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"You know, having to work the Christmas market sucks a little," I confess as the music starts back up again. "It means we can't have a cute Christmas market date." We could have trudged over the market, hand in hand, shared a bunch of snacks and basked in the holiday vibes.

"Kieran?"

"Huh?" I shake my head in an attempt to return to reality.

She stares at me, red cheeks, snowflakes caught in her hair. "This is a cute Christmas market date."

"Agree to disagree." I put my hands around the mug again to warm them. "A cute Christmas market date would include Crêpes with Nutella, a lot more mulled wine, three bags of shit we bought that we'll never need in our lives, and, you guessed it, more mulled wine. And maybe another waffle."

The music stops, and I get ready for the next group.

"Give me five minutes," Brooke decides. She rises onto her tiptoes, pulls down my Santa beard, and presses a kiss to my cheek. "I'll be right back."

"I'll be here."

Chapter 38

Brooke

“Hot, hot, hot.”

I switch the paper plate from one hand to the other as I make my way back to Kieran, armed with an arsenal of fried and baked goods from all over the Christmas market. Because if my man wants a Christmas market date with lots of food, he shall get it.

The sun has set, and already the entire Main Square Park is dipped in the orange glow of fairy lights and street lanterns. The soft Christmas music from Kieran's carousel echoes all the way over here, beckoning me closer as I weave my way through the crowd.

"I'm back," I announce once I reach the little table he set up for his register. "And I come bearing Nutella Crêpes." I set them down. "Sweet dumplings. Waffles. Cookies."

And finally, I pull two paper bags out of my giant winter coat pockets. "And baguettes filled with more raclette cheese than our arteries will be thrilled about."

"You are so speaking my language." Kieran turns away from the crowd, pulls the beard off his face, and gives me a quick kiss.

He's keeping a secret from me, this sneaky Santa-beard-wearing idiot.

I don't know what it is or if I want to find out, but he’s being secretive about today. Usually, he would have told me all kinds of details about what kind of errands he was running. But he's tight-lipped.

Nic and Henry don’t need me as a third to watch the dogs as they get hugged. Thank God. Those two are adorable in their matching reindeer costumes today, but I don’t fancy being the odd one out. The girls know Henry and vice versa, so I’m comfortable leaving them with him. And Nic all but shooed me away this morning when I brought Sophia and Rose over for the first shift at the hugging booth.

I adore his friend group. As someone who's used to sticking to her family or best friend, I was apprehensive about a new friend circle, but all of them have been so welcoming.

Maybe because most of them, like Kieran, only moved here recently.

"Let's start with the cheesy stuff," Kieran declares and picks up one of the paper bags. The gooey cheese has cooled slightly and gotten thicker, but still, the baguettes are so full, it threatens to fall out. “Damn, Brooke, this is the stuff dreams are made of.” His eyes positively light up when takes the first one out.

“I don’t want to brag, but Kinstead does have the best Christmas market food,” I brag and take a bite of mine.

We eat our way through all the snacks I brought. We joke around, watch kids ride the carousel, and their parents photographing them as they pass by. Most of them return right back to the end of the queue to do it all over again.

They’re making core memories. It’s nice to be a part of it.

"So," I ask as I pick up one of the Christmas cookies, "what do you think of this Christmas market date?"

"You know what?” I expect unfiltered joy, but what I find on his face is… peace. An unexpected softness and a more profound kind of happiness. “It's the best date I've ever been on."

I lean my head against his shoulder, and we watch the carousel turn.

Before I know it, the night gets colder and the crowd dissipates slowly. The queue becomes shorter, and the booth owners begin to pack their stuff.

"I think it's time to call it," Kieran finally decides and closes up the register. He motions at the guy sitting in the little booth who’s operating the carousel. "One more, and then we're done, Jefferson."