“Well.”Cole stuffs his hands in his pockets again, then immediately pullsthem out and lifts his arms. “Should we hug goodbye? We’ve kindadone things out of order, haven’t we? Kissing beforehugging.”
I throw my armsaround his shoulders, closing my eyes tightly as his arms encircleme and hold me close. He turns his face into my hair, breathing indeeply before pressing a kiss just above my ear. “Have a greatbirthday next week, Sylvie. I hope all your birthday wishes cometrue this year.”
“Thankyou.” My voice wavers, and I clear my throat. “I hope you have agood Christmas despite…everything.”
He laughs underhis breath, releasing me slowly and taking a step back. “Aftertonight, I’m a bit more willing to embrace the magic of the season,so I think it’ll be okay.”
“Good.Well…drive safe.”
I wait for him tosay something else, but he simply nods again, looking resigned.“Bye, Sylvie. Merry Christmas.”
“MerryChristmas, Cole.”
He grips my arm ashe steps around me, giving it a quick squeeze. I stay where I amfor several beats, listening to the sound of his footsteps fading.A huge part of me wants to turn around and run to him, suggest wefind a way to see where this might go. But I don’t need any morecomplications in my life right now, and I don’t think he doeseither.
I resist thetemptation to glance over my shoulder for one last look at him.Instead, I hurry the rest of the way to the gallery and step insidethe bright, warm space.
PART II ~ DECEMBER2021
CHAPTER THREE
Niagara Falls iseverything I hoped it would be.
When I told myfriend Janie I was planning a solo birthday trip to the Falls inDecember, she thought I was nuts. “Won’t it be too cold to doanything? Will places even be open? Will the Falls be frozen?” Ipointed out that we live in Canada, so if we’re going to be coldanyway, it might as well be somewhere beautiful.
Her next questionwas: “Do you want me and the girls to go with you?” I had laughed,even as my heart swelled with affection and gratitude. I told her Iappreciated the offer, but this was something I had to do on myown, and we’d plan a trip for spring or summer when it was warmer.She’d liked that idea much better.
So here I am,alone in the Honeymoon Capital of the World, celebrating mythirty-fourth birthday and the amazing year that just passed. WhenI turned thirty-three last year, I sensed big changes were ahead,and the thought had me equal parts excited and nervous. This pastyear has been one of beginnings, endings, trials, andtriumphs.
Tonight is my lastof four nights in the Falls. Since it’s off season, all the hotelsare cheap, which means instead of the budget motel I initiallyplanned to book, I was able to splurge on a nice place with a viewof the Falls and an indoor pool. I’ve spent more time than I canaccount for simply wandering the promenade in front of the Falls,mesmerized by the sights and sounds of the rushing water. I’ve alsoplayed tourist and walked up and down Clifton Hill countless times,checking out some of the wonderfully cheesy attractions like LouisTussaud’s Waxworks and Ripley’s Believe It or Not! I was able totake my time—and as many ridiculous selfies as I wanted—becausemost places are half empty.
I’ve also wanderedthrough the Festival of Lights every night. It’s beautiful andpeaceful and fills my Christmas-loving heart…but I’d be lying if Isaid I haven’t been keeping an eye out for Cole. I’ve met othertourists along the way and was even invited to join a group ofwomen at the Rainforest Café for drinks on my second night here,but my eyes are always peeled for a man with tousled dark hair,blue-gray eyes, and a heart-stopping smile.
The night is cooland damp, and mist hangs in the air from the Falls. It’s not ascold here as I expected it to be, but the fresh air has had theeffect of clearing my mind and helping me reflect on the past yearwhile preparing for the year ahead.
I stop in front ofa display of giant, glowing silver bells. I saw them my first nighthere and snapped a selfie to send to my dad. He and my mom didn’tlove the idea of me coming here alone or spending my birthday on myown, but they understand how much has changed for me this year andthat I needed this. The day I left, my dad showed up at myapartment, telling me he wanted to be with Milo when I left—Milodoesn’t travel well, so my parents offered to check in on him whileI’m away—and right before I walked out the door, Dad slipped somecash into my hand and told me how proud he is of me.
I’m about to carryon down the path when the sound of a man humming reaches my ears. Islip my hand into my pocket and finger my keys; I’ve felt safehere, even at night, but you can never be too careful. The handgripping my keys trembles slightly when the hummed notes becomeclear and I realize the tune is “Silver Bells”.
I turn slowly inthe direction of the sound. It’s a coincidence. It’s simply someonewith a popular holiday song stuck in their head. I’ve heard atleast a dozen renditions of it since I’ve been here; in fact, asouvenir shop was blasting Michael Bublé’s version when I passed onmy way here tonight.
My eyes land onCole as he saunters under a nearby lamppost, the yellow glowilluminating him like a spotlight. He sings, “It’s Christmas timein the city,” in a clear, soft voice that makes me understand thephrase ‘weak in the knees’ for the first time in my life. He stopsin front of me, cocking his head to the side. “Is Niagara Falls acity? Or a town?”
“Acity,” I say, giddy laughter bubbling inside me and making thewords shaky.
“That’swhat I thought.” His gaze seems to drink me in, sweeping over mebefore returning to my face. His eyes are bright in the darkness,and I don’t think it’s my imagination that he’s feeling the sameexcitement and wonder I am at this moment. “Well, Silver Bells, areyou gonna hug me or what?”
I launch myself athim, letting the laughter spill from my lips as he wraps his armsaround me and pulls me tight to his body. He chuckles softly in myear, his breath ruffling my hair. I’m almost afraid to release himin case I suddenly wake up back in my fancy hotel room and realizeI’ve been dreaming.
“You’rehere,” he says, loosening his hold on me. He releases me inincrements, his hands gripping my shoulders, then my upper arms,then finally sliding to grip my glove-covered hands. “You’re reallyhere.”
“You’rereally here,” I echo, unable toform any other intelligible words. It’s my turn to drink him innow; a five o’clock shadow has sprouted on his face, and his hairis a bit longer than it was last year. The mist in the air has madeit curl around his ears and forehead in a way that’s bothadorableandsexyas hell. Somehow, he looks even better than he did a yearago.
“Thefirst thing I did when I arrived yesterday was check out thefestival,” he says. “I felt a bit ridiculous looking for you, but Icouldn’t help it. I came again earlier tonight too, around dusk.Even saw someone I thought was you and stopped myself just beforeaccosting her. I went back to my hotel and was about to leave townwhen I felt this weird pull to take one more stroll through thelights.”
“I feellike I should make a joke about a journalist trusting their gut,but…”
“But itseems like more than that?”
