A wooden sign on a nearby table explains that it’s a Remembrance Tree.A basket is filled with blank discs hanging from golden strings, along with black markers. There’s a note taped to the front of the table that says:Write a message for someone you miss this season and hang it in honor of them.
My throat tightens.
“Do you want to add one?” he asks quietly.
I nod, swallowing hard. My gloves come off, and I dig out the perfect disc. The wood is smooth and cool against my palm. For a moment, I stand frozen, the marker hovering as I gather my thoughts.
For Nan. Thank you for being my constant and loving me like it was the easiest thing in the world. Your love was so magical, I still feel it.
I blink rapidly, willing away the sting in my eyes. When I hang the disc on a lower branch, it sways gently, catching the light. “She’d love this place.”
He steps closer. “I bet she’d like you being here and picking out the tree.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, smiling despite the ache in my chest. “I think she would. I know she’d be glad I was helping Pops.” I put my gloves on as we head for the exit. Outside, the air feels colder than before, stinging my face.
“They should have the tree loaded in the truck by now,” Jordan says.
I nod, pulling my scarf up over the bottom of my face and tucking my gloved hands into my coat pockets. On the walk back to his truck, it’s silent but not awkward. I’m lost in my own thoughts, going over everything that happened. The high point was our moment under the mistletoe—damn, that was something. I’ve never been so affected by a kiss. I felt it all the way down to my toes, and now there’s no going back to what we were before.
“You’re quiet,” he mentions without looking over.
“I’m thinking.”
“About what?”
“How everything can change in one night.”
He glances my way, the corner of his mouth curving. “You think it changed?”
My eyebrows rise on my forehead. “Don’t you?”
He brushes a flake of snow from my cheek with his gloved hand. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I think it did.”
Oh my God.
When we reach the truck, the freshly cut and wrapped tree’s already in the bed, and there’s a layer of snow accumulating on top. Jordan opens my door and waits until I’m seated before closing me inside. As he walks around to the driver’s side, I take a deep breath to settle myself down. I may not know what’s going to happen with us, but for the first time in years, the unknown doesn’t scare me. For a handful of seconds under the mistletoe, it felt like the start of something incredible.
Jordan climbs into the driver’s side and starts the truck. He shivers and pushes a couple of buttons on the dashboard. Heated seats are a lifesaver. “They should get warm pretty fast.”
“Good. I like my buns toasted,” I joke.
He laughs. “I’m getting old. I like how it makes my back feel better.”
The heater hums as we pull out of the lot, and my cheeks start to tingle as they thaw. For a while, neither of us says anything, which gives me time to process everything that happened. I’m still replaying our kiss in my mind when he clears his throat.
“So, I think we qualify as professional tree pickers now.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Professional?”
“Yeah. We braved the storm, found the perfect tree, and didn’t lose a single digit to frostbite. Sounds professional to me.”
I shake my head. “I’m pretty sure professional tree pickers don’t spend half an hour debating between Blind Date With a Tree and Perfectly Imperfect.”
“That was all you,” he says, shooting me a quick grin. “I’m decisive.”
I blow out a puff of air. “Decisive? I’ve seen you take ten minutes to choose an appetizer.”
“That’s different. Appetizers can make or break the whole dining experience.”
