice brings a shiver to my spine. Ivy has the best voice I’ve ever heard. I’d listen to her read construction manuals if it meant being allowed to hear her voice uninterrupted for hours.
“That having the chance to be near you again is better than any Christmas present I’ve ever received.”
The snowbanks are high, and the cold is fierce this December, but I can sense that we’re building something here. Sometimes, people give you the blueprints of what’s possible. It’s a gift. You can build from those blueprints if you find the courage. I don’t think I had the courage until this moment.
Ivy and I stare at each other until the cold burns my nose, but I’m too focused on her to mind that we’re partially blocking the pathway to the post office. I look deeply into the eyes that have fully arrested my heart, even as my to-do list hums like an annoying Christmas carol on loop. Tonight’s responsibilities are plentiful, including teaching a class, picking up Emmy at the pie shop, making dinner, et cetera, et cetera. And if I remember correctly, Ivy is headed to Grey’s tonight for their own Christmas celebration.
But neither of us disrupts this moment, even with townspeople milling around us. We’re wrapped up in each other’s spell until I’m hit in the leg with a bunch of shopping bags from someone passing by on the sidewalk. At my instinctive, “Ow,” we seem to startle and draw apart.
