“As much as I’m glad for the result, do you want to tell me why the mistletoe I brought is now buried in the snow?” His grin tells me he’s not upset in the least, just curious.
“I’m sorry,” I laugh, the happiness radiating out of me too much to contain. “But honestly, Jace . . .” I bring my mouth closer to his, our lips barely brushing as I confess, “We don’t need it.”
His mouth captures mine before I register what’s happening, and the joy of it immediately settles into my bones and heart. Even with the mistletoe long abandoned, that’s how we spend our sleigh ride in the snow, holding each other and sneaking delightful kisses, the fluffy falling snow catching on our hair, blanket, and coats. The scent of pine trees and crisp winter air surrounds us as Jace holds onto both me and the worn ribbon that really has been my lucky charm.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jace
The clock strikes ten.
The world is covered in winter white. Ivy paces the stage, causing my nerves to tingle. When you grow up in New England, you expect there to be storms. You anticipate things getting canceled due to snow, though most of us are usually prepared to drive in it. We rarely lose power in this area, and the community has learned to adapt.
But over the course of this afternoon, as I’ve been painting the last details on the sets and Ivy’s been arranging the wings and the makeshift dressing rooms for her students, the inches of snow have fallen higher than predicted. I had my phone on silent for most of the time, only allowing notifications from my brother and sister in case Emmy had an emergency. As of five minutes ago, I received a text from Angie, asking if I am going to make it home tonight. Seeing as her apartment is only a few miles away, the question seemed concerning, so Ivy and I stepped to the windows.
Now, we’re staring through the glass at the snowstorm happening outside the high school, the streetlights in the parking lot illuminating the scene and creating an untouched canvas to clearly see the amount of snow blocking us in. My Jeephas several inches stacked around the tires. We could make it out if we leave now, but it’s not going to be pretty.
My phone lights up again with a text from Edgar.
Edgar: Wait to drive. The plows haven’t come through yet.
I sigh, knowing that we could be waiting an hour or more until the plow comes by with the rate that the white flakes are coming down.
“Jace . . .” Ivy says my name with a hint of fear, the word laden with meaning.
“I know, Starlight.” I tilt my chin down, noting the intensity with which her hot-chocolate eyes focus on the blanket of falling flakes. Their speed is impossible to track. If we stepped outside, I think we could disappear in a few steps.
“My kids. The scholarships. We had one more practice, and . . . I’m so tired.” Her bottom lip quivers, and I want to wrap her in my arms to hide her from the storm. I’d be her own personal igloo . . . except the warm kind. The analogy doesn’t work, but I want to be her shelter right now. I have nothing else to offer her except a distraction. And we’ll continue to make sure everything is perfect for her last rehearsal tomorrow.
Reaching for her hand, I give her a gentle tug, and her footsteps are barely audible as she glides across the tile floor. She’s a small woman to begin with, but I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to being unable to hear her walk due to her ballet training.
I open the large wooden doors to the auditorium and release her hand to walk through, but Ivy stops and turns toward me. She grabs my hand and pulls me into the room with her, looking around as if she’s forgotten something.
“Did you finish everything in here you needed?” I ask her, surprised by her urgency.
Ivy gives a tentative nod.
“I just want to finish some of the ornaments on the Christmas tree for the party scene. And then we’ll be good to go.”
“Can I help?” she asks.
“For now, I think you should sit and relax. Keep your feet warm. Find us some amazing music, and if it’s from a musical, even better.”
Ivy’s laughter lets me know I’m on the right track as I give her a wink and walk back to the sets. Picking up a paintbrush, I focus on the task at hand, knowing that, despite her laughter, Ivy’s heart is heavy. I know my daughter is safe at home, and I know that we’ll be safe, especially in this school, but Ivy has given everything for her kids to succeed during this performance season. She’s banked on donations coming in and on her studio being given what it needs to thrive for another year. But that’s who she is—selfless, giving, and, as is becoming abundantly clear, the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.
Distracted, I drop the paintbrush and kneel to pick it up. Rather than rising, I stay down, closing my eyes for a moment, suddenly unable to picture anything but Ivy in a white dress, looking at me in the way that only she does. In the vision, I’m declaring that I’ll take care of her, honor her, and hold her until my last breath. It’s the image I’ve tried to push down since we met, yet somehow knowing this is what my heart wanted all along.
A chair in the audience seats creaks.
“Jace? Are you okay?” Her worried voice approaches me, the scent of her vanilla perfume and the warmth of her small hand on my back bringing me back to the moment. My mind returns to the present, but my soul knows it’s never left my heart’s confession.
“I’m okay, Starlight. I’m okay.” I stand, and Ivy follows.
“You worried me there, Bear.” When my eyes well with tears, her fingertips press into my forearm. “You’re crying.”
I wipe my eyes with the heel of my hand and sniff. I take a moment to regard her fully, the wisps of hair I’ve grown so fondof wrapping around her angel face. I appreciate the strength in her frame and the grace in her limbs. And then a chime on the back wall of the auditorium rings throughout the space.
“That’s odd,” Ivy muses. “I’ve never heard that chime before.”
