Her breath caught a little. “You barely know me.”
“I know enough,” he said quietly. “And I know what it looks like when someone’s afraid to believe in good things.”
She looked away, heart twisting in her chest. “It’s easier to believe they won’t last.”
“What if they do?”
Their eyes met, the sleigh gliding slowly through the trees as the snow swirled around them. She felt the answer rising in her, somewhere between her ribs and the place she’d tried to keep walled off.
Eliza smiled, eyes misty. “Remind me to thank the house later.”
Lachlan leaned in, brushing her hair from her cheek. “Remind me to kiss you before this trip ends.”
Her breath hitched. “What if you don’t need reminding?”
He said nothing. Just smiled.
The sleigh kept gliding through the forest back to their cottage, and for the first time in a long time, Eliza didn’t feel like running.
Lachlan and Eliza stumbled inside the gingerbread house, breathless from laughter. The door locked shut behind them with a gentle thud as they shed their boots and scarfs by the door.
Puffcake carried the extra box of scones inside, clasping the red ribbon between his claws. Lachlan flipped on the lightswitch, and a soft amber glow spread throughout the room and danced over the icing-piped rafters.
The house seemed to sigh in relief now that the two of them were back inside. Even the fire in the hearth flickered more vibrantly, the Christmas tree glowed brighter.
“So … how about a nightcap?” Lachlan asked.
“Obviously,” Eliza said, already moving to the kitchen. “Only if there’s biscuits and peppermint bark, too.”
Puffcake perked up at Eliza’s suggestion. “I’ll brew the chai, properly spiced. I know the perfect recipe,” Lachlan smiled. “We make a good team, Snow.”
Lachlan stepped behind Eliza to get into the fridge, his arm brushing up against hers. They moved around the kitchen together, their steps unhurried and rhythmic. His touch seemed to linger when she stepped in front of him, and he placed his hand on the small of her back to go around her.
Snow began to fall beyond the house, and Eliza smiled to herself, thankful for the magical storm that happened the day she arrived here. “Today was kind of perfect,” she reflected, gently placing the bowl of melted white chocolate down on the counter.
“Yeah?” Lachlan got the bourbon from the liquor cabinet and tilted a dash into each of the steaming mugs.
“Yeah,” she breathed. She turned to face him. “And you’re to blame for, like, ninety percent of that, Lachlan. Thank you.”
He placed his hands on each side of the counter and looked at her. Really looked at her. “I’m really proud of you, you know. For crushing the contest. After the year you’ve had, you could’ve just tucked your tail instead of putting yourself out there and risk facing rejection again. But you didn’t. That was a really brave thing to do.”
She snorted. “You talk about my life as if I’m a cancer survivor.”
He set down his mug, ignoring her deflection.
“No,” he said, “I talk like someone who knows what it’s like to be gutted by the person who was supposed to love you and still finds the courage to try again.”
Eliza opened her mouth, but couldn’t seem to find the right words.
“You didn’t have to come here. You didn’t have to bake, or sign up for that contest, or let yourself feel anything again. But you did. You got back up and put your heart into something again. That takes guts, Snow.”
She glanced away, unsure how to hold his gaze. “To be fair, Gretel entered me into the contest. I just made the pastries, I’m not exactly a war hero.”
“You’remyhero,” he placed his hand to his chest. “You slayed at least three metaphorical dragons this week and tamed an actual one with gingerbread wings.”
She laughed despite her tightening throat. “I wouldn’t say Itamedhim.”
Lachlan stepped closer to the island, leaning casually against it. “Still. Takes guts to win over a sentient sugar biscuit.”
