“Yes.”
Liquid sprays from his mouth. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. And I think that would make me Clara.”
“Forgive me because I’m not too familiar with the ballet, but I don’t remember The Nutcracker and Clara fucking in it.”
Massaging my temples, I breathe in deep and clench my jaw.
“You haven’t fucked me since we’ve been here.”
“No, but we did the night before we got here.”
“Well, technically she does fall asleep with it and the rest is the same.”
“How?”
“For starters, we went to sleep and we woke up in Sugarplum Park, and in the ballet, Clara falls asleep and then they go to the Kingdom of Sweets,” I explain.
Standing up, I move to the stereo and unplug my phone. I begin to tap on the screen and join him back on the floor.
“The shops on Main Street coordinate with the dances in act two, and so does the schedule. See.”
I scoot closer to him, pointing to each dance on my phone screen as I list them. “Chocolate, Coffee, Tea, Candy Canes, Marzipan, Gingerbread, Flowers.”
“I don’t know. It seems a little...” He hesitates. “Far-fetched. Don’t you think?”
“No. I think it’s the only thing that makes sense. What else could ‘spirit of the town’ mean? The town is called Sugarplum Park, and all the stores on Main Street coordinate with theballet. You said yourself that there is literally a mother named Ginger who lives here.”
“Maybe.”
For fuck’s sake, how is he not getting this?
“Look, I know this ballet really well, and Stella said we needed to lean into the spirit of the town and that she was surprised I hadn’t figured it out. Of the two of us, I’m the only one who could put this together because you’ve never seen the ballet.”
His hazel eyes blink at me, and his mouth parts slightly.
“If it’sThe Nutcracker, which I’m pretty certain it is, then we have to finish it to get back to New York.”
“What does that mean?”
“Stella said that we would be judging the competition on Christmas Eve, so I think each time we judge one of the entries we complete a dance.”
“So what? We just start by eating Chip’s peppermint bark and then tick off each dance until we’re done.”
Finally.
“Exactly.”
“Okay, but that would mean we wouldn’t get back until Christmas.”
“I know,” I say, sipping my drink.
“And you’re okay with that?”
“At this point, I just want to get home, so if that means you and I have to spend a little extra time together here, then I think there are worse things.”
“Are you saying you like spending time with me here?” His eyebrow raises.
