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Jonas took her hand and walked over to the tree, not stretching to hold it over the narrow point at the top.
“Yes indeed,” Gil said. “Smile down at her.”
Jonas already was. Bridget smiled back, until Mara’s voice broke into their Moment of connection.
“Awww,” the model said sarcastically. “Doesn’t she look radiant?”
Harry looked up from his viewfinder. “Mara, we don’t need your comments.”
Even though the photographer only wanted to keep the peace, Bridget was grateful to him. The stylist tactfully distracted the model by waving a dress on a hanger. Mara took the bait and headed for the dressing area.
“You’re young and in love,” Gil crooned. “This is your first Christmas. Tra la la.”
Jonas smiled down at her more warmly still, as if he’d forgotten that he was holding up a paper star. As artificial as the pose was, there was very real emotion in his eyes. She knew he remembered their real first Christmas—she certainly did. Gil hadn’t meant to be tactless and the art director had no way of knowing how special that long-ago holiday had been.
Jonas had given her a beautiful antique pin he’d saved up to buy and something much more meaningful than that: her first kiss. If only that memory would fade away forever … Even with so many people around, Bridget felt tears rise in her eyes and prayed she wouldn’t cry.
“Beautiful. Your eyes are really shining, Bridget,” Harry said.
Jonas let go of the star and touched a hand to Bridget’s cheek. She was going to cry. She had to look away. He did too when the star fluttered down but he caught it before it landed on the floor.
His eyes were suspiciously bright and he covered his emotions by humming a few notes. “Catch a falling star—what’s that old song?”
“You’re supposed to save it for a rainy day,” she whispered.
“I will,” he whispered back.
Gil was barking orders again. The assistants scurried around. “Okay, it’s Bridget’s turn to hold the star in place,” Gil said. “I’m happy with this concept. Harry, are you happy?”
The photographer only grunted.
“Jonas …” Gil looked at him expectantly and he handed over the star to Bridget.
She began to pose per the instructions she was given. Stand this way. That way. Look at Jonas. Look at the tree. Bridget had never realized how heavy a paper star could be if you had to hold it against a wall for almost an hour. Her arm ached. But what they were doing gave her an excuse to be close to him.
She heard the doorknob rattle and remembered that she’d locked the door to the shop.
“Mo-om!”
Molly was on the other side of the glass.
“Can I put this down?” Bridget asked, talking through her teeth.
Gil looked around. “Is that your daughter?”
“Yes, that’s Molly.”
“Harry, are you done with this set-up?”
“I’m done. Bridget, Jonas, at ease.” Harry brought his camera over to Gil to scroll through the photos in the memory as Bridget went to the door. Making a comical face, Molly smushed her nose against the glass and splayed out her hands. Bridget had to laugh.
She let Molly in and waved to her mother, who was in the car at the curb, on her way to meet a friend in town as planned. Bridget hadn’t known that Jonas was going to show up, but she was glad she didn’t have to explain that to her mother.
Molly had a garment bag draped over one arm, dragging on the floor, “I brought my velvet dress and some other things,” she explained.
Bridget took the bag. “Great. Let’s show them to the stylist and see what she thinks.”
“Okay.” Molly studied her mother’s face. “You look pretty, Mommy. Who did your makeup?”
