Page 47 of The Holiday Games

“I usually hate having my picture taken,” I say, as she shows me the shot. “But we look pretty good together.”

“We’re cute,” she says nudging my knee with hers. “Am I clear to send it to Kayla later? I’m sure she’d appreciate a picture of this Leo guy I’ve been talking about.”

My lips curve. “You’ve been talking about me?”

“I have. And she had a few thoughts about the Vivian situation.”

“Do tell,” I say as the car nears the end of the line.

“Later,” she says. “I think it’s a subject best discussed over a rib eye with truffle butter reduction and a side of caramelized root vegetables and honeyed parsnip mash.”

My brows shoot up. “Where are we getting that? Because that sounds fucking amazing. I’ll make the order now and have it delivered to my place promptly at seven.”

She grins. “It’s already done. I ordered the groceries while you were paying for ramen. Everything I need to cook you my signature dish will be arriving at your place at seven fifteen.”

We step out of the cable car and move down the ramp leading onto the island. “You’re going to cook for me?”

“I am. I would do homemade pasta with fresh mushroom ragu, but that’s a much more time-intensive process.”

“I think I’m in love with you,” I joke, but it’s not a joke, and I’m pretty sure she knows it.

That she knows, and isn’t even a little bit scared…

“And you haven’t even heard about my buttery, flaky, brown-sugar coated Dutch Baby,” she says, taking my hand. “My Dutch Baby brings all the boys to the yard. And the girls. Kayla once offered to marry me if I’d give her the recipe, but I can’t. It’s a Frost family secret. That was my mom’s maiden name, before she married Dad.”

I shake my head. “Frost? Seriously? Could your family get any more holiday-themed?”

She rolls her eyes. “If I’d married a tree farmer with ‘Christmas’ for a middle name? Yes.”

I squeeze her fingers tighter. “Thank God you dodged that bullet.”

“Thank a Rockette, you mean,” she says with a grin. “I was actually thinking of going to see the show. I owe that woman one, and I do love a kick line.”

“I’ll get tickets for Thursday night,” I say.

She bites her lip. “Should we? Are we playing with fire spending this much time together off camera?”

“Maybe, but…I don’t care. You’re here. Now. And I don’t want to waste a second.”

“Me, either,” she says, leaning her head against my shoulder as the holiday lights flicker on above Roosevelt Island’s artsy Main Street.

And just like that, I’m happier than I’ve been in…

Well, maybe…ever.

All my rough edges suddenly feel smooth. The jagged puzzle pieces I’ve been trying to jam into place slide together with ease. It’s soeasyto fall in love with this woman. So euphorically, blissfully easy. She’s a drug I could get hooked on for life, and I already know I’m never going to want to come down.

We wander in and out of galleries and a store selling handmade wool sweaters before reaching Eden, the next stop on my tour. The flower shop is a true gem, packed to the gills with the freshest, most fragrant blossoms in the city. We spend a half hour sniffing roses, magnolias, and exotic orchids before buying an herbal tea at Eden’s in-house tea shop and heading back onto the street.

Outside, the winter sky is already dark, but the island is ablaze with gas lamps and holiday decorations that light our way as I guide Caroline past the ruins of the smallpox museum.

“A bonus tour stop,” I say, pausing beside the gate surrounding the structure. “They fenced it in a while back so you can’t climb around inside anymore, but I still love a ruin. I wish New York had more of them. Like Rome.”

“I’ve never been to Rome,” she says gazing wistfully up at the remains of the old hospital. “I’ve never been anywhere, really. Just Vermont and here for school and down the Cape a few times with Kayla before things got serious with her boyfriend, and he took my place in the spare bedroom. He proposed to her yesterday, by the way. She said yes.”

“Mazel tov to them both,” I say. “Assuming you approve of the match?”

“I do. They’re wonderful together. I think they’ll be very happy.” She shifts her gaze to mine, adding in a softer voice. “What do you say we cut this tour short and head back to your place? As much fun as this has been, I think I’d like to be somewhere warm and cozy with a purring cat in it.”

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