Speaking of him, we’d posted “Missing Dog” signs all over town when we first found our canine companion, but no one has claimed him. I spot one of our flyers, tattered by recent snow and wind, and stop to take it down.
I think I want the dog to be ours.
Which means there is a we.
An us.
A Fletch and me.
On 4thStreet, I find myself window shopping, pausing in front of displays I would have hurried past weeks ago.
When I reach Once Upon a Romance, through the glass printed withSeason’s Readingsand a huge Christmas tree built of books, Gracie waves enthusiastically, beckoning me inside.
When I step into the shop, scented with paper and almond spice, she gushes, “The famous Bree Darling! I’ve been hoping you’d stop by.”
“Famous? Hardly. I’m just a small-town girl.”
“Maybe so, but you’ve made all the lists. It’s not every day we get a celebrity around here.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Except for the regular parade of NHL hockey players.”
Her lips bunch with a smile. “You have a point. But they rarely come inhere.”
“You’re right. I don’t expect they read romance.” I cannot imagine Fletch curled up with the dog and a love story on a snowy afternoon. Instead, he’d be reviewing hockey footage videos on his phone.
Gracie and I chat about possibly setting up an author event after the New Year. As I describe my current work-in-progress, I realize how excited I am about it now—how much I believe in this story.
“Your fans will love it, especially the locals, once they realize Cobbiton’s newest famous couple provided inspiration.”
I open my mouth to object, but maybe she’s right.
I’m still smiling when I leave the bookstore and pass the jewelry shop next door. Through the window, I spot a couple who radiate new love.
I instinctively reach for my notebook, jotting down details of their interaction—the tenderness in his movements, her subtle lean into his touch. My writerly quirk is secretly collecting other people’s romantic moments like precious gems.
My gaze drifts to their entwined hands, matching rings gleaming. Then to my own ringless finger.
I’ve written several engagement and wedding scenes, but I didn’t get to experience either of those, even though I’m married.
Stepping inside, I’m surprised to see Hudson, one of Fletch’s teammates, selecting a charm bracelet. Ella and Jess, Jack and Liam’s wives, respectively, stand nearby as if in on the covert Christmas gift operation. At least, that’s where my imagination goes. I’m guessing he needed help selecting the perfect present.
They greet me and, in short order, I learn that he wasn’t sure whether Leah would like a thick or thin bracelet, silver or gold, but he already had the charms selected.
Jess says, “The solution was obvious. A medium-thickness bracelet.”
“Composed of silver and gold,” Ella finishes.
“They had to special order it, but it arrived just in time. I wanted the girls to approve it. Leah can be particular.”
“I won’t tell her you said that,” Ella says.
Jess makes a lip-locking motion.
“What brings you here?” Hudson asks as if he knows something … something about my marital situation that the girls don’t.
My cheeks flush. “Oh, um, just browsing.”
“For the perfect gift for your beau?” Leah asks.
