Iexpected Nico to protest when I told him I was driving us back to Wintermore, but he looked down at his sling quietly for a moment and nodded. Progress.
Of course, now that we’re in the car, I’m not entirely sure he’s breathing.
Shay and Noelle dropped Nico’s Jeep off at the hospital this morning, and, as much as I love my car, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to go back to driving Mimi the Mini after this. It drives like a dream.
“Does your Jeep have a name?” I ask Nico, who is clutching the seatbelt with his good hand so hard I can see his veins.
“It doesn’t, but I assume that’s about to change.”
He assumes correctly. I mull it over as we fly down the highway (at a respectable ten below the speed limit), the mountains flanking the road. It’s funny how much I miss being up there, when I’ve spent most of my life in a city. I’m sure Wintermore is a nice town, but I’ll miss the quiet.
“Peej,” I say finally, and I feel Nico turn to look at me.
“PJ?”
“Yeah, but spelled P E E J. It’s Jeep backward.”
“Of course it is.” When I turn to look at him, he’s smiling, and it feels damn good. “I love it, angel. But please, for the love of god, keep your eyes on the road.”
“Right. Noted.” I don’t let my gaze stray from the windshield.
“You’re a good driver, for the record. I’m just… me.”
I want to reach across and squeeze his knee, but I don’t want him to panic. “You’re handling it well. And Peej might be bigger than my Mini, but he’s got nothing on a 737. I’ve got this, promise.”
I see Nico relax a little in my periphery. “I trust you in a car, and I’d trust you in a plane, baby. It’s just going to take some getting used to.”
He’s under strict instructions to wear his sling for at least four weeks, and likely won’t be able to drive for a while longer than that. It’s unavoidable exposure therapy for him, letting someone drive him, I suppose.
As we pass theWelcome to Wintermore! Where it’s Christmas Every Day!sign, Nico directs me to Noelle’s old apartment, but it’s easy to find. Wintermore’s Main Street runs straight through the middle of town, and Shay and Noelle’s bakery is right in the center. On one side, Spicy or Sweet, the bakery they operate out of and live above. On the other, the charred remains of The Enchanted Bakery—Noelle’s old one that caught fire last year. Though it doesn’t look so charred anymore.
Nico showed me pictures from after the fire a few weeks ago, but he mentioned they’d been chipping away at renovating. I could tell he was interested in therenovation—which makes sense, given his line of work. Maybe I can convince him to talk to Shay about helping.
Noelle’s old apartment is upstairs. Her uncle Henry and Quinn took Sloane up to the cabin yesterday to pack up some of our stuff and bring it down. I almost cry when I open the apartment door and see Amelia Bearhart sitting on the coffee table beside my Kindle. I’ve missed them.
The apartment is cozy, with lots of warm wood and fall colors. There’s also a Christmas tree taking up a big chunk of the living room.
Nico must see the question in my eyes, because he chuckles and says, “Noelle. Her whole family is Christmas-obsessed. They moved here because of the Christmas movie.”
“Is it sacrilege if I say I’ve never actually seenA Christmas Wish in the Mountains?”
“Here? Yes. But we should watch it sometime. It was Georgie’s favorite movie.” Her name rolls smoothly off his tongue.
“I’d like that,” I say, being careful not to bump his sling as I wrap my arms around his middle. He can only half hug me back, but god, it feels good.
I close my eyes, relishing in the feel of him, breathing in the scent of him. Sloane grabbed the jacket he usually wears when he takes the dogs out, and the mountain air scent clings to it. “It’s not cabin quiet, but it’s peaceful here. No beeping hospital machines.”
Nico bends until his forehead is pressed to mine. “You’re here, angel. I’m happy.”
“Charmer,” I murmur against his lips, unable to stopmyself from smiling as he kisses me. “How are you feeling? Tired?” I ask as we both drop onto the couch—Nico much more gracefully than me, thanks to his sling.
“I’m okay, actually. You? I have an idea if you’re not too tired.”
“I’m all good.” Nico and I slept through most of the night last night, other than one visit from a nurse to check his vitals. “What are you thinking?”
“I thought we could order dinner and watch a movie. Have our date night, after all. If you want.” He sounds nervous, like there’s a world in which I would ever say no.
“That’s exactly what I want,” I say, pulling my phone from my pocket to look up takeout places nearby.
