His shoulders lowered a fraction, just enough for her to know how much he appreciated the out.
“Then yeah,” he said, nodding once. “A walk sounds good.”
They detoured toward the side street, weaving past glowing shop windows and vendors handing out gingerbread and cider. Cassidy snagged two steaming cups of hot cider from a stand, offering one to Liam with a smile.
“It’s not as good as my cocoa, obviously,” she said, “but it’ll do in a pinch.”
Liam grinned and took the cup, their fingers brushing just briefly. Cassidy felt the spark move up her arm and straight to her heart, warming her quicker than any cider or cocoa ever could.
They fell into step, the noise and color of the square slowly fading behind them as they turned onto the winding path that curved around Bear Lake. Solar lanterns lit the way, casting a halo of light that reflected the icy snowflakes that drifted gently down.
“I meant what I said back there,” she said after a quiet minute. “You don’t have to force a smile for me. I can tell this time of year’s hard for you, even if I don’t know why.”
Liam was quiet for a beat, watching his boots leave tracks in the snow. “Thanks. I’m trying. It’s just… some years are easier than others.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything. I just didn’t want to drag you into a sleigh photo shoot with fake reindeer and a glitter-sprinkled Santa if your heart wasn’t in it.”
He smiled. “Honestly, the glitter might’ve been my breaking point.”
She burst out laughing and they walked a few more steps in companionable silence, the snow crunching under their boots, steam curling from their cider.
“How’s the shop going?” he asked. “It looks busy from my side of the street.”
She tilted her head side to side. “It’s good—I love it. But yeah, it’s been a lot. I’m pretty much running on empty at this point.”
“Sounds familiar,” he said. “The shop. The farm. The llama sanctuary we’re setting up. The paperwork. There’s just not enough hours in the day.”
They shared a look—exhausted but proud.
“Is it weird that I love it?” she asked. “Even when I’m so tired I accidentally put chili powder in the cocoa?”
Liam raised a brow. “Was it at least good?”
“I liked it, but it was definitely spicy,” she said, eyes twinkling. “Not recommended for kids.”
He laughed again, and Cassidy noticed he looked more like himself out here, away from the lights and music and well-meaning but intrusive questions.
“What made you want to open the farm shop?” she asked. “I mean, you’ve got the whole farm already. What made you want to add to it?”
Liam took a sip of cider, thinking. “I knew Jackson would come back to the farm and both of us wouldn’t be needed, and I guess I wanted to create something of my own that felt… lasting. Not just selling our produce, and my own crafts, at market but building something that belonged to the town.”
She nodded, not pushing.
“What about you?” he asked. “Paris to Maple Falls is kind of a leap.”
Cassidy smiled, looking out over the lake, where the light reflected off the ice. “It is. But I needed a change. And I missed my grand-maman. She raised me in a town just like this, and it felt like she was calling me home. She passed away two years ago, and she made the most incredible spiced cocoa—it’s her recipe I’m using now.”
“She sounds like she was special.”
“She was. She wore red lipstick every day and told everyone chocolate was the cure for most of life’s problems. She believed in magic. Not in the wand-waving way, but in small things. The kind of magic you find in shared traditions. Like cocoa. Or decorating sugar cookies. Or standing out in the snow with someone who makes your heart feel weird and fluttery.”
Liam’s eyes darkened just slightly, and she quickly added, “Not that I mean you do that—I mean, I’m just saying in general?—”
He stopped walking.
She nearly bumped into him, her cheeks flushing.
“I know what you meant,” he said, voice low.
