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She nodded and shut the door.

We walked back to the sidewalk. “Harris has a beanbag with those little balls. They get all over the place when loose. They float really well.”

“Okay,” Fiona said, obviously not understanding what I was getting at.

“I’m going to try them in the snow globe and on my art project. I think they’ll actually stay afloat. Swirl beautifully.”

“Swirl beautifully?”

“Don’t mock me.” For the first time all week, I felt lighter. Like maybe I could salvage things, bring back some magic.

Chapter 29

The tapping on my window that night wasn’t as frightening as the first time I’d heard it, but it still made me jump. And it still made my eyes dart to my bedroom door to make sure nobody else had heard it. But it was late and the house was quiet.

I tiptoed to my window and pulled open the blinds carefully, then slid open the glass. Ryan was there, holding a … garment bag?

“What are you doing? Are you crazy?” I whispered. “Get in here.” It was freezing outside. Icy. I worried about his safety on the metal ladder, especially while carrying something.

“I’m crazy for you,” he said back with a smirk.

I shook my head but helped him climb inside, first by relieving him of the bag, which I tossed on my bed, then by holding his hand as he stepped over the window frame and ducked through the opening.

I shut the window and closed the blinds. When I turned to ask him again what he was doing, he pulled me into a hug. I was wearing a T-shirt and loose flannel pajama pants, and his coat was cold against the skin of my bare arms. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I really didn’t care what he was doing, I was just happy he was here—relieved he was here.

“I brought you something,” he said against my temple.

“Oh, right.” The garment bag. I’d immediately forgotten about it. “What is it?”

He kissed my cheek and then my neck playfully, multiple times. “Go see.”

I tried to pull away, but he still had me in a hug. “You have to let me go first.”

“Do I?” He kissed my mouth this time. A peck at first, but then I pushed into it, wanting it to linger. He responded, turning his kiss from a short touch to a drawn-out one. His mouth was soft and warm. His tongue brushed against my bottom lip. I melted further into him.

“Seriously,” he said, trailing kisses along my cheek. “Go see what I risked life and limb to bring you.”

“Seriously,” I parroted. “You need to stop climbing up that ladder.”

“How else am I supposed to see you?”

“Text me. We can meet somewhere.”

“Not as romantic,” he said.

“You know what’s also not romantic?” I asked. “Slipping off a ladder and falling two stories.”

“I mean, one could argue that’s the most romantic.”

“No, one could not,” I said.

He released me from our hug, and I walked to my bed.

We were both being quiet, talking in whispers and low voices. As I stared at the garment bag, he stepped up behind me and put his chin on my shoulder. “Open it.”

“Okay,” I said, wary. I slowly undid the zipper and revealed the most gorgeous deep-blue dress I’d ever seen. I let out a small gasp. “What? I don’t … why?”

“For the Christmas ball. Now you can go with me,” he said as if a dress had been the only thing holding me back.