“Friends,” he says softly. “Gwen said something similar to me last Christmas after an unexpected heart to heart.”
“Let me guess, then she hugged you?” The thought makes me want to laugh. Considering how stiff Jasper was while hugging his own brother last week, I can imagine Gwen latching on and not releasing him until he softened.
I expect Jasper to get flustered and quickly change the subject or get us moving again before I suggest we hug each other. But I’ve underestimated him once again becauseI’mthe one who’s flustered when he says, “As a matter of fact, she did. Shouldwe?”
“Hug.” What was meant to be a question—to make sure I hadn’t misunderstood—comes out sounding like a grunt.
“Yes. We don’t have to, of course. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I suppose wearein a rather public place and we don’t know each other that well yet—”
I cut off his rambling by closing the small space between us and wrapping my arms around his shoulders. As expected, even though he was the one who suggested hugging, Jasper’s whole body goes tense. It takes him a moment to put his arms around me in return. But unlike the quick, stiff embrace I expected, Jasper gathers me close, his arms wrapping fully around my back, and his cheek settling on my shoulder. I’m a natural, almost compulsive hugger, and evenIcan’t remember the last time I was hugged like this. It doesn’t feel like a hug between people who just met. It feels like the type of hug someone who knows and cares about you gives you when your broken pieces need to be put back together.
I swallow hard as Jasper gives me a light pat on the back and releases me. The tension is completely gone from his face, although his cheeks now hold a hint of color. His eyes lock with mine before sweeping over our surroundings, his lips curved the slightest bit. He’s completely oblivious to the fact he just stirred up all kinds of feelings in me.
With his gaze trained over my shoulder, he leans toward me. I expect a confession of some sort—maybe he’s a big ball of thoughts and emotions right now too—but the whispered words out of his mouth are, “There’s a woman behind you with a sweater-clad dog. Shall I take the picture for proof or do you want to?”
It takes a minute for my brain to catch up with his meaning. The scavenger hunt. Right. A laugh bubbles out of me as I turn and see a tiny ball of black fluff encased in a hot pink sweater. Pushing the unexpected hurricane of emotions aside for closer inspection at a later time, I tell Jasper he can be in charge of scavenger hunt photography.
Over the next hour, I’m delighted to discover Jasper is a fellow foodie. We stroll down Front Street, checking items off on the scavenger hunt list and sampling food from most of the stalls we pass.
“I haven’t missed much about Toronto since moving back to Bellevue, but I do miss all the street food options,” I say as we walk away from a Vietnamese food stall. “There are hardly any food trucks around here, although Ivy mentioned something about a bunch of them down by the waterfront in the summer.”
I pause to take a bite of my mini veggie banh mi, watching as Jasper bites into his sandwich. I try to picture him lining up at a food truck during his lunch break, waiting for falafel or a gyro or a taco in his perfectly pressed suit. “You work downtown, right? Lots of street food options there. Do you take advantage often?”
He shakes his head, popping the last bite into his mouth and then carefully wiping his hands on a napkin. “Until today, any desire I had for street food ended after an experience with a dodgy kebab that left me wishing I were dead.”
I try to hold in my laughter, I really do, but between his grave tone and the way he punctuates the words with a full-body shudder, I can’t stop the giggles that erupt. I cover my mouth with my napkin, but it’s no use.
Jasper side-eyes me, his lips twitching. “I’m glad my pain and suffering could provide an amusing anecdote for you,” he says dryly, which only makes me laugh harder. “Besides, I’m sure it’ll come as no surprise to you that for the most part, I find street food messier than I’d like. I have no problem with messy food in general, although I prefer to eat it without spectators.”
“Makes sense,” I say around another giggle. I pause to throw my napkin in a nearby trashcan. Jasper keeps walking for a moment until he realizes I’m not beside him. When he peers back at me, I ask, “Are you like this with your siblings?”
He tilts his head to the side, giving me a wary look. “Like what?”
“Relaxed. Funny.”
His eyebrows wing up. “Funny?Funny?I don’t think that’s an adjective my siblings would ever use to describe me.” He starts walking again and I fall into step beside him. After a few moments of silence, he says, “You know, I’m beginning to realize I’m still…careful, I guess, around my siblings. I don’t intend to be withdrawn or hold myself back around them, but perhaps part of me is worried about saying the wrong thing.”
