Page 49 of The Christmas Box

“Mmm hmm.”

“Ready to give this up yet or do you want to keep trying?”

As she considers the question, I realize maybe it’s more weighted than I intended, that a person could take a double-meaning from it if they chose.

“Both?” she answers. “It’s fun doing this with you, but…I’m not very good at it.”

“You’re fine at it,” I tell her, not quite sure what we’re talking about anymore. Ice-skating or walking that fine line between casual attraction and something stronger. “But maybe we should get our boots back on and go warm up, huh?”

After a moment of suspecting I see the same questions dancing in those blue eyes, she nibbles her lower lip and answers, “That would probably be wise.”

December 17

Lexi

Ispend all day working in the shop, but part of me remains back on that pond yesterday, balancing on the thin blades of ice skates that felt like walking a tightrope of sorts. All around me, the shop is buzzing, people are putting wishes in the box and ringing out their purchases with Dara, and all my favorite Christmas tunes fill the air—but I’m stuck in that moment when learning to skate felt more like learning to navigate a tricky relationship.

It’s only when the afternoon rush dies down and Dara and I are left alone, her behind the counter and me wiping down the coffee bar, that she asks, “What’s with you today? You seem like you’re somewhere else. Are you still caught up in granting Christmas wishes or…is it something more?”

“He almost kissed me.”

Her jaw drops. “What?”

“We were ice-skating and we fell down together and he almost kissed me. But then he stopped. And I somehow felt…childish. Like…for him a kiss would just be a kiss, but he knew that for me it would be more, and so he didn’t. And it’s probably for the best anyway.” I end by trying to head-shake it away as nothing, almost sorry I said anything.

Her eyes widen with doubt, though. “Is it? For the best?”

I nod. “He’s going back to Chicago sooner or later—probably sooner.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she tells me then.

I lower my chin, giving her a look. “It’s stupid to protect my heart?”

“No, it’s stupid to squander an opportunity to be with someone you’re connecting with, all over the fear of how it might end. I mean, who knows what the future holds? None of us.”

“Well, you’re forgetting something here. He’s the one who didn’t kiss me. He’s the one who decided to squander an opportunity. And maybe I’m wrong about why. But whatever his reason, he didn’t do it. Maybe…he’s just not attracted to me in that way.”

“He sent you pie.”

“Huh?” I squint.

“He sent you pie. I still say it’s like sending a woman a drink at a bar. It’s a silent invitation for more. It’s announcing, ‘Hey, I’m into you.’”

“Or maybe it was just pie.”

“Want my advice?” she asks.

I flash widened eyes her way. “Even if I don’t, I’m pretty sure you’re gonna give it to me.”

“I think you just play this out. I mean, you obviously like his company and he obviously likes yours or he wouldn’t be out doing all this wish fulfillment with you. So enjoy having him around and see where it goes. And maybe…well, maybe the next time you fall into his arms,youkisshim.”

At this, I make a face. “I’m not really the kiss-instigating type. I’ve always been shy about that—I prefer the guy to make the first move.”

“Well, maybe he’s got a lot on his mind. Maybe if a pretty girl kissed him, he’d realize she’s incredible and it would changeeverything.”

“And if itdidn’tmake him realize that?”

She shrugs. “You get a hopefully toe-curling kiss out of it. A delicious memory. And then life goes on. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

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