He smirks. “Tomorrow ends the no-shave donation challenge we were doing, so yeah.”
“Are you going for a clean shave or a mustache this time?”
“Depends.” Fletcher winks. “What do you prefer?”
I shrug. “Surprise me.”
Easy, carefree moments like this have always been my favorite, but now I’m looking at them through a different lens. Could we be more than friends? Am I ready to take that step?
“Will do.” Fletcher wraps his arm around me, pulling me so my head rests on his shoulder.
“Is it weird that I’m still processing this? I’m having a baby. It doesn’t feel real.”
Fletcher hesitates, biting his lower lip. “It doesn’t for me, either. But I know that it’s going to be amazing.You’regoing to be amazing.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as the world becomes blurry.
“Thanks.” My voice wavers. “I don’t think I could do this without you.”
Fletcher scoffs. “Yes, youcould. I don’t know how to take care of babies, so I’ll probably hurt more than help, but there’s nowhere I would rather be.”
The soft press of his lips to the top of my head makes me shiver. It’s not something I’m used to, but it feels nice, like a bridge into this new chapter of our friendship. Or maybe something more.
“Can you tell me now?”I ask for the tenth time since we got into Fletcher’s car.
Fletcher laughs under his breath. “No. Like I said before, you’ll see when we get there.”
He drapes his hand over my thick thigh, only instead of a simple tap like usual, he rests it there, his large palm spread, giving it a gentle squeeze. Those traitorous goose bumps spread down my arms, a regular occurrence now when he touches me.
I must admit, he did a good job picking my outfit. He chose my favorite pastel pink sweater dress and tall boots. The only thing I added was a pair of sheer tights. He even picked a matching hat and my wool peacoat.
As for him, I nearly melted when he stepped out into the living room. He shaved his beard, leaving a nice trim on his cheeks, but above his lip sits a dark mustache. On anyone else, I would hate it, but on him? It’s so handsome.
He is wearing a pair of dark brown slacks, a tan turtleneck sweater, and his tan wool peacoat over it all. He looks like he stepped straight out of a magazine.
Giddiness thrums through my body as we drive outside of the city and into a small town. I’ve been in this area a few times, but not recently.
Fletcher keeps his hand on my thigh for the remainder of the drive until we reach our destination. When we pull into a parking lot, and the only thing I can see is Christmas lights, my heart skips a beat.
“A Christmas festival?” I wonder aloud, smiling to myself.
I don’t get an answer out of Fletcher before he’s climbing out of the car and around to my side, opening the door, and holding a hand out to me.
“Ready?” he asks.
I can barely see the hint of redness in his cheeks. Is he nervous?
“Yes,” I whisper, taking his hand.
Instead of dropping it when I’m on my own two feet, he laces our fingers together, swinging our arms as we walk toward the entrance.
22
TWINKLING LIGHTS & HOT CHOCOLATE
FLETCHER
This was a perfect idea. I’ll have to thank Grace tomorrow when I send an update in the Operation Ruin The Friendship group chat. Seeing her eyes light up with the realization of where we were was like a shot of joy straight to my heart. And now, our hands are entwined. I never want to let her go.