He stops in front of a coffee cart and asks if I’d like a drink. He orders and pays, and then we carry on with our wandering, steaming paper cups in hand.
“I wasn’t exactly a dictator as Evan and Hadley’s guardian, although now I see I was likely too strict with them,” he continues. “Caring for them was a huge responsibility, and I wanted—needed—to keep them safe. I think I’ve assumed they still see me that way and I’ve simply…continued to play that role?”
“You don’t need to play that role anymore, though. You can be the fun brother now, or better yet, their friend. You were thrust into the role of parent all those years ago, but you’re not their parent. They’re adults with their own lives, and they don’t need to be protected anymore. They’re not going to suddenly abandon you because you say the wrong thing or happen to piss them off, Jasper. You don’t always have to take everything so seriously.” I say that last part as gently as possible so he doesn’t think I’m being harsh or judgmental. Still, his brows draw together and his mouth dips down in the corners, making me wonder if I overstepped.
Up ahead, a booth boasting an array of colorful hats, boas, scarves and other items catches my eye. As we approach, my eyes home in on a black top hat adorned with fall foliage and tiny birds. After ditching my now-empty paper cup in a recycling bin, I pull Jasper to a stop with one hand while plucking the hat from the table with the other. Without a word, I plunk the hat on Jasper’s head, watching in amusement as his eyes grow wide.
The guy running the booth leans across the table, grinning at Jasper as he says, “Suits you, mate.” He’s got a sexy Captain Hook fromOnce Upon a Timevibe with his British accent, thick eyeliner, and sweeping leather duster. He’s wearing a similar top hat to the one on Jasper’s head, except his has small woodland creatures instead of birds mixed with the foliage. He ducks out of sight and returns a second later holding a large mirror, which he aims at Jasper.
I expect Jasper to take the hat off when he sees his reflection. I’m shocked he didn’t knock it off his head the minute it landed there. Instead, he smiles at the sight of himself and tilts the hat so it’s sitting at a jaunty angle. He nods to Captain Hook, who shoots him a wink and spins away to greet the kids who just approached the booth.
Jasper scans the table and makes a small sound of triumph before plucking a crown of bright red and orange leaves from the pile. “Elizabeth might be too young to appreciate a flower crown—or a leaf crown, as it were—but I have a feeling you’ll enjoy this. It even matches your lovely auburn hair.” He places it on my head and, with gentle fingers, gets it settled in my hair. The soft smile he’s wearing when he steps back to admire it makes my cheeks tingle with heat.
“We’ll take these two, please.” Jasper is still looking at me as he says this, so his words don’t make sense until a flash of color catches my eye and I realize the stall’s owner has returned. Jasper fishes out his wallet and hands the guy some money. I’m too stunned to protest over him paying for mine.
Before we step away from the stall, I take out my phone and switch it to selfie mode so I can see my leaf crown. Jasper was right about it matching my hair; the way the sun hits it makes both my hair and the crown glow in shades of gold, brown, red, and orange. I wonder how Gwen would feel about me wearing this to her wedding because I never want to take it off.
As we begin walking again, I give in to the impulse I had earlier and link my arm through Jasper’s. He gives me a brief raised-eyebrow glance before his gaze returns to the street ahead. A few people grin or chuckle when they see our headwear. I expect Jasper to be embarrassed and maybe even take the hat off, but he leaves it on, nodding to people as we pass. When he tips the hat in greeting to a little girl who has stopped to stare, I laugh under my breath, drawing his attention.
“You’re having fun.” My words are a statement rather than a question.
“You were right about me taking things too seriously,” he says. “So while it’s a bit of a foreign concept for me, yes, I am having fun. Thank you, Willow. I’m glad we were selected as teammates. It’s nice to have a friend—someone who’s not related to me or about to be, like Gwen. I know you and I were paired together, so it wasn’t your choice per se…”
“Just to make things clear, Jasper, being friends with youisa choice. One that goes beyond Gwen’s random pair generator, and one I’m making willingly, knowingly, and happily.” I give his arm a squeeze and he pats my hand. His touch lingers for a moment before he drops his hand back to his side.
Friends. Jasper and I are friends. I repeat this to myself as we carry on, arm in arm, down Front Street.
