“I’m fine,” I tried to breeze over his comment. “Nothing walking won’t stretch out—” My voice dropped off as Nick hooked his arm into mine. Tightly. Goosebumps trickled down my arm, in a way that had never happened before when I looked up at him. His dark eyes were wide with obvious concern, and a single worried line pinned on top of his nose.
“You’re not going to take no for an answer,” my voice came out in a whisper because something about being this close to Nick, under the downtown Christmas lights, stole the breath from my chest.
“It’s not about taking no for an answer. I want to make sure you’re okay, because I care about you.” His cadence was slower than usual, hanging in the air. I knew he cared about me. We’d been friends for years, texting almost daily and meeting yearly when our schedules allowed. It wasn’t that he said he cared that made my toes curl under. It was everything about the careful manner with which he spoke those words that made me think there was perhaps, a double meaning.
Or maybe I was hoping? Which is completely silly. He undoubtedly was making sure I hadn’t busted my leg and nothing more.
Because why would it be more?
This stupid marriage pact has gotten my brain so garbled up.
“You’re shivering.” His brows bent down, and he immediately shook off his coat, saying, “Your jacket is soaked, and you should remove it. You can wear mine until your coat dries.”
I started to decline, but stopped because I wanted his coat. It looked heavier than mine, and it was at least dry. Plus, having someone want to take care of me felt good. Smiling sweetly, I slipped off my own jacket and accepted his. A layer of warmth covered me, and I immediately felt right at home in it, even with the scent of his musky aftershave permeating the air. Actually, the musky man smell was rather amazing. It put an extra pep in my step, as I flung my old coat over my arm and carried on.
We arrived at the barber shop, and Nick pulled the heavy door open for me, and we both entered the building.
It was a typical barber shop setting with a couple of barber chairs, a table of magazines by the waiting chairs, and a shelf of retail products. There was a cute Charlie Brown Christmas tree perched in the center of the large window that made me smile, especially when paired with the Bing Crosby Christmas carols piping out.
A lanky man with his silver hair slicked back and a mistletoe bowtie stood watching the only TV on the wall. I didn’t even have to ask if he recognized us, because his greeting said it all. “Mr. and Mrs. Cane. It’s nice to see you again.”
Everything about that sentence was wrong!
First off, Cane wasn’t either of our surnames, so where in the mistletoe mania did he come up with that? I instantly got dizzy. It was getting to be too much to learn. However, as much as that detail made my brain swell, the thing my brain latched onto was the Mr. and Mrs. because, well, why wouldn’t that be a problem? I mean, Nick and I were friends. We weren’t supposed to be connected by those cute, little titles of companionship because, well, that would be wrong! Right?
My gaze slammed to Nick, hoping he could talk our way out of this one, but one look at him told me he was as flustered as I was. Despite the chill in the air walking down here, he now had a shimmering drop of perspiration bead on his brow. “Nick.” I elbowed him, still hoping he could be the saner one in this situation. “Why are you sweating?”
“I’m not sw-sweating,” he stammered. “It’s a slight issue of my accismus not working.” I had no idea what that meant, but I didn’t dare ask because he looked like he was suffering. His chest rose slowly, but his deep breaths didn’t calm him. His voice held a squeak when he added, “I knew I was a mister, but the whole other word sort of threw me off.” He took a wobbly step toward the barber chair. “Phew, normally I can fake being calm, but that mode is so broken right now.” His breath blew out loudly, and he gripped the armrest with one hand while he helped himself to the seat before the barber had a chance to invite him. “I’m going to sit here if you don’t mind.” He finally stared the barber straight in the face. “I need to ah, catch my bride—I mean breath.”
As much as I was similarly shocked by the prefixes, seeing Nick react this way made me giggle. Having outside confirmation of those titles was enough to shock us both. I stared at the floor, the checkered linoleum seemed to wave, as if it was threatening to open and suck me into the deep abyss. Clearly, I was dizzy too, and I grabbed the wall to steady myself. I finally looked back at the barber, “So, you do know us?”
His thin lips slid into an easy grin, and he chuckled. “How can I forget you two?”
“It’s interesting that you say that,” Nick cut in, his voice high-pitched and rushed, “because well, we don’t remember you.” With wide eyes and brows pulled high, Nick peered at the barber, and began to plead with his hands folded in prayer at his chest. “I don’t remember anything! I’m sorry to lose my mind in front of you like this but when did I change my last name to Cane?”
Thankfully, the barber must have had a sense of humor because he didn’t seem put off by Nick’s breakdown. Instead, he grabbed a washcloth from the cupboard, and rinsed it under the tap. He folded it into a perfect rectangle and walked over to Nick, placing it on his forehead. “Relax,” he said, in a soothing voice. “We have lots of grooms freak out like this. I’m used to it.” As he turned his back, striding away from Nick, he muttered under his breath, “Of course, it’s usually before the wedding, but nothing surprises me anymore.”
“Groom?” Nick had clearly found his voice now, getting over the squeaky pre-pubescent boy thing he had going on earlier. Now he was letting out a full-blown wail. “Why can’t I remember this!”
“I may be wrong about this,” the barber started, “but I think you had a bit of a daze going when I saw you both.”
“Knock me over with a feather boa.” Nick’s fake surprised voice rang out. “Of course, we did! I can’t understand why, because all we had was one sip of a drink from the Sterling Lodge.”
The barber's chin inclined, and he calmly rubbed his neck. “Poinsettia champagne?”
Nick’s face froze. “How’d you know?”
The barber tossed up one shoulder in a shrug, but his expression said he wasn’t confused at all. He had a tight, knowing smile sealing his lips. If I didn’t know better, I would have guessed he was holding back a secret. “It happens every year around this time.” The barber glanced over at me, a twinkle sparkled in his eye. “I’ve heard the rumors my whole life. For years, I thought it was a legend, but once I opened this shop, I started to see some of the couples. Some people blame the town. Some people blame the season. Some people say it’s the champagne.” His smile grew wistfully. “Call me a romantic, but I think it’s fate.”
“What’s fate?” Nick and I blurted simultaneously, both of our gazes firmly locked on the barber.
His smile stayed strong, but his gaze flicked from Nick back to me. “I call it the Holidaze. You come here to Mapleton for a vacation, perhaps? Or maybe for work. Some people have lived their entire lives here, but for some unsuspecting singletons, they live through a series of events—some of them a little crazy—and end up together.”
“So, you know about this?” Nick sat up straighter in the chair, perching on the edge. “How do we find out what happened?”
The barber moved to his vanity, picked up a small dusting brush, and swiped it around the edges of his counter. Keeping his head down, he spoke matter-of-factly. “I can tell you what I know.”
Nick grabbed both armrests, and set his jaw. “What happened?”
