“Snuggling is good,” I say. “Except the next time you kiss me,I hope it lasts longer than a few seconds.”
We’ve startedwalking again and Cole nearly stumbles. He chuckles under hisbreath, slinging his arm around my shoulders, and giving me acrooked smile that warms me from head to toe. “Your wish is mycommand.”
The words remindme of Santa Elvis telling me to make a wish. I thought it wasbetter to keep it broad because there are a million possibilitiesand a million different versions of happily ever after. And rightnow, as Cole tucks me against his side, I can’t help wishing one ofthose versions somehow includes him.
CHAPTER FOUR
For the entirefirst revolution of the SkyWheel, I’m plastered to the window ofour gondola, watching in awe as the view of the city and the Fallsbecomes more and more spectacular. As we begin our second slowascent into the sky, Cole nudges me with his knee and holds out thewhite box he’s been carrying since we left the bar.
“Can wewait?” I ask. My mind swirls with ways to tell him I want toprolong our time together as much as possible, draw out everysecond we have since the clock is ticking toward the unknown.Despite my inability to articulate what I’m feeling, Cole seems tounderstand. He sets the box on the other side of the bench andinches closer to me, pulling me into his arms and angling me so Ican see out the window again.
Ten minutes later,we’re back on solid ground, and I’m once again wondering how todraw out our time together. Without a word, Cole takes my hand andwe start walking. I’m not sure if he has a destination in mind, buthis slow pace tells me we’re putting in time until one of us makesa decision about what comes next.
“Wheredo you think serendipity will lead us next year?” he asks. “I, forone, wouldn’t mind if it was somewhere warm.”
Ilaugh, and it hangs in the air between us in the form of a whitepuff. “Somewhere warm would be nice. I was trying to think of whatto do for my birthday next year since I’ll be thirty-five. MaybeI’ll plan a tropical vacation and we’llreallyput the universe to the testand see if we’re thrown together again.”
Cole grips thesleeve of my coat and pulls me to a stop under a streetlamp. Thewhite light illuminates his beautiful blue-gray eyes and the silverstrands in his dark hair. Without a word, he holds out the whitetakeout box to me.
This time, I takeit. I lift the lid to reveal a small cupcake; the top is slatheredin thick chocolate frosting, with a dusting of rainbow starsprinkles. Nestled into the box beside it is a purple candle and aNiagara Falls novelty lighter.
Cole plucks thecandle and lighter from the box. “Do you want me to sing thebirthday song?” he asks as he sticks the candle in thecupcake.
“Imean, wedidjustspend half an hour being serenaded by Elvis himself. How confidentare you in your singing ability?”
With his eyes onthe candle, he peers up through his lashes, giving me that crookedsmile. He flicks the lighter, touching the flame to the candle. Heclears his throat, opens his mouth, and then closes it again as atrio of teenagers pass us. “Nope, can’t do it. Sorry.”
My laughter makesthe flame dance. “You could hum the tune,” I suggest.
His grin, pairedwith a sardonic brow lift, makes my heart stutter. “Make a wish,Silver Bells.”
Make awish.There’s something about this nightand making wishes. Should I wish for the same thing as before orsomething different? Keep it general like my wish to Santa Elvis orget more specific?
I meetCole’s eyes—kind and patient, with a hint of curiosity—and thenclose mine.I wish this next year will beeven better than the one I’ve just had.Pretty general, sure, but it feels right. I’ve found my happythis year, and I want to carry that into next year and expand onit. I open my eyes and blow out the flame.
Cole frees thecandle from the frosting and pockets the lighter before pluckingthe cupcake from the box and handing it to me. He tosses the box ina nearby trash can as I unwrap the cupcake and take a bite. My eyesclose and a moan slips from my throat as the rich chocolate hits mytongue. When I open my eyes again, Cole is watching me intently. Ihold the cupcake out and he takes a bite, his eyes only leavingmine briefly to dip to my mouth when I unconsciously lick mylips.
As I take thefinal bite of the cupcake, Cole opens his mouth to say something,but a loud cackle, followed by a chorus of cheers, draws ourattention down the street. A group of women are staggering up thehill, half of them bent over at the waist as hysterical gigglesspill from their mouths. The woman in the center has a tiara with aveil perched askew on her head, and a bright pink sash with theword BRIDE slung over her open jacket.
“Lookat these two cuties!” she screeches, tottering toward us on hersky-high stilettos. The heel of one catches in a crack on thesidewalk and she pitches forward, her arms pinwheeling frantically.Cole darts toward her, catching her before she becomes a sidewalkpancake. He helps her straighten and holds onto her while she getsher bearings. She continues to wobble, but if the boozy smellwafting off her is any indication, I’m guessing her unsteadiness isas much from copious amounts of alcohol as her shoes.
“Myhero!” she cries, leaning heavily on Cole as she dissolves intogiggles. “I might have looked like a squashy-faced pug on mywedding day if you hadn’t saved me!”
Cole shoots me ahelpless look over the woman’s shoulder that makes me stifle my owngiggles.
“Happyto help,” he says. “Think you can stand on your own?”
“We gother.” One of her friends—this one wearing a pink sash with Maid ofHonor written on it—steps forward and hooks her arm around thebride-to-be. She doesn’t look much steadier than herfriend.
“Here,have this,” the bride says, fishing in her jacket pocket andpulling out what looks like a sprig of plastic mistletoe. “I’vebeen handing these out all night. I’m getting married on ChristmasEve, so I’m spreading a little love and Christmas kissy magic. Nowgo plant one on your pretty girlfriend over there.”
The bridal partymove past us in a tittering, chattering mass. I watch them gobefore turning back to Cole, who’s standing in the same spot,eyeing the mistletoe in his hand. His faraway expression makes mewonder if he’s thinking about his almost-wedding last Christmas.When he didn’t mention anything about his ex tonight, I purposelydidn’t bring her up because I didn’t want to open a can ofworms.
“Youokay?” I ask.
“Hmm?”He spins to look at me. “Oh, yeah. Fine. I was just wondering…arewe sure this is mistletoe? Kind of looks like holly tome.”
Relief washes overme. I step closer to him and peer at the greenery in his hand.“Nope, definitely mistletoe. See the white berries? Holly hasthicker leaves and red berries.”
