It wasn't like we were emotionally attached or anything.
Except I didn't want to manage without her.
I wanted to see her face when she arrived, wanted to watch her try to hide her nerves behind that careful mask of composure while her cheeks blazed.
I wanted to know if she was thinking about yesterday as obsessively as I was.
The crowd began moving toward the rows of chairs set up in front of the stage.
Families claimed seats while groups of teenagers clustered at the back, more interested in their phones than the ceremony.
I positioned myself behind the stage curtain, out of sight, and tried to calm the restless energy coursing through me.
"There you are."
I turned so fast I nearly knocked over a stack of folding chairs.
Ember stood three feet away, dressed in a simple black dress and low heels.
Her hair was pulled back from her face, and she wore minimal makeup, but she looked stunning.
My heart kicked against my ribs.
"You came," I said, then immediately felt foolish. Of course she'd come. This was her job.
"You thought I wouldn't?" She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted an eyebrow. She was sassier than the last four assistants combined and I loved it.
"I wasn't sure." I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "I called earlier. Left a voicemail."
"I know. I got it."
"But you didn't call back."
"I needed time to think." She glanced past me toward the stage, where volunteers were making final adjustments. "We should probably get ready. The ceremony starts soon."
I wanted to pull her aside and have a real conversation, but the coordinator was already heading toward us with another clipboard and an apologetic smile.
"Ms. Harrison! So glad you made it. Let's get you into your costume." She handed Ember the gold-trimmed gown from yesterday, then turned to me. "Dr. Bradley, you're all set. We'll cue you in about five minutes."
Ember disappeared behind a makeshift changing screen, and I stood there feeling useless.
When she emerged wearing the Hearthkeeper robe, I had to force myself not to stare.
Red and gold were definitely her colors.
They brought out the pop of green in her eyes that had me staring again.
She caught me looking and raised an eyebrow. I cleared my throat and turned away.
The coordinator ushered us toward the stage entrance.
"Remember, you'll light the unity candle together after the first carol to symbolize the community is one, then you'll work your way through the crowd, helping people light their individual candles from yours. It's a symbol of spreading light and warmth through the community."
The music started—a piano playing the opening notes of a familiar carol—and the coordinator gave us a gentle push toward the stage.
The crowd applauded as we stepped into view.
I held out my arm, and Ember took it, her hand resting lightly on my sleeve.
