Page 22 of Unwrapped

“This is amazing,” he says, glancing around with a boyish grin that makes my chest feel strangely light. He gestures toward the festive scene with a tilt of his head. “I’ve lived in Chicago my entire life, but I’ve never done this. Thanks for coming with me.”

I smile, catching a snowflake on my glove and brushing it away. “I can’t believe you’ve never been to the Christmas market.It’s one of the best parts of the season. It’s practically a Chicago institution.”

He gives a sheepish shrug, the grin never leaving his face. “Guess I’ve been too busy playing the part of the serious CEO. I don’t usually take the time for this kind of thing.”

“Well, you’ve been missing out,” I say, giving him a teasing nudge with my shoulder. “Maybe this is your chance to catch up.”

His gaze lingers on me for a beat longer than I expect, something warm and unguarded in his eyes. “Maybe it is.”

We wander deeper into the market, sipping hot chocolate from steaming mugs that warm our hands. The sweetness mingles with the coolness of the air, and I find myself relaxing more with every step. We pass by stalls selling handmade ornaments, knitted scarves, and brightly painted nutcrackers. A vendor calls out, offering samples of warm cider, and Asher accepts a cup, his smile widening as he takes a sip.

“This is actually really good,” he says, holding up the cup in a mock toast. “You weren’t kidding about the market. I’m starting to feel like I’ve been doing Christmas all wrong.”

I laugh, the sound mingling with the festive music playing from a nearby stall. “You probably have. But I’m here to help you fix that. And it starts with this—” I point to a stall overflowing with handmade ornaments and snow globes, each one glistening under the fairy lights. “You can’t visit the Christmas market without picking out an ornament.”

Asher raises an eyebrow, following my gaze to the display. “Is that a rule?”

“It’s practically law,” I say, trying to keep a straight face. “And trust me, you do not want to be on Santa’s naughty list for breaking it.”

“Hmm—I dunno, the naughty list can be pretty fun.” He inches a centimeter closer, his eyes dropping down to my lips.

“Are you trying to be a bad influence on me, Asher?” I raise my eyebrow. “I thought you were the good boy out of the two Mercers.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he steps up to the stall and picks up a small wooden snowflake, turning it over in his hands. The intricate carvings catch the light, casting delicate shadows. He holds it out toward me, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “What do you think? Does this meet your high standards for holiday cheer?”

I reach out, brushing my fingers against the smooth wood. “It’s beautiful,” I say honestly, glancing up at him. “You have good taste.”

He looks back at me, something almost teasing in his expression. “Was that a compliment? From Ivy Calloway?”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face. “Don’t get used to it.”

He laughs, slipping the ornament back onto the display with a deliberate slowness, as if savoring the moment. “I’ll try not to let it go to my head.”

We continue walking through the market, moving from stall to stall, the snow falling gently around us. The lights shimmer on the fresh snowflakes that land on Asher’s hair, and I feel a strange sense of calm settle over me—like maybe, for once, I don’t have to think so hard about every word I say or every glance I steal.

Asher stops at a stall selling hand-carved wooden toys, his gaze lingering on a miniature sleigh. “You know, Zane and I used to have a sleigh like this when we were kids. We’d race it down the hill behind our house until we nearly broke our necks.”

I laugh at the mental image. “I remember that hill. It was practically a death trap when it iced over.”

He grins, leaning a little closer as if sharing a secret. “Yeah, well, we thought we were invincible back then. Zane crashed thesleigh into a tree once and split the thing in half. My dad was furious, but we just thought it made us look cooler.”

I shake my head, smiling. “That sounds like you. Always pushing the limits, even when it made absolutely no sense.”

He shrugs, a self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “What can I say? Guess I haven’t changed much.”

I glance at him, and for a moment, I see past the confident exterior he wears so well—past the smile, the charm, the easy way he commands a room. There’s something softer there, something he doesn’t show many people, and it makes me want to know more. I tilt my head, giving him a playful look. “Well, I’d like to think you’ve matured a little since then. At least enough to know not to challenge a tree to a duel.”

Asher laughs, and the sound is warm and genuine, like a crackling fire on a cold night. “I promise, no more tree duels. I’ve learned my lesson.”

We move on to another stall, this one selling delicate glass ornaments. Asher picks up a tiny snow globe with a miniature Christmas village inside, the little houses dusted with fake snow. He gives it a gentle shake, watching the snow swirl around the scene inside.

“You know,” he says, turning the snow globe in his hands, “I never really understood the appeal of these things when I was younger. But now… there’s something kind of magical about them. Like a whole world in your hands.”

I smile softly, feeling a little pang of nostalgia. “I used to collect them. When I was a kid, I had a whole shelf full of snow globes from every place my family traveled. I liked the idea that I could capture a little piece of a place and keep it with me.”

He looks at me, something curious in his expression. “Do you still have them?”

I shake my head, a little wistful. “I lost most of them when my parents moved to a different neighborhood a few years ago. ButI’ve started a new collection. One snow globe every year, from somewhere special.”

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