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I shake my head. “Evie, we don’t use phones out here. I live off the grid.”
“Right, off the grid. I get that. But I mean, you have electricity and running water and a beautiful place. I was just thinking you must have some sort of cell phone plan?”
“It’s all solar powered. There’s a generator too. But a cell phone? Can’t help you there.”
“Fuck. Sorry. It’s just, like, people are going to think I’m lost in the woods or something.” She’s looking at her phone with no signal, obviously stressed out.
“Hey listen, we can radio the state patrol, have them call your sister and let her know you’re okay.”
Relief floods Evie’s face and I’m glad I found a plan that works to her liking.
“Thank God. I just don’t want anyone to worry this time of year.”
I radio into the state patrol, and Evie rattles off her sister’s phone number, giving explicit directions in what to say in the message.
“Ma’am, we will do our best to let her know you are safe.” The sheriff’s voice is as deadpanned as mine.
“Thank you. Thank you so much,” Evie says. She hands me back the radio and I turn it off, distracted with watching her shimmy back to the table where she’s cutting paper.
“You have big plans tomorrow?” I can’t help but ask.
“Not really,” she says absently, her legs tucked beneath her as if she’s right at home. “Just, a party tonight and brunch tomorrow, and then Christmas Eve dinner with my family. I’m probably forgetting something, but yeah, anyways nothing huge going on besides making the wreaths. That was the reason why I was in the woods in the first place. To get cedar branches.”
“That sounds damn busy,” I reply, “in my opinion.” I open the bottle of the Fireball and pour a few shots into two tumblers. Walking back to the table, I set one before Evie and take a seat.
“Oh, I like to stay busy. Otherwise, I get restless. Bored.” Evie shrugs. She picks up her glass and clinks the rim on mine. “And now, we must toast. I must offer my most sincere thanks, to you, Everett, my knight in shining armor. My Savior. My Christmas miracle. Thank you for finding me. I owe you my life.”
I laugh, not knowing if she’s serious. With my mouth parting in a grin, her eyes twinkle, her own smile widens.
“What?” I ask.
“It’s just... when you smile.” She blushes, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know when you smile it just looks really nice. I know it sounds cheesy, but it literally lights up the room.”
“Literally, huh?”
“Don’t give me a hard time. I just mean... it’s nice.”
Our eyes meet, and I must say the way she is so willing to give me compliments feels good all the way down my bones. Words come easily to her, and I can imagine her writing a blog post about tonight.
There would be a lot of exclamation points. But genuine delight in the unexpected also.
“I didn’t save your life,” I tell her, taking a drink. She sips her whiskey daintily, before setting it down and picking up the scissors and paper. As if she’s most comfortable with her hands holding something.
“You did.” Snip. Snip. Snip.
“Well, I was in the right place at the right time.”
“You believe that?” She asks, her eyes concentrating on the paper in her hand. “Destiny…. fate… magic? All that stuff?”
“Doesn’t much matter.”
“Maybe not,” she says wistfully. “It would be nice if it was real. Wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t have to be magic for things to turn out well.”
“So maybe this is serendipity. A happy turn of events.”
“Exactly.”
“Do you want to make that?” she asks.
“Serendipity?”
“No,” she says laughing. “You can’t force serendipity. But you can make magic. See.” She pulls her hands apart, an edge of the paper in either one.
She didn’t make a snowflake this time. She made a snow globe. And in the center, are a man and a woman and a Christmas tree.
In the center is us.
“Serendipity and magic might be one in the same,” I tell her before leaning over and kissing her.Chapter FiveThe kiss catches me off guard. I swear half the time I’ve been here; I’ve thought Everett has been annoyed with me. But then he looks at me with those clear blue eyes with so much intention it unnerves me; sears me. In a good way, the way the whiskey burns.
It hurts and then warms you up, all the way to your core.
That is what’s happening right now with this kiss.
My lips sink into his, and the scraps of paper on the table flutter to the floor as he cups my face in his hands.
I can’t even think of the last time I’ve been kissed like this.
It certainly wasn’t while I’ve been hanging out on the ridiculous Tinder app the last few weeks. Nor when I’ve met random guys at a bar. And not when my sister’s husband set me up with his business associate.
