Page 45 of Scrooge

“Yours,” I add, nodding. I feel too good about that. Being her fiancé, being hers. And it only feels better when I watch her smile grow, her eyes brighten, that happiness aimed right at me.

“There. I put it up on the Tucker Toys Instagram and sent a photo to Laurent. You can thank me later,” Jillian says, smirking. I feel Haylee tense, and I frown.

“Jillian,” Haylee moans.

“What? You want the whole world to know, right? To see how in love you both are?” she presses, and I don’t like the vibe. She knows all about our situation, yet still looks at me like she wants to gut me.

“It’s fine. Right, darling?” Haylee asks me, not sounding like herself.

“It’s fine, Sunflower. Laurent will handle things,” I murmur to her, hoping she feels at ease, knowing the minute the media sees that image, which they will in approximately five minutes, that it will go viral.

“Great!” Her father claps his hands. “Let's get ready,” he says, and everyone nods and starts to move.

“Uh, ready?” I ask Haylee as the kids jump up and gather their coats, her mom rushes around, packing up the kitchen, and her father turns off the TV and grabs a few things.

“We need to find Deloris,” Haylee tells me, walking to the door and grabbing a scarf.

“Deloris? Bag of dicks Deloris?” I ask, confused.

“Yes,” Haylee says as Jillian walks back toward us and snorts a laugh, before putting coats on the kids.

“Do we have to…” her son whines.

“Yes. We haven’t seen her and it is Thanksgiving.” Jillian is short with her reply.

“But it is starting to snow!” he says, prompting us all to look out the windows. He is right; light flurries are now visible, and we all pause to take it in.

“The first snowfall of the season,” Haylee says, smiling as she looks outside in awe, and I smile at seeing her face light up this way. I wonder if I can take her to the French Alps and watch her smile at the window like that daily.

“It will be here when we get back,” her father says, he and Wendy now joining us at the door as we put on our coats.

“Haylee, you and Alex take the shelters,” he commands, and Haylee nods, ready to go. “Jillian, you and the kids come with us. We will look at the parks, the bakery, and the train station.”

Everyone nods like this is a familiar thing they do.

“We will meet back here in two hours. But keep your phones on,” Wendy says, grabbing a scarf and throwing it around her neck. And then we file out of the house like an army.

“Uh, what is going on?” I ask Haylee, the two of us walking down the front path to my car as her family veers off to the side to jump in a large station wagon that looks like it came directly from the nineties.

“Usually for Thanksgiving, we eat early and then go and volunteer at the nearby shelters or food banks for the afternoon. But no one has seen Deloris in weeks and we are all worried,” she explains as we get to my car.

“It’s snowing,” I say, seeing snowflakes now sitting on her hair. The dusty white speckles lightly coat her shoulders and the ground around us.

“It’s beautiful, right?” Her shoulders lift in a shrug and her grin grows.

You’re beautiful.

“You really love it, don’t you?” I say as I lift my hand and sweep my fingers gently over her flushed cheek, pushing her hair behind her ear, looking at the way the quickly melting white flakes sparkle against her dark hair and thick lashes.

“It’s the best,” she whispers, and I look down at her, the air around us cool, snow falling, the street quiet, making this whole day feel a lot more magical.

“You look good in the snow,” I tell her honestly. My eyes roam down her body and back up, seeing her thick, mismatched yellow and orange knitted scarf around her neck and in complete contrast to the pink winter coat she has on.

“I feel like a marshmallow,” she says, laughing at herself.

“A cute marshmallow,” I tell her, wondering if that off champagne her father served us poisoned my brain and turned it to mush because I am never this soft with anyone.

“Is this your car?” she asks, breaking our connection, and I take a breath and roll my shoulders, getting my head back into the game.

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