“But tourists can still come if they want?” Tessa asks.
“Sure can. As long as the lake isn’t frozen over, you can get across on the ferry. Some shops close for the season, so it’s slower. But we’ve got traditions. Tree lighting on the first weekend in December. That’s a big one. The whole island comes out for it.”
Her head turns toward me immediately, eyes bright. “We should come for the Christmas tree lighting.”
“If I can fit it into my hockey schedule,” I tell her, squeezing her hand, “we’re here.”
She grins.
After the carriage ride, we thank Al and tip him generously before stepping down onto the street. Our fingers find each other again without effort as we walk hand in hand back toward the hotel. The late afternoon sun stretches long shadows across the sidewalk, and the air is still sweet with fudge and lake breeze.
The whole day settles warm in my chest. Everything about it has been perfect. Then again, every day with Tessa is.
After another incredible dinner at the Grand Hotel and a walk on the porch under the stars, we fall into bed exhausted and happy. Tessa curls into my side, her head on my chest, one leg thrown over mine.
“Thank you,” she murmurs sleepily. “For bringing me here. For all of this.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” I say, running my fingers through her hair. “I love doing life with you.”
“I know. But I want to thank you anyway.” She tilts her head up to look at me. “I never thought I’d have this. Any of this. Someone who loves me. Someone who wants to show me new things and make me happy. It still doesn’t feel real sometimes.”
My chest tightens. “It’s real, baby. I promise you, it’s real.”
She smiles, soft and sleepy. “I know. I’m just... really happy.”
“Me too.”
She presses a kiss to my chest, right over my heart, and settles back down. Within minutes, her breathing evens out, and she’s asleep.
I lie there for a while, listening to the sound of the water through the open balcony doors, feeling the weight of her against me, and I think about how much my life has changed in three months.
Three months ago, I played hockey and searched for casual hookups and not much else.
Now I’m on vacation with a woman I’m pretty sure I’ll marry someday, planning Christmas trips and a future I can actually see clearly for the first time in my life.
And I wouldn’t change a single thing.
The following morning, we have one more lazy breakfast on the porch, one more bike ride around the island, and one more trip to the fudge shops because Tessa insists we need to bring some back for Joyce, Bob, and Layla.
“And the team,” she adds. “We should get some for the guys too.”
“The guys don’t need fancy fudge,” I say.
“Everyone needs fancy fudge,” she counters.
So we end up with about ten pounds of fudge in various flavors, packed carefully into boxes that barely fit in our bike baskets.
On the ferry ride back to the mainland, Tessa leans against the railing one last time, looking back at the island as it grows smaller in the distance.
“I’m going to miss this place,” she says.
“We’ll come back,” I promise. “Christmas tree lighting, remember?”
She smiles and leans into me. “I’m holding you to that.”
As the ferry docks and we load our bags into the SUV for the drive home, I catch her looking at me with this expression I can’t quite read.
“What?” I ask.
