“No.” What would I do with mistletoe, when the boy I love is on the other side of the country? But then I turn my eyes to Harrison, and I realize I’m spending Christmas Eve with a boy who doesn’t know me at all, who’s never seen me have a panic attack, who I’ve never cried myself to sleep over.
Harrison is a mystery, his hands in his pockets, his eyes trained on me. Everything about him is a surprise. At home with Fitz, every look is full of meaning and buried under a dozen layers of history and feelings and disappointment and expectations.
Maybe Harrison is the adventure I’ve been looking for.
“I want to be brave.” I want to make a decision on my own, without the help of an app. I want to be the type of person who knows what it’s like to have a gut feeling and act on it.
“Ho ho ho! I’ll do my best.” Santa hands me a mini candy cane and signals that it’s time for me to leave. Real beard or not, I can’t get what I want from him.
“Ready to go?” Harrison holds out his hand to help me up from Santa’s lap.
I take a deep breath and exhale it slowly. My phone sits heavy in my pocket, and my fingers itch to reach for the security that lies within the app, but I ignore it. I slip my fingers into Harrison’s.
I’m ready.
Fitz’s hand slips off my thigh as I lean across the aisle in the empty train car. His eyes are trained on my lips. My heart thunders as I close the final distance between us, my lips a breath from his, when a voice from the front of the train breaks the heady silence.
“Hide your daughters, Fitz Wilding is in town.”
Fitz and I lurch away from each other. A girl our age, maybe a little older, with chin-length brown hair and big round glasses is standing in the middle of the aisle. She puts a hand on her hip, drawing my eyes to her miniskirt and wool tights. “I ran into your sister outside; she told me you were here, but she didn’t tell me you were busy.” Her voice is thick with innuendo as she raises her eyebrows.
The sharp heat of embarrassment burns my cheeks. “No! We’re not! It’s fine!”
“Bernie. Hey,” Fitz says flatly. He slants a pained look at me. “This is Paige.”
“Paige? Ohhh!” she drawls. “Good for you.” She nudges him playfully with her shoulder. “Glad to know you’re not still pining over me.”
“Bernie …” Fitz pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Now is not a great time.”
“Sure. How long are you in town? We should catch up. Oh! Bash and I are throwing a New Year’s Eve party at our house. You should come. Both of you!” She smiles brightly. My insides wither.
“Yeah. Maybe,” Fitz says shortly.
“Right. Well …” Her eyes flick from me to Fitz. “We’ll talk later? Say yes.”
“Yes,” he agrees.
“Perfect!” She bends to hug him, then saunters off the train with a wave.
“Paige—” Fitz turns to me, his hands up in a gesture of surrender as Jane returns empty-handed.
“I couldn’t find any crutches.”
“It’s okay! I don’t need them!” I jump to my feet, ignoring the stinging pain in my knee and the dull ache in my ankle. I move quickly down the aisle. Jane steps to the side and allows me to hobble past her.
“Paige! Hold up!” Fitz rushes to follow me.
Outside, the train depot is practically empty. The passengers are gone and the lights inside are shut off. Employees sweep trash in the dark. The snow has stopped falling, leaving behind slick surfaces, bitter cold, and nowhere to sit. Just like that, the magic is gone.
Fitz catches up to me on the wet sidewalk outside the train. “I’ve never seen you run so fast.”
I can’t hold it in any longer, not after coming face-to-face with another girl from Fitz’s past. “You wanted it to be Molly on that train. You invited her first, and you’re stuck with me.”
“No. Inviting you here had nothing to do with her.”
I’ve been his best friend for long enough to know when he’s lying to me. This time, he’s not. But only because he doesn’t know the truth.
“She regrets breaking up with you.”
“What?” His spine straightens. “How do you know that?”
“She told me.”
He blinks, processing this information.
“Knowing that, do you still want me here?”
Fitz hesitates for the length of a single heartbeat. “Obviously. I always want you where I am,” he says quietly.
And this time? I want to believe him, but that moment of hesitation still hangs in the air like a hand grenade.
“Tell me this night wasn’t planned for Molly.”
He sighs. “What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
“Fine. Yes. I planned it for her—”
I turn to leave.
“Wait, wait, wait, hold up,” he says in a desperate rush. “I’m glad it’s not Molly here with me.”
“Why?” I breathe, not daring to hope for a specific answer.
“Because—” He sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. “Because—” he tries again, and my insides shrivel with humiliation at the fact that he can’t even come up with one reason he wants me here.
“Because we’re best friends?” I supply, just to end the agony.
He pauses, his face inscrutable. “Sure,” he says derisively. “Best friends.”
I cannot believe I almost kissed him. I’ll never not be a fool for him, and I hate it. When I’m feeling wounded like this, I have two modes: teary or bitchy. I choose the latter. “So where does Bernie fall in the lineup? Before Molly, obviously. But after Ruby? Or between Ivy and Ruby? Or, I don’t know, maybe there was some overlap,” I say, sounding every inch the jealous girlfriend.
“I’ve never cheated on anyone.” Fitz’s voice is colder than ice.
I raise my eyebrows and shrug.
His jaw strains. “If you’ve got something to say, why don’t you come out and say it?”
I swallow, already hating the words I’m about to say. “Come on, Fitz. It’s no secret that you …”
“That I what?”
“You know. You date around. Like, a lot.” I choke on the words. I’m such a coward, putting him down for his fearless heart.
He turns to leave.
“That’s it? Fight over?” I call after him.
He spins and stalks toward me. “Fight definitely not over. We’re going to figure this out, but we’re going to do it inside because it’s freezing out here.” He takes me above the elbow and steers me into the gift shop. My ankle loosens up with every step, the pain receding quickly. As soon as the warm air hits my face, I wrench out of his grip, breathing hard.
He backs me up against a shelf of snow globes. My eyes dart to the exit, but he puts his arm on the shelf, blocking my path. “I know every instinct in your body is telling you to run from this conversation, but there are obviously things that need to be said. Bernie and I—”
“You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“Interesting apology. Kinda sucked, actually. But I’m going to forgive you, because I’m operating under a theory right now.”