Nova turns, staring me down for a long moment. It lasts just long enough for me to know what I said was a mistake. Maybe everything about me bringing her out here, to this little picnic, to show off somehow for her, was all wrong. Hell, maybe how I think about a lot of things is wrong.
“I do not need to be fixed. Or made better. I am just fine the way I am. I happen to like who I am. How I live. What I do and do not celebrate.”
“Oh, honey, I don't doubt that. There is nothing about you that is wrong or broken. Even if your eyes don't sparkle.”
Nova's eyes lighten just a little. Sparkle for just a moment. “Who says they ever sparkled before, Peter Pan?”
Turning on her heel, she strides away, leaving me to watch her. I follow, a smile overtaking my face. I got this right after all, I think. Not taking her to some fancy French joint or evenmy sister's diner to sweeten her up. Coming here, to find some quiet with each other, to find the one thing that is behind the connection I have felt from the very start.
“Nova,” I call after her as she saunters down the walk towards her shop. It is just starting to snow, and it could not be more perfect. “I am going to make your eyes sparkle again, or sparkle for the first time. We will find something to celebrate together, honey. Maybe even Christmas.”
Chapter Five
Nova
Flowers mean more to me than pretty petals or sweet scents.
White roses can mean a peace offering, a token of forgiveness. Tulips can speak of romance or new beginnings. There is a lot more to a beautiful bouquet than weaving together the right flowers and foliage. In their beauty, flowers can tell stories and whisper secrets—if you try to listen.
When a huge spread of ruby red amaryllis shows up on my front door, I am trying to listen to what they could mean. I could be offended that Niko went to another florist, but how could I be? They’re beautiful and as I put them in a crystal vase on the old marble island in my kitchen, they light up the entire room.
“Pride, strength,” I whisper to no one as I touch the soft, ruby red petals.
On a card scribbled in boxy writing, he has left note. “Hopefully these make your eyes sparkle a little. What about that brunch?”
Smiling as I trace the words with my fingertip, I sigh. I was too harsh on him after that sweet forest lunch date. It has been a few days and despite my stalking off as if I were a sulking teenager, I cannot get him out of my head. All I can think about is the sweet words he said to me in that romantic spot in the woods, where it felt like just the two of us existed.
“They’re so damn pretty, but so sad. I want them to sparkle,” his voice echoes in my head as it has since he said those words.
Orion used to say I was a real-life Tinkerbell. Happy thoughts filled my head while I sprinkled a little fairy dust wherever I went. It was why that night he and those cute lostboys came to my shop, I was so enchanted by him. Because I have been looking for happier thoughts for a long time.
Losing my parents was hard on both of us, of course. I took the brunt of things because I had to take care of us. I had to keep us in the house we grew up in and get him through school. I sprinkled all the fairy dust I could on what was left after we lost them. In the end, it wasn't enough to keep us both happy, it wasn't enough to earn a sense of loyalty from my brother.
I have thought time and again about his relationship with Oaklin. If I forget she is my best friend—and has been since we were in the second grade—and I forget he is my little brother, they make perfect sense. I think I even considered setting them up once or twice, to keep the two most important people I had left close to me. It was their lies, their sneaking behind my back, that hurt me. It was so simple for them to abandon me.
What do I have to celebrate on my own?
Niko seems to think he can give me something to celebrate. I do not need to be fixed or taken apart to be put back together how he sees fit. There is nothing wrong with me hating the holidays. Nothing wrong with me refusing to celebrate the emptiness of my life.
“Didn't feel that empty in that clearing,” as if from somewhere deep inside me, a soft voice says this. I am challenging my own stubborn thoughts. I smile and fuss with the flowers for a little while longer, admiring their red blooms and light perfume.
Outside it is snowing again, so I tug on my wool jacket after I pull on a stocking cap and gloves. I do love the snow, even if I hate its ties to the festive season. I consider each snowfall a brand-new start—and don't we all need one of those from time to time?
Trudging through the wet layers of snow, I stop in my tracks when I hear it. Not just the usual carolers. No, it's louderthan that. Bigger and bolder than a handful of good wishers wandering the streets. I see bright lights up ahead, twinkling and dancing, shouts of crowds and peals of laughter. I get a little lightheaded as I realize what it is. The one thing I cannot avoid no matter how I try.
True Ridge's winter festival is in full swing.
“Well, hell,” I mutter, yanking my hat down lower. “Not what I was hoping to walk up on today,” I sigh the words as I weave through crowds.
Each year it gets bigger and brighter. I remember when it was just some hot chocolate, sleigh rides, and a jolly Santa Clause waiting to hear what each child was wishing for. Now it's carriage rides and hot cider, fresh donuts and small trinkets for sale. It has become less about holidays and more about the bottom line, so I am justified in hating it a little more each year.
“Never thought I would find you here,” a familiar, husky voice calls.
Stopping my attempt to escape the madness, I turn. Oh, no. Why is he so damn handsome? In a flannel top, leather jacket, and boots, Niko could be the hot guy on a man-of-the-month calendar. He could be Mr. December, with that beard, those light eyes, and that dimpled smile.
“Well, you have not found me here,” I correct him, smiling despite my feigned annoyance. “I am trying to escape, can't you tell?”
Grinning at me, he cocks his head at me, as if checking to see if I mean what I say. Holding his hand out to me, he waits. I can't help myself, I move to slip my hand into his. His palm is huge, wrapping around mine, and so warm I feel it against my skin even through my glove. He draws my hand to his mouth, pushing my glove up. I bite back a gasp as he presses a soft kiss to the inside of my wrist.
