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This is one of her “not dates” for me to find the love of Christmas.
“Haven’t you ever heard that patience is a virtue?” She glances over her shoulder and my eyes fixate on her long blonde hair once again. Today it’s in waves.
“Not one I’m blessed with.”
It’s Friday night and the air is chillier than earlier in the week, so I’ve watched her nose and her cheeks turn pinker the longer we walk.
We take a right when we hit 6th Avenue, and soon after, Radio City Music Hall comes into view. I stop immediately.
It takes her a moment to notice, and when she does, she swivels around and frowns. “What’s wrong? Why did you stop?”
I nod toward the Radio City Music Hall sign. “Please tell me you’re not taking me to see the Rockettes.”
She crosses her arms and juts out her hips. I’m not sure why it’s sexy as hell when she’s annoyed with me. “Part of our deal is that you go into this with an open mind.”
“It’s hard to have an open mind when I know I’m going to have to watch a bunch of women in sparkly costumes kick their legs in unison to the beat of Christmas music for the next two hours.” I’d rather spend the two hours in a prison cell.
Her hand digs into her purse and she pulls out her phone. “Should I text Bethaney and tell her that I can no longer do the party?” She arches an eyebrow.
I blow out a breath and groan. “Couldn’t you have eased me into all this holiday crap? Like maybe we just look at that big tree everyone is so enamored with?”
Her mouth drops open and she walks over to me. “Iamstarting off easy. I’m not even asking you to participate. You literally just have to sit there and observe. And just so you know, the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree doesn’t get lit until after Thanksgiving.”
This sounds like a special sort of torture, but I did make a deal with her and I’m not someone who goes back on his word. Hence why I haven’t told her of her brother’s plans to pop the question to Zahra on Thanksgiving. I haven’t even told her I’ll be there because I know it will only make her question why when I’ve never been to their holidays before, and I don’t get the impression that Kenzie is someone who gives up easily when there’s something she wants to get to the bottom of. No, I gather she’s more like a bloodhound following the scent of a trail.
“I’m texting her now.” She poises her phone with her thumbs on the screen.
I reach over and lower it. Both our hands are half-frozen, but there’s no denying the warmth that travels up my arm from our point of contact. Except I do deny it, because this is Finn’s baby sister, and he doesn’t even know that we know each other.
“You win. I’ll smack on a smile, but no promises of really enjoying myself.” I point at her and she smiles.
“I’ll take it.”
I nod, and we continue walking and join the end of the line waiting to get into the iconic theater. In all the years I’ve lived in Manhattan, I’ve never attended anything here.
A giant Christmas tree on top of the marquee is lit up as though it’s a lighthouse that alien spacecraft can probably see from space.
When we finally make our way inside, I have to admit, I’m impressed by the art deco architecture and decor.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Kenzie’s gaze is skyward, and the wonder and awe on her face remind me of what a child’s might hold on Christmas when they first see the presents under the tree and believe Santa brought them.
“Definitely impressive.”
I look around our surroundings some more. A giant tree hangs from the ceiling and dangles down in the large lobby, draped in lights in such a way that it looks half like a chandelier and half like a Christmas tree. Lit wreaths line the walls, and the sporadically placed bars along the walls serve guests looking for a beverage.
“Do you want something to drink?” I ask Kenzie, who’s still soaking in the atmosphere.
She drags her gaze away from the ceiling and looks at me. “Sure.”
“Another eggnog monstrosity?”
She chuckles, and the sound reminds me of the wind chimes my gran used to have near her kitchen window. “Wine is fine. White please.” The challenging look on her face is a silent retort for the night we met, when I questioned her choice of wine.
“White it is. I’ll be right back.”
I push through the crowd. After waiting entirely too long to be served, I make my way back to Kenzie, who’s standing near the wall where I left her.
“Here you go.” I pass her the glass and she smiles, thanking me. “What made you decide on the Rockettes as your first attempt to win me over on the holidays?” I bring my wine to my lips and sip.
