Page 64 of Josh’s Play

“Fifty-Nine. You need a pair of skates? We can hook you up. No charge.”

I laughed. “No. I’m here with Noah and his girlfriend.” I point to the ice. “Just waiting on them.”

We all watched as Diane lost her footing, Noah quickly wrapping an arm around her and pulling her to him. Once she steadied, he took her hand and led her for one more lap around the pond. The sun was setting, and the strings of lights that were positioned around the pond turned on as if the image and the moment hadn’t been picturesque enough.

“It’s a romantic setting,” Pete opined as we watched my friends talk and laugh.

“Romantic,” I muttered.

Just like everything else in Hampstead Valley, being at the Winter Festival reminded me of Josh. I pictured him there with his family. I looked around, like maybe we were even there at the same time, him with his friends or some guy he’d met online. Every time I thought about him, I really did try to think about getting over him.

But in that picture-postcard, stupidly perfect setting, all I could think about was being with him: about us out on that ice, laughing and talking and just having fun together. I couldn’t fool myself any longer. All the times I pulled out my phone imagining asking Josh to confirm one more time that we shouldn’t be together, all I really wanted was for him to agree that we could be.

I thought about my mom’s words, that the best relationships were those worth fighting for, and I thought about Diane’s as well. Maybe, just maybe, sometimes things, or people, did change.

I opened the text chain that I’d been avoiding for weeks.

“Do you guys work this every year?”

“The Festival? Yeah. This is the last day for it, but this setup will stay open for another few weeks, weather permitting. Lots of youth groups and school trips will take place on this ice before we pack these skates up for the season.”

My heart soared as I asked, “What time do you close tomorrow?”

Before I could think better of it, I’d sent a text: Ever been to the Winter Festival?

I kept the conversation with Josh to one- or two-word answers but got him to agree to meet me at the park the following evening.

Pete was there, and he turned the lights on around the pond as I sat on one of the benches to lace up. He’d set another pair of skates next to me.

“I really appreciate you doing this, Pete.” He was fiddling with the sound system settings until music spilled out of the speakers.

“And I expect you not to forget that when it comes time to send out invites to your box at your first championship game.”

“Pete!” I immediately stopped what I was doing to knock on the wooden bench with both hands.

“I know. I know.” He bent down to tap on the bench as well. “You’re welcome.” Pete showed me the breaker for the lights and the switch for the music before taking off.

With the Festival over, the park technically closed at sundown, but Pete assured me he’d let the park ranger know that I would be there.

I watched Pete walk away, and as he crested a small hill, a man walked past him.

I stood on my skates, wanting to run toward him but refraining. It was good to see him, bundled up in a wool coat, dapper as ever with a maroon-colored scarf and matching beanie. Gloves covered his hands, and as he got closer, I noticed they were leather. The blue denim of his jeans peaked out from below a coat that reached past his knees, his winter boots matching the charcoal gray of the jacket.

“He’s perfect,” I breathed, barely realizing that I'd said it out loud as he approached me, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I told you the Festival was over,” he led with as he took an exaggerated look around the deserted area. He could have said anything, and my broad smile would have been just the same.

“Hi,” I replied.

“Hey.” He smiled.

“You came.”

“I said I would. What are we doing here, Cam?” I thought about answering, but I was not quite ready to yet.

“Here. Put these on.”

Chapter Seventeen