Page 43 of The Fall Out

I, on the other hand, was frozen once again. Because this man had cued up the movie I wanted to watch without a reminder or any prompting.

“What?” he asked, pausing with the sandwich in midair once again.

“Nothing.” I swiped the Easy Out off the coffee table, took a sip, and passed it over to him. “I just love movie night.”

The place was litup with thousands of white lights. And there were almost that many people bustling past me. Small huts had been set up throughout the market, and every fifty yards or so, there were comfy couches and fire pits where patrons could rest or snuggle up with one another. I was trying not to be impressed, but some of the ice sculptures that littered the place made that hard. My sister would love this.

I snapped a couple of pictures and texted them to her.

Gianna: Someone left their room.

I let out a grunt.

Me: Wow Chris, that’s so cool. Thanks for sending me pictures.

Gianna: No way you expected me to say that.

Not really. People accused me of being the grouchy one untilthey met her.

But she was an artist, so although she didn’t act impressed, I could almost guarantee that next week, she’d send me a painting of the harbor in all its Christmas market glory. It was her way of saying thanks without the words.

My breath floated in white plumes in front of me as I turned away from an incredible frozen rendering of Rudolph and took in the view of the harbor. It was frigid out here, but the stars were out, glittering in the sky and reflecting on the water, even if they were muted by the city lights.

I’d worn my glasses and had added a beanie to ensure that I didn’t have to deal with fans yelling out “Dragon” all night long. That man, the Revs pitcher, was larger than life in Boston, and it sometimes got exhausting having to play the part.

So far today, I had spent a few hours at the stadium for off-season conditioning and had met with Hannah for my mandatory press training, which had thankfully been scaled back to once a week. My cheeks hurt after all the happy faces she forced me to hold while she asked me about my still sucky slider. It was slow going, but I was getting better at being chill. And right now, I felt totally relaxed, even though I wasn’t home. That was almost unheard of.

Small town in the big city. That was the way I’d describe my night. This was Boston’s biggest Christmas market, so why was I here? Because Avery had asked me to meet her here. That was all it took to get me to leave my apartment. The promise of seeing her tempted me in a way nothing else could. I’d told her I’d pick her up at the zoo, but she’d brushed me off, saying it was unnecessary and that she wanted to walk the block and a half. So here I stood, as close as I could to the zoo while still being in the Christmas market.

I turned away from the harbor and scanned the crowd, catching on a blond ponytail in the sea of people. Resting my elbows on the wrought-iron railing that separated the brick pavers from the harbor, I watched Avery weave her way to me.

When she locked eyes with me, she broke into a smile that warmed me from the inside out.

“Hey, Blondie.” Going for unaffected, I gave the curl of her ponytail a small tug.

She stepped up close and patted my chest. “You beat me.”

Of course I did. I’d been here for twenty minutes. No way would I make her wait on me. Avery deserved better than standing in the cold, waiting for some guy to show up for her. One of the many things I wanted her to understand implicitly was that a guy worth her time would be the one doing the waiting.

“So.” I pushed off the railing and rubbed my gloved hands together. “Where are we going?”

“I’m starving. Let’s get vegan grilled cheese from Roxy’s and a cup of Chowda’s clam chowder to dip them in.” She scanned the vendors, her blue eyes bright, and pointed out two food trucks across the market.

I could tease her about the ridiculousness of orderingvegangrilled cheese withseafoodsoup, but I’d learned not to question Avery’s food choices.

Internally, I was cringing at the idea of eating food made in the back of a vehicle that drove around the city, escaping health department inspections. But I pushed those thoughts aside. I’d been working to overcome my irrational fears, and this was one of them. So instead of complaining, I let her drag me through both lines. I even managed to swallow my objections when she paid for the spiked hot chocolate for us since I’d paid for the meal.

We found an empty table not too far from one of the many fireplaces peppered throughout the market, and once we were settled, I rested an elbow on the whiskey barrel table and watched her.

“Yum.” Avery smiled around a bite of sandwich she’d dunked into the soup. “This is the best.” She dipped it again, her eyes sparkling like the insane amount of twinkle lights overhead. “Eat quick,” she said, pointing at my wrapped sandwich, “before it gets cold.”

It was barely twenty degrees. Of course it would get cold. If we were sane, we’d be eating inside. Yet here we were. Instead of the vegan grilled cheese Avery raved about, I’d gone for the Southerner, a pulled pork sandwich with pickles. I had to admit that, questionable food safety procedure aside, it was good.

“You have to try this.” She dunked the thick bread into the creamy clam chowder and held it out to me.

It had taken months, but I’d gotten used to Avery and her affinity for sharing food. But when it came to the clam chowder and grilled cheese, an entire host of doubts and concerns jumbled in my mind.

She angled over the table, holding the sandwich out, the puff ball on her blue hat bobbing. As she got closer, I was hit with her sweet scent. As always, that was all it took for my doubt to fade away. So as she held the sandwich closer, I took a quick bite. As I did, my bottom lip brushed against her thumb, sending a tingling sensation through me. I couldn’t describe what that damn sandwich tasted like, because all I could think about was her soft skin against my mouth. The feel of her against me. The taste of her on my lips.

---