Somewhere in the distance, we heard a jolly voice ring out, “Merry Christmas Nick and Charlotte. Ho, ho, ho.”
Goosebumps dotted my spine. “You don’t think that was arealSanta?”
“Nah.” Nick brushed my comment away, while stealing another look at the night sky. “He was clearly pretending.”
“Totally pretending,” I rushed to add because I didn’t want Nick to think I was weird, and actually believed in things like Santa.
“Charlotte,” Nick’s voice was soft, beckoning me to look up at him. I arched my chin. My eyes found his, but immediately they dropped to his lips. I parted my lips and met his in our first kiss. His lips were soft, his breath—candy cane peppermint, but his arms that wrapped me into his Nick nook, wereeverything. I pulled back from our kiss, we joined hands and sauntered back toward the lodge, laughing about the day.
The dog perfectly in tow.
Soft Christmas music pipped out over the main square and as we passed the general store, the lady who had helped us stood near the window, pulling the curtains shut. She noticed us walk past. Her lips turned up slightly at the corners and she winked like she was holding a secret only she was privy to.
Epilogue
The next fall . . .
“Matchingturtlenecks,”Nick’sinventoryvoice rolled out, like he was taking command of an important mission.
I grinned at how adorable he looked in the mustard-colored sweater under his coat. It wasn’t my color, but I’d been waiting so long to make these memories, I’d wear a gorilla suit at this point if it made for a cute Christmas card. I giggled, and called back, “Check.”
“Pumpkin spice lattes with a skosh of whipped cream,” he continued in his roll call voice. He had warned me this morning that he had a big date planned for us, but never in my wildest dreams did I think he’d combine every perfect date I had ever hinted I wanted and throw them into one. Well, to be fair, not all of them, because that would be impossible but enough to make it memorable. We were all about making the most memories.
“Check.” I called back to him as I held up my cup, lightly tapping it with his in a toast. He held out his other arm, hooking my arm into his as we headed out of the Coffee Loft.
“Adorable dog,” he added to his list.
Neither of us had to check behind as we knew he’d be in tow. After having spent the weekend with us over Christmas break, we didn’t have the heart to turn him out into the streets. Since neither of us were equipped to house a dog in our regular lives, we left him with Nick’s parents, but we couldn’t be happier to be reunited this weekend. He seemed to respond like he did the first time we met, never leaving our sides.
“Buddy is here. Check,” I called back.
“Pumpkin patch,” he called out again. This time, a chuckle slipped through his lips.
“On our way.” I smirked at him, my heart swelling with all the perfect picture moments we would create today. I wanted to fulfill my promise to my dad not to wait for the perfect day, but to take the memories as they came, and accept the imperfections.
Nick and I had spent the last eight months doing the long-distance relationship thing, with him commuting from New York, and me from Texas. Nothing about it was perfect, but I accepted that because it was still amazing. We were both sick of the distance, though. I had visited him a few times in New York, and it didn’t feel right to me. He came to see me in Texas, and that didn’t feel right either. As far as jobs for us, the doors weren’t opening as we needed them to.
This weekend we decided to come back to Mapleton, hoping to gain some clarity. We strolled, with arms linked, down Main Street until we arrived at the enormous colonial house on the corner that said Mapleton B&B. It had a For Sale sign in front of it, and I couldn’t help but take in a whimsical sigh. “I didn’t even know Mapleton had a Bed and Breakfast. How cute is that? We should totally buy this B&B and move back to Mapleton to run it,” I half-joked.
I glanced at Nick, and he had a super serious expression I’d never seen before. I halted, and an immediate rush fled through my veins. Tilting my head slowly toward him, feeling like I was about to traipse all over something sacred, I whispered, “What’s wrong?”
“I was going to wait until the perfect time to give you this.” He slipped off his jacket and offered it to me. The look on his face remained stoic.
I quirked a brow, not demeaning his kind gesture, but it wasn’t cold enough that I needed a jacket on top of my wool sweater. “Thanks for the offer but I’m not cold.”
“It’s not about the jacket.” Nick continued to hold out his coat. “But it’s more about living in the moment.”
“What?” I quipped, while wondering if me wearing his jacket had a sentimental thing he was holding onto? As I eyed it, a little suspiciously now, I recognized it as the jacket I had worn last year when I had gotten mine wet. “Is . . . there a reason I need to wear that jacket if I’mnotcold?”
“Maybe I have a confession.” His lips pursed out thoughtfully before he added, “And I think it’s easier to show it to you.”
“Okay . . .” I took the jacket, resisting the urge to sling it over my shoulder just to tease him. Instead, I dutifully put it on, and peered back at him. “Now what?”
Chuckling, his gaze shifted above my head while he tugged at the collar of his turtleneck, but he didn’t tell me what was up with the jacket, so I repeated, “What do I do now that I’m wearing it? Do you want to take a ridiculous selfie with me? Or is this when I finally bust out my duck lips?” I smashed my lips together and pretended to pose by hoisting my hands on my hips. Then in a second pose, just to be sassy, I pushed my hip out and brought my hands higher. When I did, my hand brushed against a lump in the pocket. I barely noticed it and would have shrugged it off, but Nick sucked in such an explosive breath I thought he was about to sneeze. “What was that?” I asked, my gaze cementing on him.
Sometimes in life you have a rare moment where it feels like you can speak an entire conversation by studying the nuances in someone’s eyes. This was one of those moments. Each tiny flicker of Nick’s iris was so slow and deliberate, like the rhythm of a song I memorized. As I stared deeper into his gaze, I felt a slow ripple of emotion gather in my gut, and then gently flow up, building strength in a wave that made its way to my heart.
“So, my confession is . . .” Nick’s words were measured, soft, and filled with flirtation. “I wore that jacket last time we were here.”
