Liam
We walk out of the restaurant, and she slips her gloves back on, smoothing the leather over each finger with slow, precise movements that feel far more intimate than they should. I leave mine off—the cold feels good on my hands—and she reaches for one without hesitation. Her leather-covered fingers lace through mine as she makes a right onto 60th Street, tugging me along like she already knows where she wants us to go.
I should feel ridiculous, walking beside her in an all-white suit, like I’m about to headline a Vegas magic show or pose for a boy-band comeback album. But I don’t. Maybe it’s because she keeps looking at me like I’m something worth looking at. Or maybe it’s the heat simmering under my skin, just from being near her.
We walk another block, the city humming around us, before curiosity gets the better of me. Or maybe the tension does—thick, steady, impossible to ignore.
“So,” I say, “be straight with me. Why the red?”
She laughs—low, warm, the kind of sound that strokes against my skin without ever touching me. “Since Aaron invitedme at the last minute,” she continues, “he forgot to mention the dress code. I didn’t know it was an all-white wedding until we were already walking in. All red was what I had.”
“It’s a bold choice.”
“I’m an old-school kind of girl.” She lifts one shoulder in a slow, confident shrug. “If I’m going to stand out, I’m going to commit. That said, I’m bold, but I didn’t love taking attention from the bride. That wasn’t the intention.”
It’s the first time tonight she sounds even slightly unsure. It makes her seem more real. And somehow more dangerous.
“Is the fish-out-of-water outfit the real reason you wanted to leave the wedding? Because you in that red coat against a terrace full of white felt like … fireworks waiting to happen.”
“Partly,” she adds, her pace slowing as her gloved fingers tighten around mine. “More than that … I wanted to leave with you.”
The words land somewhere low and warm in my chest. “Why me?”
She gives me a long, deliberate look—slow, lingering, like she’s memorizing me. “Well … it might have had something to do with you showing up, dressed like”—she gestures at me with a lazy flick of her leather-clad fingers—“a very charming marshmallow.”
I groan. “Terrific. Exactly the look I was going for.”
“Ahandsomemarshmallow,” she corrects, stepping just a bit closer. “The kind you don’t toss in cocoa. The kind you … savor.”
Her tone dips on the last word, and I feel the pull of it in my stomach.
“You want to savor me?” I ask, poking my chest with a finger, my voice rougher than it should be.
She nods. “I wanted to walk through Manhattan at Christmastime with a handsome stranger who could make meforget my senses for a few hours.” Her breath rushes into the air between us. “And maybe … a few hours more.”
She steps just close enough that the side of her body presses against mine, her coat touching my suit. It’s nothing overt. Just enough to make my pulse thicken. Just enough to make me imagine her without the coat, without the gloves, without the distance.
“Where are we going next?” I look down at her as she looks up at me.
“We’re heading back toward Central Park. I thought we could take a carriage ride. Have you ever been on one?”
“I’ve ridden a horse before, but never in a carriage.” I bring her gloved hand up to my lips and kiss the back of her hand. “Hey.” I stop walking and face her. “Thank you for doing all this with me tonight. It’s seriously the most fun I think I’ve ever had.”
“Really?” She smiles and tilts her head.
I nod. “I swear.”
“I’m glad. I’m having a good time too.” She turns, and we continue walking.
We can hear another street musician somewhere nearby, playing Christmas carols. There’s a comfortable silence between us as we walk.
Right before we cross the street to the park, we see a vendor selling various Christmas trees, some decorations, and a display stand with ornaments hanging from it.
“Hang on a sec. Let’s look and see what they have. You should definitely get something to remember this night in Manhattan, right?” She looks up at me, and the reflection of the lights in her eyes makes them sparkle.
“For sure, but I think you should too. I don’t want you to forget my handsome face.” I wink at her.
“Oh, there’s no way I’d forget your face or this night.” She takes an apple ornament off the hanger and turns toward me. “I’m really glad we were both cold and bored.”
