“Hey! Thought I’d catch you before you left.”
“Merry Christmas Eve,” I say, smiling despite myself. “What are you still doing out?”
“Oh, deadlines have been brutal with the holiday flyer. So, last-minute shopping. You know how it is.” She sets the bags down, shaking snow from her hair. “You closing early?”
“Yeah, was just about to lock up. Giving myself the night off.”
“Good for you.” She studies me for a second too long. “So what are your plans? Going to your mom’s?”
I shake my head. “Not this year.”
Her eyebrows lift, but she doesn’t push. “Oh. Okay. Well, if you want company, we’re doing a thing at my place. Nothing crazy. Wine, movies, ugly Christmas sweaters. You’re welcome to join.”
“That sounds really nice,” I say, and I mean it. “But I think I need a quiet night. Just me.”
Sloane crosses the space between us and pulls me into a hug. It’s warm and tight and exactly what I didn’t know I needed.
“Okay,” she says, stepping back. “But if you change your mind, text me. Door’s always open.”
“Thank you. Really.”
She picks up her bags, then pauses at the door. “And Izzy? I’m proud of you.”
My throat goes tight. “For what?”
“For choosing yourself for once. That’s huge.”
She studies me. “We can do bad movies and wine if you want. I can send Ethan away and just the two of us can hang out.”
“No, no. You’re practically a Murphy, and I think if you skipped, Bridget would never let you live down missing UNO.”
“Fair, she and June are brutal.” She studies me, a sad smile on her face. “Well, open invitation.”
She hugs me, then leaves. The quiet settles back in, heavier this time.
I grab my coat. Lock the register. I test the door twice, the click of the deadbolt echoing in the quiet air. When I turn around, my heart doesn’t stop. It just… stutters.
Jack is leaning against his G-Wagon a few yards away. He’s in his wool pea coat, hands shoved in his pockets, and an olive-green beanie tugged low to his ears. But he doesn’t move. He waits for me, and I don’t know if it’s been seconds or minutes. Time has always had a funny way of bending around Jack ever since he walked onto that stage in September.
“You’re supposed to be flying to a game.” My voice is thin in the cold.
“I’ll be there. But I needed to see you first.”
I throw my arms out to the side, my tote bag swinging wide, almost knocking me off balance. It doesn’t take much, I guess. “Here I am.”
“There you are…”
I shut my eyes at the awe in his words. I wish I could keep that, tuck it away, and listen to it over and again because it makes my heart hurt a little less.
We stare at each other from across the snowy street, thesound of the waves sloshing against the docks. The string of Christmas lights strung overhead from the lampposts glows warm as the last sliver of day drops to inky blue.
“Now what?” I ask. Small, silly words for a big question. I don’t just mean in this moment, but tomorrow, next month, three years from now.
Please, let there be more to this story.
“I wanted you to be around for what I’m going to do next.” He takes a slow, cautious step forward. “It’s important.”
“What’s that?”
