Page 62 of Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty

“You’ve really never been to a Christmas fair before?” Lily slowly walks beside me as we take in the fragrant beauty of the Christmas festival that’s now in full swing.

Twinkling lights dance overhead like stars, the cold nips at my fingers and freezes my lungs, and the scent of cinnamon is almost overwhelming. But I love it. This is my future.

Two days ago, my mother came to town and demanded I return to the city with her. She provided an ultimatum to my face, and I made my choice. Not the choice she expected, but it was my choice.

I chose to stay.

I watch Emma as she runs away from us and stops next to a stall selling Christmas-themed gingerbread men coated in colorful icing. The woman behind the stall flashes Emma a wide smile, and they start discussing which one she would like to purchase with the dollars clutched in her small hand. Lily’s attention ison her daughter, watching her like a hawk even though we’re among trusted people.

“Never,” I reply. “Or at least, not one like this. Fairs in the city are much more extravagant, but nothing like this. This is just… I have no words.”

Snow falls gently onto an already white-coated town. The street is filled to the brim with wooden stalls and tents, all heaving with Christmas-themed items. From wooden figurines hand-carved by the local hunter to a stall covered in miniature snow globes that are so adorable, I almost want to purchase them all. They would look fantastic in my office. There’s one stall selling homemade candles and scent sticks, one selling imported food from around the world, one selling knitted sweaters and woolly hats, and even one that has several hand-painted sleds on display.

There wouldn’t be creativity like this back in the city. It really feels like the entire town has come together to showcase all their best pieces for the tourists who have come here for the perfect Christmas break, and for anyone else who needs a reminder of how great this little town is.

It’s the most at home I have ever felt.

“You don’t have a stall?” I ask as we lazily walk toward Emma.

“I do.” Lily nods. “It’s near the town square, but because there’s a special edition of the Nativity tonight, I have my best friend running it so I can watch Emma. I’ve seen her perform three times already, but I want to see them all.”

“Adorable,” I say. I want to see it too. And then afterward, Lily and I need to talk. I’m firm in my choice to stay here, and ideally, I’d like that to include Lily and Emma if she will let me, but westill have a lot to talk about. I want to explain how naive I was when I returned to my family all those years ago and how I was certain we could maintain a long-distance relationship, but I had become so utterly swamped that time escaped me.

Then I was living a planned out life and Lily was just a dream.

But I want to change that. I want Lily to know exactly how I feel and in turn, I want her to share how she feels with me, too. But those words are hard, especially when it feels like saying anything will ruin this fantastic bubble we’ve found ourselves in.

“Look!” Emma laughs as she returns to us with a gingerbread clutched in her hand. “It looks like Amelia!”

Lily and I study the drooping icing face, which has so few features that it’s a wonder it resembles anyone. Emma can clearly see something we miss.

“Yes.” Lily chuckles uncertainly. “It really does. You will have to keep it and show it to her.”

“Nah,” Emma says, and she takes a large bite out of the head.

Lily laughs, and I slip my hand into hers. When she grips mine back, my heart soars and I feel untouchable. Even the cold that surrounds us feels kept at bay by the warmth radiating from my heart. We pass a few more stalls as we walk toward the town square where the final Nativity performance will be held. I spot Margret, who looks pointedly at my joined hand with Lily’s and smiles.

I smile back. She will never know how integral she was in giving me the push toward reaching out to Lily. I never would have dared if I hadn’t been forced into that corner of possibly losing my job. Now, I feel like I’ve truly earned my place.

People we pass call us a cute couple, and Emma runs into a few school friends who are just as excited about the show. Watching parents chat with Lily about school things, one question continues to worm in the back of my mind.

Mark isn’t Emma’s father, so who is? Why has Lily never mentioned him? Is he completely out of the picture? As I listen to Lily chat with other parents, I scan the crowds around us and every man I see becomes a possibility. I don’t doubt Lily’s secrecy, but if we are to pursue this, I want to know.

I adore her and Emma. I just need to know when her dad is going to sweep back into the picture.

Once we part with the parents, we run into Lily’s parents who are hosting a stall and giving out mechanical advice and hot drinks for free. We all get hot chocolate, and Lily’s mother gives me a very detailed rundown on what happens to car engines when the temperature gets below minus-thirty.

I tell myself I understand her but as we part ways, everything she said fades from my memory. I don’t think I will ever understand cars.

The next stall we stop at is selling calendars and diaries. They’re all adorable, and as Emma picks out one with Lily’s supervision, I get my first talk about taking care of Lily.

It’s the first of many as the night wears on. She’s a well-loved figure in this town and there are several people all happy to tell me to make her happy, take care of her, or I’ll answer to them. By the time we reach the homemade chili stall, it feels like half the town will hunt me down if I break her heart.

Luckily, I didn’t know these people seven years ago. My response to each of them is the same. I have no desire to ever hurt Lily.

As Lily and Emma delve into small bowls of chili, I break away from the tables and head deeper into the market seeking out something I spotted on our walk over. Finding the stall, I make two purchases and hurry back to the meal area just as they finish their meal.

“Where were you?” Lily asks, licking her spoon. “Were you not hungry?”

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