Before I can act on the impulse, Paige suddenly stretches, her arms reaching toward the ceiling, and she lets out a small groan. “I need a break,” she declares, her gaze drifting to the window where the last remnants of daylight are fading into a velvety blue twilight. There’s a look in her eyes that I’m starting to recognize—a mixture of restlessness and longing that seems to pull her toward far-off horizons.
“We should go to the Caroling Night at Town Square,” she says, turning to me with that infectious grin that makes my heart do a little flip in my chest.
My first instinct is to object. The thought of leaving the safety of my home, of being surrounded by crowds and expected to participate in something so... public... sends a wave of anxiety through me. But before I can voice my concerns, Paige is on her feet, pulling me up with her.
“Come on, it’ll be fun.” she insists as she starts gathering our winter gear. “You won’t have to talk at all if you don’t want to. You don’t even have to sing. We can just go and soak in the atmosphere for a while.”
As she chatters away, draping my scarf around my neck and pressing my gloves into my hands, I’m struck by a realization: This is who Paige is at her core—a free spirit who needs to see the sky, to breathe the open air. The thought of being cooped up for too long makes her antsy, like a bird in a cage. It’s so different from my own need for solitude and routine, and yet... there’s something captivating about it.
Before I know it, we’re stepping out into the night air.
As we walk toward the town square, our breath forming little clouds in front of us, I study Paige out of the corner of my eye.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” she says, her voice soft with awe. “I’ve seen Christmas celebrations all over the world, but there’s something special about the way small towns do it. It’s like the whole community comes together to create this... this bubble of magic.”
I nod. The old-fashioned lamp posts are wrapped in garlands, and the storefronts show off elaborate window displays—it all takes on a fairytale quality in the glow of the holiday lights.
The sound of voices raised in song reaches us, and Paige tugs my arm to walk faster. It starts as a faint harmony carried on the night breeze, growing stronger with each step until it envelops us in festive cheer.
The square itself is a scene straight out of a Christmas card. Families huddle together, songbooks clutched in gloved hands. Children with rosy cheeks crane their necks to see over the crowd, their eyes wide with excitement. At the center of it all stands the town Christmas tree, a towering evergreen laden with ornaments that catch and reflect the light, creating a dazzling display.
There are so many people, all pressed close together. My instinct is to retreat, to find a quiet corner where I can observe without being observed. Paige’s hand slips into mine, and she intertwines our fingers. Our eyes meet, and I silently ask if this is okay. I know she’s the one who grabbed my hand, but I want to know if she’s okay with it. If she’s okay being seen together—as in interested in one another—because the news will spread.
When I glance down at her, Paige is looking at me with a soft smile that makes my breath catch in my throat. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to.
I’ll take that as a yes. She’s good with this.
So am I.
As the crowd breaks into “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” Paige leans into me, her body a warm presence against my side. I find myself relaxing, the tension seeping out of my shoulders. The beauty of the moment washes over me—the harmony of voices raised in song, the gentle fall of snowflakes catching the light, the sense of community that seems to radiate from every face in the crowd.
For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel like I’m a part of something. It’s that same feeling I had in the parade planning meeting. It’s almost like … like I matter.
As the final notes of the carol fade into the night, I know that something has shifted inside me. The walls I’ve built around myself, the ones that have kept me safe but also kept me isolated, are beginning to crumble. And as I look down at Paige, her face glowing in the soft light of the Christmas tree, I realize that I’m not afraid of what might rush in to fill the space.
Nine
WILL
Iam down for a sing-along. I love this stuff. I wanted to be in the choir, but my voice is too distinctive. It’s not bad; it’s just bold. I’ve never been one to hold back a song. “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” was fantastic. It was all I could do not to throw my arms wide and sing a big finish, complete with jazz hands.
I watch Noah as we start the next song. He doesn’t see me because he’s so focused on Paige. I really like that woman for him. She gets him out of the house and participates in life.
He’s good for her, too. I can sense their emotions, everyone’s really, but I try to stay focused on the two of them. She feels more like herself when he’s around. He validates her and values her for who she is without trying to change her.
I looked her up last week after their snowshoeing date. Paige’s YouTube channel wasn’t her first attempt at being an influencer. She and an ex-boyfriend started a channel three months before she went solo. He was awful. He talked over her. He hogged camera time. And, when given the chance, he’d cut her out of the scene. I think he just kept her around to hold the camera.
Which explains why she talks so much—she has words built up inside.
The first notes of the next carol rise into the night air, and I notice something change in Noah’s posture. He straightens slightly and begins to sing, his voice soft but clear.
I move closer, intrigued by this small shift. Noah’s never struck me as the type to participate willingly in group activities like this. Yet here he is, singing along.
Paige notices, too. I see her glance at Noah, a soft smile playing on her lips. She leans in closer to him, their shoulders touching as they harmonize on the chorus. It’s a small gesture, but I can see the way it affects Noah.
As I observe this interaction, something begins to stir in my mind. I can’t quite put my finger on what I’m seeing. It’s like …. Gah! I can’t grab it.
The caroling continues, the group moving from one song to the next. With each carol, I notice more of these small, seemingly insignificant moments. The way Noah’s fingers brush against Paige’s as they turn a page in the song booklet. The shared laugh when they both stumble over a particularly tricky lyric. The soft smile that lingers on Noah’s face as he watches Paige enthusiastically lead a round of “Jingle Bells.”
