I want to find the weak man that did this to her and make him eat tinsel while I parade her around like the future princess of Sugarplum Hollow that she is.
Her lips part, opening and closing as she seems to ponder her words. But only a soft sound comes out as if the words won’t come.
I don’t want to fill the silence with fluff and words. I want her to feel the words, see how I feel, and know exactly whatI’m feeling. My pulse thrums in my ears, drowning the world of noise around us. My boots bump against her booties. The air hums with something that feels like magic and star light.
Her head tilts back further, those rounded eyes widening more, but instead of fear of the unknown, I see Hope gleaming in them. My thumb strokes back and forth across her cheek while my eyes move along every single detail. From the freckles lining her cheeks to the dark, almost melted chocolate swirls within her caramel irises.
From behind my back I pull out the pearly white skates from earlier, twisting from side to side. Her gaze flicks down to them, then back up to me, confusion and something softer flickering in her expression.
“Let me take you on a date, Berry,” I say, voice low enough that only she can hear. “Give me a chance to show you what it’s like to be cherished.”
The faint hum of the people talking around us, the distant Christmas tunes, all fade into the background until, for a moment, it feels as though it’s only us. Her frosted cranberries warmed in brown sugar and vanilla scent fills my nostrils, bringing a sense of home into my heart and soul.
Her lips part, the smallest smile ghosting across them, and I swear I can see the disbelief blooming in her eyes. She wants to believe me, I can feel it. But she’s afraid to.
Leaving home has felt wrong from the very beginning—like I stepped out into the world chasing something I couldn’t name, some answer lodged too deep under my ribs to put into words. I kept telling myself it was ambition, that becoming an architect would give me the piece of myself I’d been missing. But city after city, sketch after sketch, nothing eased the restlessness. Nothing quieted that hollow ache.
But now… something shifts.
It’s not really clarity or destiny singing in my ear. Just a small, unexpected ease in my chest, as if the constant pressure I’ve lived with has loosened for the first time since I left Sugarplum Hollow. It’s not about understanding her—how could it be, when I barely know her name? It’s about something in me recognizing that the emptiness isn’t permanent. That maybe I’m not broken for wanting more than the life waiting back home.
I don’t know what this feeling means yet, and I’m not foolish enough to call it fate or purpose. But I do know this: for the first time in a long while, I don’t feel lost. And that alone makes me want to stay exactly where I am.
Chapter Six
Cold Feet and Warm Hands
Holly
I’ve got to be dreaming. There’s no way, Mr. Tall, Broody, and Built-Like-Mr. December is standing in front of me with a pair of ice skates and asking me on a date. This only happens in Hallmark movies, but here he is as if he’s the male lead in A Christmas Prince.
He’s smiling too, the kind that is slow, confident, and melts-me-like-hot-chocolate. Making even the most rational thought seem impossible. How am I supposed to function after he leaves? Is he leaving? I didn’t even think he’d be here after we parted on the sidewalk, but here we are.
The corner of his lip quirks as his eyes flick between mine. I don’t know what he’s seeing because my brain is currentlybuffering like old dial-up internet. Am I breathing? What’s that smell? Because my goodness, I want to bathe in it.
He’s holding ice skates, a beautiful, brand-new pair. Why? The silver blades gleam in the twinkling lights around us. Am I supposed to understand what he’s asking?
“Bryant park,” he says, voice warm enough to thaw even the Grinch’s heart. “Six o’clock.”
“Wait, tonight?” My heart rate increases, I can feel my palms dampen at the mere thought of being alone with him so soon. “I didn’t know you meant tonight.” I squeak, my panic rising. I thought I’d have days. Like he’d say he’d take me out Saturday. So I had three days to determine if it was real, have a full panic attack, decide what to wear, and change my mind seventy times before landing back on the original outfit. Instead, I have a few hours.
“Ryatt…I—I have nothing to wear on a date with you. Look at you.” I gesture my hands towards his chest, waggling them in front of him from head to toe.
That grin. That damn sexy grin hits me square in the chest as he leans in, gripping my chin between his finger and thumb. A squeak escapes me as he leans in closer, almost touching his sharply carved nose to my smaller button one. “Shhh,” he murmurs, his breath ghosting across my lips. “Just bring yourself, Berry—you’re already more than enough. Wear a paper bag for all I care, I just want you, me, and snow falling around us.”
He doesn’t hesitate, he tilts my head down slightly, plants the softest kiss between my eyebrows, and takes a step back. With one last look at me, he winks before he turns around and strides right out of my line of sight.
And now he’s gone.
I don’t know how long I stood there staring in the direction he walked off to or what is going on around me until a hand is waving up and down in front of me.
“Uh, Holly…you good?” Emmilene asks as she moves into my line of sight.
My eyes blink a few times as the world, the music, the chatter, and everything that seemed to not exist when Ryatt was here comes rushing back into focus.
“Yeah, I’m good. Why?” I shrug, turning back towards the photography setup.
“Well, you’ve been staring down the walkway for at least ten minutes. Some of us worried that you’d been magically frozen since you didn’t blink or move.”
