“Or go all out and get them a new chainsaw. But only if you really like ’em,” I say.
When her father raises a toast to “unexpected unions,” she meets my eyes across the table, and I catch the faintest shimmer of gratitude there. Not for saving the conversation — just for staying beside her through it.
Later, when we step out into the night, she exhales like she’s been holding her breath for hours. “You handled them better than I ever have.”
“They just needed to know what kind of man married their daughter.”
She bumps my shoulder lightly, smile tugging at her lips. “And what kind is that?”
“The kind who’ll keep showing up,” I say simply.
Her smile softens. “I think I’m starting to believe you.”
Snow drifts between the towers, catching in her hair. The city feels less sharp all of a sudden — like maybe it’s got room for two more hearts after all. She looks up at me through the falling snow, her breath catching on a laugh.
“You’re going to ruin my blowout.”
“Worth it,” I say.
And for one wild second, it feels like we’re the only two people in this city full of strangers.
Chapter 7
Olivia
The morning after dinner, I wake to the sound of traffic below. James is already up, standing by the window with a cup of coffee like he’s on lookout duty.
“How long have you been awake?” I ask, voice still rough with sleep.
He shrugs one shoulder. “City doesn’t sleep, figured I shouldn’t either.”
I groan and pull the blanket over my head. “You’re impossible.”
“I’ve been called worse,” he says, amused.
When I finally crawl out of bed, he’s studying the skyline like it’s a puzzle. “How do all those people fit in one building?” he asks.
“Elevators,” I mumble, brushing my hair. “And patience.”
He glances at me, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m short on one of those.”
“Patience?”
“Elevators.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Come on, cowboy. You survived dinner with my family. The rest of the city should be easy.”
He gives me a look that says he doesn’t believe me for a second. We spend the day doing the sort of things tourists love and locals avoid. He buys roasted chestnuts from a street cart and tries to engage in a lengthy conversation with the vendor. James believes everyone should give each other time — listen to each other.
Later, he stops dead in front of the Rockefeller tree, tilting his head back to take it all in. “That thing’s got more lights than the entire town of Cady Springs,” he says.
“Probably does,” I admit.
He points to the ice rink below. “You ever skate?”
“Not since high school.”
He grins. “Then I reckon we’re overdue.”
