We head inside,where I introduce Cole to the owners of the Emporium. We’re alloweda brief glimpse into the workshop in the back, where half a dozenemployees are hand painting nutcrackers. I lose track of time asCole and I wander around the shop, pointing out our favoritenutcrackers and watching other people choose their ownfavorites.
When wecome across a sparkly pink and purple nutcracker, Cole immediatelytakes it from the shelf. “I need to buy this one for my niece,” hesays. “My brother is going to kill me because I’ve already boughtherwaytoo much,but I can’t help myself. The kid has had me wrapped around herfinger since birth, and it’s so much fun spoiling her.”
God help me, butthe glow on his face as he talks about his niece makes me like himeven more. I love the thought of Cole as a doting uncle to aprecocious little girl.
Since the store isgetting more crowded by the minute, Cole suggests I wait for him upfront while he goes to pay. Knowing he’ll be awhile, I admire a fewmore displays before making my way to the front.
By the time westep outside again, it’s getting dark. Cole pulls me aside to wherethere’s less foot traffic and takes a few pictures of the Villagebathed in the beautiful twilight glow. When he lowers his phone, hesighs and rakes a hand through his hair.
“I’dbetter hit the road. I have a lot of work to do to get this pieceready on time.”
“Right,of course. Let me walk with you back to the Gate House.”
As we strollthrough the Village, we’re quiet except for the occasional questionfrom him, or me pointing out something we missed before. Now thatCole is leaving, I don’t know what to say beyond what he might needfor his article. Some of his enthusiasm has waned, which makes mewonder if he’s as disappointed to be leaving as I am to see himgo.
When we reach theGate House, we both come to a stop and automatically turn to faceeach other.
“It wasreally nice meeting you, Sylvie Bell,” Cole says. The words areformal, but his tone is warm and his eyes are soft.
I have to stopmyself from blurting something stupid and embarrassing like ‘I wishwe had more time together’. Instead, I say, “It was really nicemeeting you too, Cole.”
Despitehim knowing my last name, it occurs to me I don’t know his. Itfeels weird asking at this point. It doesn’t matter anyway; it’snot like we’ll ever see each other again. And besides, I’ll lookfor his piece when it comes out onTheBuzz, so I’ll find out his full namethen.
“Thanksfor the tour and for…” He trails off, his gaze darting away frommine. He reaches into the paper bag from the Nutcracker Emporiumand pulls out something small wrapped in red tissue paper. “Thanksfor giving me a second chance and not just writing me off as ajerk.”
I don’t have achance to respond before he thrusts the tiny parcel atme.
“I sawthis when I went to pay for my niece’s nutcracker, and it made methink of you. I hope it’s not too weird that I bought you a giftwhen we’ve only known each other for a couple hours.” He tilts hishead and lifts one shoulder, giving me a self-deprecatingsmile.
“Definitely weird,” I tease, unable to contain my own smile.“Really,reallyweird. In fact, I’m not sure I should accept it.”
“Okay,well…” He starts to pull his hand away, so I grab his arm with onehand and pluck the gift from his fingers with the other. He huffsout a laugh as I nestle the bundle in my palm and pull the tissuepaper away.
Inside is asparkly silver nutcracker holding a staff topped with a pair oftiny silver bells. I’m embarrassed by the emotion that clogs mythroat. I’m even more embarrassed when I blurt out the words I keptto myself a few minutes ago: “I wish we had more timetogether.”
Cole’s eyebrowsinch up and his lips part in surprise. He closes his mouth,pressing his lips together and nodding. “I do too. I’d stay if Icould, but…”
“It’sokay,” I say quickly. “Thank you for this little guy.” I hold upthe nutcracker. “I love it. That was really sweet ofyou.”
“It wasmy pleasure.” He gives me another nod and starts backing away. Hepauses and, for a brief, wonderful moment, I think he’s going tosay something else or maybe sweep me into his arms and hug megoodbye. Instead, he gives me a sad little smile and says, “See youaround, Sylvie,” before turning and walking away.
CHAPTER TWO
I think about Colethe entire drive home. The way he relaxed and allowed his smiles tocome easier as the afternoon wore on. The way those smiles gave mea bubbly feeling inside like when you down a glass of sparklingwine instead of taking the intended sip. That spark when our handsfirst touched. The rational part of me knows it was staticelectricity, but after spending nearly two hours with Cole, itfeels like it was something else.
I try to pushthoughts of him aside as I climb the stairs to my apartment. I’mnever going to see him again, so it would only end in heartache forme to stoke the fires of this unexpected crush.
The second I pullmy keys from my purse, I hear the telltale thump of my cat, Milo,jumping from the couch to the floor. I unlock the door and catchthe glow of his eyes in the darkness as he streaks across the roomto greet me, ramming his giant orange body against my shins ingreeting.
“Hello,Mister.” I drop my purse on the floor and scoop Milo into my arms.He presses his squashy face into my shoulder and starts hisbattered engine purr.
I adopted Milofrom the animal shelter two years ago. My best friend dragged me tothe shelter one day after deciding she wanted to adopt a dog. Theminute I entered the room with the cats, Milo let out ahuman-sounding yowl that raised every hair on my body. When Irealized the sound was coming from a cat who was the size of asmall dog, with freakishly long legs and a face that looked like ithad been hit with a frying pan, I was equal parts horrified andintrigued.
The employeeshowing Mindy and me around zeroed in on where I was looking andtold me Milo had been in the shelter since his previous ownerpassed away six months before. When she said he was overlooked timeand time again because people wanted a younger cat—“and a moreattractive one” she’d whispered, as if worried Milo wouldunderstand her and take offence—my heart nearly broke. She let meplay with him while Mindy visited the dogs. Mindy left empty handedthat day, but I filled out the paperwork to adopt Milo, and Ibrought him home a few days later.
“How’smy best guy?” I ask Milo, burying my face in his fur. He lets out acrackly-sounding meow and butts his head against my shoulder. He’salways been a lovebug, but he’s been extra lovey lately, as if hesenses I’ve been a bit lonely.
I set him downwhen he squirms in my arms. He darts toward the kitchen, then stopsand looks over his shoulder to see if I’m following. I already knowhe’s going to lead me to his half-full food dish and let out aplaintive meow as if I haven’t fed him in days and he’s wastingaway. That’s exactly what he does and, because I’m home early andin such a good mood—and because I feel bad about how strict hisdiet has been since the vet told me he needed to slim down—I open acan of his favorite wet food and serve it to him on his favoritedish. Cat Mom win or Cat Mom fail? I don’t know, but either way,the little squawk he makes as he dives in makes mehappy.
