I look up at him, still catching my breath, and see the disappointment etched across his features.His jaw is set, a muscle ticking I’ve learned means he’s annoyed with himself.His eyes are fixed on the winners—a couple in their sixties who crossed the finish line looking barely winded.
“Alexander,” I tug on his hand.“Life isn’t always about winning.”His gaze drops to mine, one eyebrow raised.“Sometimes,” I continue, grinning despite my exhaustion, “we should just have fun.”
Before he can respond, Mom and Dad descend on us like a whirlwind of enthusiasm and camera phones.
“That was amazing!”Mom gestures for us to huddle together.“You two looked wonderful out there!”
“We came in twentieth, Carol,” Alexander points out, but there’s less edge to his voice now.
Dad puts his hand on Alexander’s shoulder, grinning.“You beat Chase and Amber.That’s what counts.”
I glance over to see Chase and Amber near the back of the crowd, both red-faced and arguing in hushed tones.Their matching pink sweaters are now damp with sweat, and their expressions are sour.
“Smile!”Mom commands, and suddenly we’re pressed together—Dad’s arm around Alexander’s shoulders, Mom squeezed between us.
The camera clicks multiple times, and I feel Alexander’s arm slide around my waist, pulling me closer against his side.His body is warm despite the cold air, solid and reassuring.
“One more!”Mom insists.“Alexander, Olivia, just you two this time.”
Dad steps back, and Alexander turns me to face him slightly, his hand still on my waist.I loop my arms around his neck without thinking, and when the camera flashes, I’m smiling up at him instead of at the lens.
“Wait!One with me, too!”Sophie appears, wedging herself between us.“I want to be the tallest.You two have to kneel down!”
The flash goes off as soon as we adjust our positions, and Mom laughs.“Sophie!”
I look over to see what she’s done, and in the picture where we are crouched beside my sister, Sophie’s fingers are making bunny ears behind both our heads.Wanted to be tallest, my foot!
“Sophie!”I groan.
She snickers.“You guys are so dumb.”
“I’ll keep that in mind when I change our running route tomorrow,” Alexander pats her shoulder.“We’ll increase it by another twenty minutes.”Sophie gives him a betrayed look.
“Beautiful,” Mom sighs, already scrolling through the photos.“These are going in the Christmas album.”
We start untying the tinsel carefully—it’s somehow still intact, a small miracle.Alexander works the knot loose from our ankles, and I watch as he carefully winds the silver strand around his fingers before tucking it into his coat pocket.
I blink.“You’re keeping it?”
His eyes meet mine, and his expression is serious.“Souvenir.”
Something tender unfurls in my chest, blooming like warmth spreading through cold fingers.He’s keeping the tinsel.The fragile, ridiculous piece of Christmas decoration that tied us together for a mile.
My stomach growls—loud enough that Alexander hears it, and his lips twitch.
“Food?”I suggest.
“Food,” he agrees.
We follow my family toward the Christmas Market stalls that line town square.The race marks the official opening of the market, and the transformation is immediate and magical.
Wooden vendor booths stretch around the perimeter of the square, each one draped in evergreen garland and twinkling white lights.The sweet scent of roasted pecans and walnuts fills the air, mixing with pine and woodsmoke from the braziers positioned at intervals.Steam rises from hot cocoa stands, and the sound of Christmas carols drifts from speakers hidden among the decorations.
It’s like stepping into a European Christmas market, except everyone here knows everyone else’s name.
“Hot cider!”a vendor calls out, holding up a steaming cup.“Fresh pressed this morning!”
“Gingerbread cookies!Three for five dollars!”
