I didn’t answer. I just watched as she walked away, her bright red scarf disappearing into the crowd.
The music from the square drifted down the street—soft, wistful. The kind of melody that made you want to believe in happy endings even when you knew better.
Drew finished helping the vendor and straightened up, rubbing his hands together for warmth. Then, as if he felt it, my gaze, the weight of it, he turned.
Our eyes met across the street.
It wasn’t long. Maybe a second. Maybe less. But it was enough to undo me.
There was surprise there, yes. But something else, too. Something quiet and cautious.
And for a heartbeat, it looked like he might cross the street.
I almost hoped he would.
But a group of kids dashed between us, trailing laughter and snow, and by the time the path cleared, he’d looked away. Someone from the festival called his name, and just like that, the moment was gone.
He turned toward The Rusty Stag, his shoulders hunched slightly against the cold.
I stood there long enough for my cider to cool too much as my fingers numbed around the paper cup.
Lydia’s words replayed in my head:What are you so afraid of?
I wanted to shout back that it wasn’t fear. It was realism. Practicality. Distance. That it wasn’t as simple as falling for someone who lived in another world.
But the truth sat there in my chest, uncomfortably honest.
It was fear.
Because falling for Drew meant admitting I didn’t know what came next.
And I wasn’t sure I was brave enough for that.
A gust of wind tugged at my scarf, and I turned away from the river, heading back toward the truck. The town square glowed behind me, laughter and bells echoing like a life I didn’t know how to step into.
When I reached the vehicle, Lydia was already waiting inside, the heater running, and her hands wrapped around her cocoa. She looked at me, one brow raised, and said nothing.
“Don’t,” I warned, sliding into the passenger seat.
“Wasn’t gonna,” she said lightly, pulling onto the road. “But if you keep staring out the window like that, I might start playing Christmas love songs just to see you squirm.”
I didn’t take the bait. I just watched the town lights blur through the windshield as we drove back along the river for more antiquing, and the snow fell in slow, steady whispers.
Lydia hummed quietly beside me, some old Christmas tune I didn’t recognize, and for once, I didn’t interrupt.
Because my thoughts were too full of Drew—his smile, his silence, and that almost-moment between us that felt like a spark in the cold.
And maybe that was the real problem.
We weren’t finished. Not by a long shot.
But for now, neither of us seemed brave enough to take the next step.
Chapter Sixteen
Drew
I told myself I wasn’t looking for her. That I’d just stepped outside to check the heaters for the festival crowd, that I wasn’t scanning the streets like a fool waiting for one particular woman to appear out of the snow.
