“Exactly. Like…serendipity.”
Cole’s crookedsmile draws my attention to his lips, reminding me what it was liketo kiss him last year while standing under a lamppost decked withmaybe-mistletoe.
“Areyou here alone?” he asks. The question is tentative, making mewonder if he’s not quite sure he wants to hear theanswer.
“I am.Are you?”
He nods, releasingone of my hands to brush a fly-away bit of hair from my face. I canonly imagine how I must look right now; besides my bewilderment atseeing him, I likely have a halo of frizz around my hairline fromthe moisture in the air. When I returned to the hotel the firstnight, I cackled when I saw my reflection in the bathroom mirror.I’m used to my hair looking like that in the heat of summer, not inDecember temperatures.
I’m notsure what I expect him to say next, but it’s not, “Did you read mypiece about the Village onTheBuzz?”
“I did.It was fantastic. You have a real gift with words, Cole. Andphotography too, especially with just a camera phone.”
He smiles again,ducking his head. “Thank you. It was a fun piece towrite.”
I poke his arm, myfinger sinking into the thick material of his coat. “I particularlyliked the bit about how it’s not every day you see an elf dancing ajig.”
He peers down atmy boot-clad feet. “Care to do a jig for me now?”
“Sorry,I’ve hung up my elf-slash-jigging shoes for the season.”
“Doesthat mean you worked as an elf again this year?”
I ponder how muchcan be said in the short amount of time we have together. “I didpart-time elf duty in between my new full-time gig.”
Cole studies myface for a long moment. He releases one of my hands again, thistime to glance at his watch. “Do you feel like wandering for a bit?Maybe getting a drink?”
His suggestionmakes my heart surge with something akin to hope. “I thought youwere heading back to Toronto?”
“Thatwas the plan, but it seems fate or serendipity or some cosmic forcehad something else in mind, don’t you think?”
I press my lipstogether to hold back a smile, but it’s no use. “I mean, it seemsdisrespectful to the universe to squander this serendipitousencounter.”
“Agreed. So…doyou have time for a wander and a drink?”
“I haveall night.” The words come out quiet and weighty, sounding like aninvitation. That wasn’t my intention and yet itdoesfeel as if some higher power hasintervened to bring us together again. I’ve thought about Cole somany times in the last year. I’ve wondered how different thingsmight have been if we’d had a bit more time together that night orif I’d invited him back to my place. I can’t let this opportunityslip through my fingers.
“Well,then, so do I.” He turns to the side, offering me his arm. I linkmine through his and we set off through the Festival ofLights.
***
“Toserendipity,” I say, lifting my glass toward Cole.
“Toserendipity,” he echoes. “And Niagara Falls. Andyou. It’s really damn goodto see you again, Sylvie.”
“It’sreally damn good to see you again too, Cole.” I clink my glassagainst his and take a sip of the bright red liquid. The cocktailis called Christmas Punch, and it’s fruity and fizzy with a kick ofrum. Cole was going to get a beer, but it took less convincing thananticipated to get him to try the Christmas Punch withme.
We spent the lasthour wandering through the Festival of Lights before visiting thebeautifully illuminated Falls. We didn’t say much as we walked, oras we turned in unison and began the trek up CliftonHill.
I was so wrappedup in Cole—his wintry scent, the warmth of his hand in mine, hisdeep voice and quiet laughter—I didn’t even notice the name of thebar we slipped into. The low-lit room is about half full, and everyinch is decorated for the holidays.
My face hurts fromsmiling and laughing so much, and I laugh again now at Cole’spuckered expression as he sets his drink down.
“Tellme about the last year,” he says.
“Wow,that’s a tall order.”
He tilts his head.He’s still grinning at me, and I can feel the growing smile on myown face just from having his attention on me. “The highlights,then.”
