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“Get Italian food?”

I roll my eyes. “Go on dates. I know you said you haven’t had anything serious in a while, but casually. You know all about my very limited, and fucked up, dating history. If you can call it that.”

“There was never anyone before my dad?”

I don’t miss the distaste in his tone when he mentions his dad, though I know him well enough to know it isn’t directed at me.

“Unless you count my ten-day fling with Evan Locke when we were eleven—he gave me a ring pop, then decided he liked Piper more than me—then no. I wasn’t really interested in anyone here, and there wasn’t much time in college.”

“How irrational is it for me to hate Evan Locke, even though I’ve never met him?” Killian asks, pulling a laugh from me.

“You have met him, actually. He’s the manager at the grocery store.”

Very few people grow up and grow out of Clover Pines. As far as small towns go, it’s in a perfect spot; the town itself is quiet and surrounded by gorgeous countryside, but we’re only thirty minutes from Calgary, and there are tons of other little towns dotted around. Of course, not everyone wants to be stuck in Alberta. Piper has spent her whole life dreaming of getting out of here, but most of my old classmates seem content.

“Tall, very blond, never seen without a clipboard.” I describe Evan, and recognition dawns on Killian’s face.

“I never liked that guy.”

“Liar. And quit dodging the question. It’s your turn.”

“I’m not dodging,” he promises. “There’s just nothing particularly exciting to tell you. My longest relationship was in uni, but we broke up when we graduated because he was going to grad school abroad and he didn’t want to do long distance. Since then, I’ve dated a few people on and off, but nothing serious. I haven’t been in a relationship for a few years, and the last one ended because we just drifted apart. Fallon set me up with her—she occasionally decides I’m lonely and pesters me until I agree to go out with someone. But I don’t really see the point in dating for dating’s sake, you know?”

I’m not not relieved that he doesn’t have an ex-partner for us to contend with; my situation is complicated enough. But I still don’t like hearing about his past relationships. Which is incredibly unfair of me, considering my ex is literally his dad. I suppose I understand his qualms with Evan, now.

Still, I’m surprised he’s made it to thirty-three without someone realizing how good he is. He’s the kind of man you see on screen—the one after the big-city main character’s terrible big-city boyfriend cheats on her, and she runs away to her hometown and immediately finds the man she was meant to be with all along. Killian is the kind of man people dream about, and he’s on a date with me, of all people. The world hasn’t been kind to me in recent years, and I’m not going to give anyone credit for Killian’s kindness but him, but I appreciate the universe for nudging him in my direction. Even if he does feel a little too good to be true.

“What’s that look you’re giving me?” Killian asks, toying with his napkin like he’s nervous about my reaction to his dating history.

“Nothing. It’s just … I find it hard to believe someone hasn’t snapped you up. You’re just so … you.”

Killian laughs, a soft, warm sound that wraps me up like a hug. “Guess I just hadn’t met the right person yet.”

The “yet” feels weighted. Or maybe I’m imagining it. But I think I’d quite like to be his “yet”.

Snow started falling as we shared the most beautiful tiramisu I’ve ever eaten, and Killian’s eyes lit up as he watched through the window. Otter Peak is as picturesque as Clover Pines at this time of year—the streets are lined with trees covered in twinkly lights and sparkly garlands. I noticed Killian looking at them as we walked from the car to the restaurant, noticed the smile that lifted his lips when a string version of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” came on in the restaurant. Clearly, he loves this time of year. I should’ve known, after the effort he put into our Christmas tree surprise, as well as the ornaments and treats he got for the kids. Not to mention the Christmas coloring sheets he’s been doing with them, and the book he picked up to read to them at bedtime, about Santa’s reindeer trying to find the perfect Christmas present for Rudolph.

So, when the server comes to clear our table and asks if we’re in town for the Christmas fair in the town square, it’s a no-brainer to suggest we should go.

It’s a short walk to the town square, and I’m glad we stopped to change into warmer clothes before coming out tonight. Killian wraps an arm around my waist, his gloved hand resting on my hip, and I lay my head on his shoulder, breathing him in.

“Holy shit. This is amazing,” he says, as we round the corner and spy the town square. Otter Peak has put on a Christmas fair for as long as I can remember, but I haven’t been since high school, and it’s grown since then.

The center of the square is taken up by an ice rink, with multicolored Christmas lights crisscrossing over the top. Stalls and food trucks line the sides, and speakers are dotted around the perimeter, playing Christmas music.

I’m more interested in watching Killian’s reaction to it all than taking in the fair myself.

We stop by a hot chocolate truck—Killian gets peppermint white chocolate; I get dark chocolate cherry—and make our way around the square.

“What’s Christmas like in Bray?” I ask as we tour the stalls. I know so little about his hometown, despite it being one of the few things Dom was actually honest about. Looking back, I can’t believe I never pushed him for more information—or even looked up the town myself. But I suppose it just never occurred to me when I was postpartum, lonely, and exhausted.

“Nothing like this,” Killian tells me. “They have a few lights, and the schoolkids do a carol concert, but that’s all. My mom loves Christmas markets, though, so we went to the big markets in Dublin most years growing up. She would love this.”

“You must miss her.” He’s giving up so much to be here.

“I do. But I’m sure I’ll see her soon.” It’s another reminder that he’s leaving, and I don’t want to think about it. “Is this here every year?”

“Every year for the whole month of December. It’s bigger than it was when I was a kid, though. The ice rink is new.”