“Fork on the left, knife and spoon on the right. Anyway, Jay and I need help. We served lunch at the shelter today, and then he surprised me with Polar Express tickets. You know how many nieces and nephews he has—”
“Like a hundred.”
“Exactly. They’re all coming. It’s a huge thing. We’re right outside Williams now with a flat tire. We have a spare but no jack.”
“Where are you? We’ll bring one.” I don’t need to ask to know Fitz will want to help.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you. I owe you big. We’re on the highway, at the ten miles to Williams sign. We were behind his family and we don’t want to call them back in case they miss the train. The kids are all so excited.”
“No problem. See you in a few minutes.” I hang up the phone and explain the situation. Fitz leaves the silverware in a pile and we pull on coats and gloves as we dash out to his truck. Inside the freezing cab, I’m all too aware that this is the first time we’ve been alone together since last night. He drove me to the cabin in silence (me touching him as little as possible, him grumbling when I refused to put my arms around his waist). Inside, I trekked to the basement, where I locked myself in the bathroom and took a steaming shower that turned my skin red. When I returned to my room, a first aid kit was on my bed, and while I disinfected my cut alone, I wished Fitz were there to do it for me.
“Look at you,” I muse as I hold my cold hands to the vent, willing the heat to kick in more quickly. “Being all charming and chivalrous even though you have no hope of winning Clover’s heart,” I say to lighten the mood. I glance sideways at him to see his reaction, to get some sort of clue as to where his head’s at.
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” he says flatly.
Well. That’s the opposite of helpful.
We ride in silence for a few minutes. The streets are deserted, all the shops and restaurants closed for the holiday. Only the train station is bustling with life, but the road is too far from the depot for me to spot Jay’s family.
“Can you tell me more about Magic 8?” Fitz asks, his hand flexing around the steering wheel.
“I’m bad at making choices. This makes them for me.”
“So, coming here was a choice you didn’t want to make?”
“Coming here was a choice I didn’t know how to make.”
He glances at me sideways, and I think he wants to say more, but we spot Clover’s Prius pushed to the side of the road. Fitz cuts across the empty road and pulls to a stop in front of it. Clover and Jay both hop out as Fitz pulls out a car jack and carries it to them. He and Jay crouch to pull the old tire off while Clover sprints to the truck and takes Fitz’s vacant seat.
“Heat!” She peels off her gloves and lets her fingers thaw in the warm air.
“I can’t believe you’re here! How long are you staying?” I ask.
“Jay’s family is staying overnight in the hotel next to the railroad station, but my parents wouldn’t agree to that, so Jay and I are driving back home tonight.”
“What? That’s, like, seven hours of driving in one day.”
“I know. I feel terrible, but it’s the only way my parents would let me come. And Jay’s family is driving home first thing in the morning, so it’s okay. Besides,” she muses, “I’m not going to complain about seven hours of alone time with Jay.” A dreamy smile crosses her lips before she turns to me and says, “So. Fitz hasn’t read the letter?”
“Nope.”
“How are you feeling about everything?”
“Seeing him first thing in the morning, all rumpled hair and cooking breakfast for his family …” I groan at the memory. Fitz is so attractive it hurts.
“You have to tell him.”
“I almost kissed him last night.” I cover my face with my hands as my cheeks flush.
“Tell me everything. Now.”
I tell her the story and when I’m done, she looks horrified. “Why didn’t you kiss him?”
“Because I’m in love with him.”
“Seems like all the more reason to, you know, smash your faces together.”
“Lovely. But I can’t. We had a moment because he’s a hopeless romantic and there was snow and twinkle lights and I slipped and he got to dramatically save me like we were in our own personal movie. He was in love with the moment, and I’m in love with him.” I bite my lip so I don’t cry. If my life has taught me anything, it’s that I always screw things up. One way or another, I’ll definitely mess up this thing with Fitz, and I might as well get used to it now.
Clover wrinkles her nose. “I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit.”
“Maybe not.”
“I’m confused. If you’re in love with this boy, why are you so scared of getting close to him?”
I lean my head back with a sigh. If only there was an easy answer to her question. “I think loving someone and trusting them might be two different things.”
The following silence is disrupted by my stomach growling.
“I have snacks in the car,” Clover says. “Pretty please be the one to get them so I can thaw out before going back to that icebox?”
I dash to Clover’s car, but don’t see any food. I check under the seats and in the center console and then stretch across it to open the glove compartment.
I unlatch it, and a small black ring box tumbles out.
My pulse thrums happily as we walk through Macy’s. If I thought Harrison nudging me with his elbow was exciting, that’s nothing compared to the feeling of his fingers threaded through mine. I expect him to drop them, but he doesn’t. He holds on like he means it until we reach the gold-and-glass doors at the front of the store. And then, because I don’t want him to do it first, I slip my hand out of his and shoulder the heavy door open. We spill from the brightly lit store into the glistening night. My mouth waters at the scent of candied nuts from a street vendor.
I shiver against the cold and bring my hands in front of my face, breathing into them. “Subway? Or walk?” I look down the street in the direction I think is Harrison’s apartment, trying to estimate how far we are from his building.
“Let’s walk,” he says. And even though it’s dark and cold and my feet are starting to hurt, I’m utterly delighted by his answer. He motions to the left (I was looking right) and we fall in rhythm next to each other.
“Who takes their kid to see Santa on Christmas Eve? What if the kid asks for something that’s not under the tree? Seems like a big gamble,” Harrison says. The back of his hand brushes against mine, sending sparks all the way up my arm.
“I don’t know. Santa seemed kind of magical to me. He could make it happen.”
“As in, the real Santa Claus?” He narrows his eyes.
I shrug and smile. “Maybe.” He doesn’t answer, but I don’t mind. I feel floaty and fizzy inside, light and happy. I want to stamp this moment in my brain. The whole city seems to sparkle. It’s the twinkle lights and the streetlamps, obviously, but it’s also the steam rising from the manhole covers, casting a backlit glow on the streets.