As much as I had sworn to let her go, I felt drawn to her. I had always felt a deep connection with her, and something inside gnawed at my throat, telling me not to give up yet.
Not without a fight.
It seemed odd timing, but my mind rewound back to that note I had found in the gazebo with her writing. This weekend had not gone how I had planned, but maybe it wasn’t too late?
An idea flashed through my mind, and I couldn’t wait another second. “I was thinking about running an errand really quick,” I said, acting indifferently. “Do you mind hanging out here until I get back?”
Her eyes dropped to my basket of uneaten food, and she pinned a perplexed expression on her face. “Um, sure.”
“I’ll be super quick.” I scooted out of the booth, adrenaline fueling my feet again. “Stay right here.” I waved toward the booth, spun on my heel, and sped out the door.
I raced down the street, hoping I wasn’t too late. This could go one of two ways. It could be insanely awkward, so much so that she might not want to talk to me again or . . . it could be the start of everything.
thirteen
Charlotte
“Wheredidyousayyou went?” I followed Nick back to the gazebo. I didn’t even have to check, but I knew from the sound of loud, measured pants behind me, the dog followed us.
“I asked around to see where Santa would be.” Nick’s tone was a tad suspicious when he tacked on, “I knew your hip was bothering you, and I didn’t want you to have to traipse all over town. I figured I could scope him out to save you the hassle.”
He was mostly right about my hip. I’d been busy all day, and that kept my mind off of it, but now that I was walking again, I could tell I was brewing up a bruise. Careful to lean most of my weight on my good leg, I hobbled back through Main Street. It was December in Vermont, which meant short days, and the sun had started to tuck itself away for the night. A cloud canopy darkened the sky even more, and it did everything to make the downtown Christmas lights pop. If I had to guess where Santa was tonight, I'd say he’d be downtown for sure. “Oh, did you find him?”
“I was told he liked to hang out by the Christmas tree for pictures.”
“That makes sense,” I said, matter-of-factly.
Nick was always the perfect gentleman, the guy who would walk behind me or beside me, but never a hair in front. If we walked on the sidewalk, he always took the side near the street. It was something I always loved about him, because none of the guys I ever hung around with understood old-fashioned chivalry. In a way, it reminded me of my dad. I found myself smiling as I thought about how my dad would fully approve of Nick, which would be a huge win because my dad was a hard sell when it came to the men I dated.
Wait, where’d that come from?
I startled, pinching my lips together, trying to hold back more crazy thoughts as it had been such a long day. With so much commotion, I was thinking the most random and impossible things.
As we neared the gazebo, Nick’s steps slowed even more. So much so, our snail pace became a bit irritating. I stretched my neck out, scanning for a sign of Santa.
Nothing.
I glanced back at Nick, ready to shrug, but Nick didn’t return my gaze. Instead, he remained focused on the Gazebo, specifically the ceiling where Christmas lights glittered. Wait, no, not Christmas lights— I took the last steps up to the gazebo steps, and stood in awe at what was before me.
Stars, like the kind you buy in bags at the store and stick to your bedroom ceiling, had been plastered all over the top of the gazebo. They spelled out Carpe Diem.
My confusion lifted when I noticed the smile Nick had for me. It clearly said he was the one responsible for the stars. This wasn’t the first time he’d done something just to make me smile, but this wasdifferent. I didn’t recognize it but I felt a tingling deep in my gut.
I turned in a circle, admiring the stars from different angles. “What’s this all about?” Even the dog seemed in awe as he walked to the center and laid down, staring up.
He stuffed his hands in his jean’s pocket, and looked at me with a bit of a sideways glance. “I’m taking a cue from your dad.”
“Seize the day?” I hiked a brow, feeling lost, maybe a little angst.
He took a small step toward me, and motioned to the pocket in his coat, which I was still wearing. “I found something earlier and I stuffed it in there.”
“Huh?” I was put off by the sudden change of conversation, because I still didn’t quite understand the sticky stars, but I stuffed my hand into his pocket and dug around until I found a small piece of paper and pulled it out.
All I want for Christmas is to find my husband. And if you can’t do that this year, can you at least send a sign that I shouldn’t give up. A shooting star or
“That’s my handwriting,” I thought out loud, but I didn’t remember writing it. At this point I wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t the dumbest thing I had done in the last twenty-four hours. Nick reached out, touched the note, letting his finger linger under the words shooting star. With his free hand, he motioned to the sticky stars above us. “I was trying to think of a way to tell you something, but . . . yeah. I guess, I don’t want to wait to make the memories.”
He took another step forward, now only an arm’s reach in front of me. “I was thinking about how a lot of times we think our best day is going to be the day we get married or the day we get a huge raise. After spending a good part of our day thinking I’d never remember our wedding, I thought the best day of my life will probably be some random Saturday, where you and I walk around town, doing the most basic things, like we do every year when we meet here in Mapleton. Once I thought that, I wasn’t sad about not having my wedding memories.” He paused, and stared at his feet, a slight tint in his cheek showed he was nervous.
