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“I think I’m getting the hang of this, again.” Nick offers me a shy smile as we complete another circuit without him falling.
“You are,” I agree, then I turn to skate backwards, taking both of his hands and showing off a little to “Rockin’ around the Christmas Tree”.
Nick laughs when I skate ahead to end the song with a flourish. It’s been ages since I met anyone who brought out this side of me. I whirl in a tight spin that leaves me a little dizzy at how good it feels to show off for a guy. And maybe a little because I forgot to spot the spin. I should try to get on the ice more often again. Our eyes meet and Nick’s face lights up with delight as he claps. My breath catches at his open admiration as he skates painstakingly over to me, holding out his hand for me to take again.
“Bravo, babe. You’re fantastic out here.” His praise warms me to my toes as I clasp his hand and we skate close again.
Nick makes me feel playful and uninhibited. There’s nothing to prove with the ending to this fake fling already written, so I can just be myself with him.
Nick grins over at me with a challenge in his eyes when “All I want for Christmas is You” plays over the loudspeakers. Bolder now, he skates a bit faster as he lip syncs the saccharine sweet words at me. As if he’s really my boyfriend and I can really have this. Well, we’ve agreed that we can both have the perfect holiday season romance together, so I’m going to stop reminding myself it’s fake and embrace every wonderful moment.
It’s a perfect night and I feel like I’ve been transported to a place outside of time as we glide around the Christmas tree. Holiday music and the scents of fresh ice, pine, and cocoa fill the air. The twinkling lights lend everything a soft romantic glow. Through it all, Nick doesn’t drop my hand. He holds on tight until the rink is closing and we have to turn in our skates.
As we’re walking hand-in-hand back through the closed market, we pause again under the mistletoe. Nick’s lips mold to mine like we’ve been doing this for far longer than one night. He kisses me with the ease of someone who’s spent the past few hours with our bodies moving in sync on the ice. The perfect give and take of lips and tongue.
When we pull apart, Nick has a soft smile on his face. He brushes his finger along my jaw, tender as can be.
“That’s the most fun I’ve had in ages, Carl. I can’t wait to see what other romantic holiday ideas you’ve got up your sleeves.”
“There’s plenty more where that came from,” I assure him. And I can’t wait either. Thinking of how he faux-serenaded me on the ice, I have the perfect idea for our next fake date.
“Hey, so, this might not be super romantic, but our office usually gets together to go caroling to all the clients who sign up for it. And this is the first year since we started the tradition that Tina missed out. We stopped by her place, but that’s not the same. What do you say I bring over my guitar and the three of us can have a night of caroling at her place?”
“Mom would love that. And so would I. It’s a date.”
Nick slings his arm around my shoulders and we resume walking through the warren of market booths. He walks me all the way to my car and kisses my cheek before we say goodnight. I drive home already eagerly counting down to the next time I get to see him.
Chapter 6
Nick—December 19th
Mom’splaceisalreadyneat as a pin, but I’m wandering around fluffing the couch cushions as I wait for Carl to come over. We’ve had to keep the floors spotless for Mom to get around with the walker the doctor wants her using while she recovers.
“Have you got ants in your pants, Nicholas? Sit and watch the movie.” Mom gestures at me with her crochet hook. I can’t sit still though. Everything has to look perfect and inviting for my date. The holiday romance on the screen can’t hold my attention, but I sit obediently.
I have no illusions about myself. If Carl was the heroine of this movie, I’d be cast as the neglectful banker boyfriend from the big city. The villain everyone is supposed to root for her to dump in favor of the small-town Christmas tree farmer who sweeps her off her feet with holiday magic. Okay, the pronouns are confusing me with the analogy, but the point stands. If this was a movie, Carl would end up with someone like his ex, Saint.
I might not have it in me to be that attentive perfect boyfriend long-term, but I sure as heck can pretend for both our sakes. If it means sharing more mistletoe kisses and holding Carl’s hand as we stroll past displays of twinkling lights, I’ll pull out all the stops to make this week perfect. I want to drink down every drop of holiday cheer.
The doorbell rings, and I leap to my feet.
“I’ll get it!” I call, dashing for the door like an anxious teenager with a crush.
“I know you will, dear.” Mom cackles at me from her seat in the armchair amongst her crafting supplies.
She can somehow watch the Christmas movie without dropping a stitch on the tiny yarn outfits for more of her custom felted gnome tree ornaments. There’s a pile of partially completed holiday crafts next to her on the coffee table. It’s uncanny how she can turn scraps of yarn and the odds and ends from her bigger projects into art. Her customers seem to agree, judging from the non-stop business at her market stall.
I brush aside comparisons between how nice it is to interact with the public compared to the cold and calculating managerial work I do behind the scenes these days. Managing a team of creatives and fitting together all the pieces of the puzzle that go into getting their work in front of the right eyes is a far cry from the photography and digital design skills that got my foot in the door. It’s a nice break to be in a customer facing role, however temporary it may be.
I take a moment to compose myself, running a hand through my hair and straightening out my warm flannel shirt before opening the door for Carl.
He’s holding a guitar case in one hand and wearing the same bright blue parka from the night we met that brings out his gorgeous eyes. He grins and lifts the guitar. “Ready for some holiday music?”
“Can’t wait,” I nod and wave him inside. Carl stomps the snow from his boots before entering.
“Brr, think we might get some more snow before the big day.” He shrugs out of his jacket and I take it to hang on a hook above the radiator so it will be warm when he has to leave later. “Thanks, Nick.”
“No problem. Seems like we’ll have a snowy Christmas, regardless. I can’t remember the last time we had more than mucky sludge downtown.” That isn’t strictly true. My tiny balcony usually has a little patch of pristine snow, but it hardly counts. Not like the lovely blanket of untouched nature covering Mom’s front yard.
