Page 22 of Mistletoe and Magic

Ivy snorted. “Well, whose life would it be? And if it isn’t yours, can I have Jace? That’s one fine hunk of man.”

“Keep your sticky fingers off my boyfriend,” laughed Felicity.

"Ohhh, boyfriend, is it?” teased Ivy. “I don’t know Felicity, maybe you feel like you're waiting for it to strike midnight because you fear what comes with the dawn." Ivy moved closer to peer at the cake's intricate details.

"Maybe." Felicity's hands fidgeted with the hem of her apron, her thoughts a whirlpool of what-ifs and maybes. "But dreams have to end sometime, don't they?"

"Only if you want them to," Ivy murmured, reaching out to gently nudge Felicity's chin up, meeting her gaze. "If it isn’t here in Christmas Valley, where do you think you were meant to be? And doing what? Oh god, wait, this isn’t your less than subtle way of saying you and Jace are thinking about leaving, is it?”

It was Felicity’s turn to snort. “Now where would we go? The lodge, my bakery—our lives are here.”

Ivy turned serious. “But do you ever wonder if this is where you're meant to be? I do, and I wonder what my story might be if I wasn’t here?"

Felicity considered her words, the idea settling in her like the first drops of rain before a storm—terrifying and yet, somehow, arelief. "Maybe we’re supposed to live the lives we’re offered. I’m not saying don’t change them if they don’t make us happy, but perhaps wishing them away without putting any real work into them isn’t the right choice."

"Exactly." Ivy smiled, her dark eyes warming. "And every good life, like your pastries, needs a dash of unexpected spice, doesn't it?"

"Like chili powder in a chocolate cake," Felicity mused, a genuine smile blossoming on her face, her spirit lighter. "Unexpected, but sometimes, exactly what was needed."

Felicity traced a finger along the worn leather of her journal, the corners frayed from the countless times she'd flipped through its pages. The soft scratch of pen against paper was usually a comfort, a familiar anchor in the storm of her thoughts, but tonight it felt different; each word a reminder of a life that seemed an ocean away. She paused, pen hovering above the page as a sudden longing gripped her—a yearning for the cacophony of city life, the aroma of freshly ground coffee from her favorite café, and the predictable chaos of a world she understood.

"Could it be as simple as closing my eyes?" she murmured to herself, envisioning the life she had left behind. "To just... wake up there, leaving all of this behind?"

The mere thought sent a pang through her heart, a tug-of-war between the comfort of the known and the allure of the love she had found here with Jace. As if conjured by her inner turmoil, she heard his laughter from outside, carried on the cool night breeze that slipped through the slightly ajar window. It mingled with the distant sounds of the village that both soothed and saddened her.

"Jace," she whispered, her lips curling around his name, tasting the bittersweet tang of a romance that was as unexpected as it was intense.

She stood and moved to the window, pressing her palm against the cool glass, her gaze seeking out his form in the moonlit square. He was there, hands animated as he shared a story with some townsfolk, his presence a beacon of warmth in the crisp night air. The sight of him, so vibrant and full of life, made her chest tighten with emotions she hadn't even begun to unravel.

"Would I trade all the chapters of all my unfinished novels that have yet to be written or the life I left behind for just one more moment here? If this is a dream, do I even want to wake up?" Felicity pondered, her breath fogging the glass in front of her.

"Talking to yourself now, are we?" Jace's voice came from behind her, startling her into turning around. He leaned casually against the doorframe, a playful twinkle in his eyes that never failed to draw her in.

"Sometimes it's the only way to get a sensible conversation around here," she retorted, her attempt at levity falling short as she looked away, unable to hold his gaze.

"Is everything all right?" Concern laced his words, and he took a step closer, bridging the gap between them with a gentle ease that threatened to crumble her resolve.

"I'm just..." Felicity started, the truth clamoring for release. "I'm torn, Jace."

"Between what?" His hand reached out, fingers brushing hers with a tenderness that made her shiver.

"Between the life I always planned for and... this. You. Everything here." She met his eyes, finding not judgment, but a depth of understanding that beckoned her to lean into his strength.

"Love isn't meant to be easy, Felicity. It's messy and complicated and...” His voice broke off as he searched her face, his hand now cupping her cheek. "It's also the most incredible thing we can experience. And I want to experience it with you, if you'll have me."

Her breath hitched, caught in the gravity of his words, the weight of her own desires. Felicity knew the choice wasn't just about geography; it was about where her heart felt most at home.

"Jace, I...” But the rest of her words were swallowed by the space between them, a chasm filled with might-have-beens and could-bes, a future unwritten but tantalizingly within reach.

The following day, Felicity strolled through the quaint village square, the cobblestones cool and reassuring beneath her feet. A gentle breeze tousled her curls, carrying with it the mingling scents of fresh, crisp air and the warm, buttery aroma from her bakery. As she passed by the various businesses and street vendors that were set up around the village square, her heart danced to the rhythm of the bustling life around her—laughter, chatter, and the clinking of porcelain from the corner café. The cafe was so different from the bustling bistro, where she had worked to pay her rent, she had left behind.

Her fingers played absently with the hem of her sweater, a familiar motion that accompanied the whirlwind of thoughts swirling within her. The fear that had once gripped her, the stark realization that she was an anachronism in a world so unlike her own, had faded into a quiet acceptance. It was startling, this admission that she had not sought a way back, had not scouredancient texts at the library or begged the town's eccentrics for arcane knowledge.

As if on cue, the clock tower loomed ahead, its aged face presiding over the square like a sage watching over its charges. The chimes sounded the hour, their resonant tones reaching out to every corner of the village. Felicity's gaze lifted to the clock, watching as the hands moved with purposeful grace, but the glass that protected its visage was fogged and speckled with the vestiges of time, obscuring the clarity of the hours marked behind it.

Felicity moved towards the wrought-iron fence, her fingers dancing along the top as it bordered the square, her thoughts as tangled as the ivy that clung to it. The clock’s aged face still haunted her with its murky glass and obscured hands. Compelled by a sudden need for clarity, she approached Ivy, who was tending to a cluster of vibrant poinsettias near the base of the tower.

The intricate metalwork was lost in the haze, the numbers a mere suggestion behind the clouded barrier. In that moment, Felicity saw a reflection of her own journey, the uncertainty that had once clouded her vision now giving way to a piercing desire to see, to understand where the hands of fate were guiding her.

---