Thankfully, she bought us hot, spiced cider at the first stall that sold them, pressing the paper cup into my hand. As she blew across the liquid in her own, sending steam scattering away from her full lips, she finally relaxed a little bit.
“Did you, uh…” She paused for a beat. “Did you know that our mothers are enemies?”
“Enemies?” I shook my head, folding my fingers around the cup and wishing it contained something stronger. “That seems dramatic. All I know is that CC doesn’t invite Regina to her events, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re enemies. They might just not be friends.”
She shot me a look. “Those invitations are like royal decrees. I’m sure you know that. They’re a declaration regarding a person’s social status. Not being invited means something. Besides, I asked my mom about it earlier and she left me alone to choose my own shoes to get out of having to talk to me about it.”
I chuckled as we fell into step side by side, weaving past stalls draped with multi-colored lights and breathing gingerbread-scented air. “Okay, well, if leaving you to choose your own shoes is as big a deal as CC hanging up on me when I asked her about it, you might be onto something. What do you think happened between them? A fight over the last pair of Chanel pumps at the summer sales?”
“Oh, please.” She giggled. “Neither of them shop the sales. Maybe your mother sabotaged mine at cotillion?”
“Or your mother stole the spotlight at some gala in the eighties and my mother never got over it,” I countered. “No, wait. I got it. Your mom is secretly jealous of CC’s margarita recipe. I wouldn’t blame her. That woman makes a mean shaken margarita. It’s legendary.”
Aurelia laughed, glancing up at me with those big blue eyes that had been haunting my dirty dreams, but there was a light in them tonight I hadn’t seen there before. Maybe it was just all the Christmas in the air, but she seemed happier. Freer.
“Regina is a VIP member at the Garden Club,” she offered. “It could be that.”
I shook my head. “CC is a Country Club gal through and through. She dominates the golf course there and I might evenhave heard her say that Chef Austin’s chicken salad deserves a Michelin star.”
We strolled past stalls selling roasted chestnuts and woolen scarves, trading theories, sipping cider, and laughing harder than we probably should have. I rolled my eyes at her latest theory, but as I did, I suddenly realized that right now, I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere but right here, in this cliched market, with her.
I took another sip of cider, watching her as she stopped to admire a handmade snow globe. “So, what’s next for you?”
“Next?” She glanced at me, setting the snow globe back down before she moved on. “You mean for work?”
“Yep. You said you had more deals in mind?”
She let out a throaty laugh that did all sorts of unholy things to me. “Well, that depends on whether W&S will keep letting me invest in your acquisitions. You guys aren’t exactly known for sharing your toys.”
I shrugged, trying to appear casual despite the fact that the idea of any of my brothers saying no to her made my muscles tighten. “Maybe we shouldn’t care about W&S. Maybe we should do our own thing.”
Her head tilted, her eyes narrowing like she was trying to decide if I was joking. She slowed down. “Ourown thing. You mean, together?”
“Together,” I said, letting the word hang between us until she glanced away.
Her cheeks flushed pink and she shook her head. “You would do that?” she asked as we wandered from the market into Central Park. The crowd had thinned and snow started falling again, dusting the pathways and clinging to her coat. “I didn’t even realize you were thinking about leaving the family business.”
“I’m not,” I said. “I would, though.”
String lights had been looped through the trees, casting a soft, golden glow across the park. Aurelia glanced up at me, sticking so close to my side that I felt her against me. “Why would you do that? Why would you leave? Are you unhappy there?”
“No, I love W&S,” I said honestly, elaborating when a confused frown tugged her eyebrows closer together. “I’ve only just started working under Sterling and I know I could learn a ton from him, but that doesn’t mean I have to commit to it for the rest of my life. If a better opportunity comes along, I’ll take it.”
She didn’t say anything but the way her brow puckered when her eyes widened told me she was impressed. “That’s a bold statement, Westwood. Don’t rich boys like you usually stick with the family business?”
“Don’t rich girls like you usually not work at all?”
She laughed. “Touche.”
Silence fell between us for a moment. Our gazes connected and something unspoken passed between us. Something heavy and strange that made me not want to hold back anymore.
“Do you remember the other night?” I asked, finally giving voice to the question that had been burning the tip of my tongue for a week. “During the ice storm?”
“Vaguely.” She ducked her head before shaking it, very purposely averting her gaze. “We drank way too much wine.”
“Yeah, but you suggested that we should get married,” I said, just putting it out there now that I’d brought up that night. “Do you remember that part?”
She blushed so hard that her face lit up brighter than the trees around us. “I was definitely tipsy when I said that. Just ignore it.”
