Page 52 of Nicky

I almost lost it right there, the playful defiance in his eyes pushing every button I had. But I couldn’t let him know just how much he affected me, not here, not with everyone watching, even though the words were right there on the tip of my tongue, begging to come out.

I smiled, forcing my hands into my pockets to keep from touching him, my thumb brushing the smoothness of my phone as if it could ground me. “Keep it up, Nicky, and you’re going to make me rethink the rule about needing to be a nice boy to stay on my good side.”

He raised an eyebrow, tilting his chin up, his voice dropping in that teasing way that made my pulse spike. “I’m already nice, Daddy. I’ve just got a little attitude.”

I chuckled, despite myself. He was too much sometimes, too damn irresistible.

A sudden burst of laughter from the crowd caught my attention, and we both turned, our conversation falling away as the film began—A Charlie Brown Christmas,the crowd’s vote overIt’s a Wonderful Life, and honestly, I wasn’t surprised. But I was glad. The simplicity of it, the reminder of what really mattered—it fit the mood of the evening perfectly.

I glanced back at Nicholas, my heart still racing from that exchange. Despite all the teasing, all the bratty words, there was something in his gaze and everything that had led us to thismoment that confirmed what I knew to be true: this was us. The boy, the Daddy.

I didn’t need to say another word. I just let my eyes linger on him for a beat longer, my gaze softening with everything I didn’t have to say out loud. Because, somehow, he knew.

We settled into a pair of seats near the back, close enough to feel part of the group but tucked into the shadows just enough to have a semblance of privacy. Our hands brushed as we reached for the blanket at the same time, the simple contact sending a jolt of warmth through me. I could feel the curve of his smirk without even looking.

Beneath the cover of the blanket, his fingers slid into mine, tentative at first, as though testing the waters. My chest tightened, a deep ache blooming at the gesture’s simplicity, its intimacy. I tightened my grip, threading our fingers together fully, anchoring us both in that quiet connection.

His thumb brushed against mine—a soft, fleeting stroke that was so small and yet made my pulse thrum in response. My body reacted instinctively, warmth spreading through me, settling deep in my chest. He shifted beside me, leaning ever so slightly into my side, his presence an unspoken reassurance.

This was ours—a private moment tucked away in a public space. And for once, I didn’t feel the need to hide how much it mattered.

The movie played on, but the real magic was happening all around us. Mrs. Thompson leaned over to whisper something to Carl, and they both turned to look at us with matching grins. Nicholas caught it and groaned softly, hiding his face in his hands.

Carl’s voice wasn’t remotely subtle. “Ah, young love. Reminds me of me and my Henry back in the day.”

Nicholas peeked out between his fingers, his cheeks pink. “They’re not going to let this go, are they?”

“Not a chance,” I murmured.

Terri passed by, smirking. “You two could try not looking at each other like you’ve got hearts in your eyes.”

Nicholas groaned again but didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned closer, our shoulders touching, the blanket draped over both of us.

When the movie ended and the credits rolled, conversation bubbled up among the residents as they began reminiscing about Christmases past.

Mrs. Thompson shared memories of stringing popcorn garlands with her grandkids. Carl recounted the time he and his Henry got snowed in with nothing but a fruitcake and a deck of cards. The stories were bittersweet, filled with the kind of warmth that only came with a life well-lived.

Paul, Carl’s new roommate who rarely spoke, cleared his throat. “I remember Christmas ’69,” he began, his voice gruff but steady. “We were in Nam, scared out of our minds, but one of the guys managed to sneak in a tin of cookies from his mama. We passed it around, one cookie each, and sang ‘Silent Night’ so quiet you could barely hear it over the jungle. But for those few minutes, it felt like home.”

Paul’s voice lingered in the air, and for a moment, there was a solemn, collective silence. It wasn’t heavy or sad—it was reverent, like the kind of quiet that settled over a room when something deeply personal and beautiful was shared.

Mrs. Thompson finally broke it, her voice warm and a little watery. “Well, Paul, I’d say you’ve outdone us all tonight.”

Carl chuckled, slapping Paul lightly on the back. “Agreed. That’s one for the books.”

Moments like this reminded me why I loved this town, this place, these people.

Mr. Gaines asked about Beverly. “She’s come out of the coma and she’s recovering slowly,” I told him. “The doctors said she’ll need to stay in the hospital a while longer, though.”

The group erupted in cheers, a collective whoop of joy that made me smile. Mrs. Thompson clapped her hands together. “Oh, that woman. She’ll be back to her old self in no time, bossing us all around. You’ll see—next year, she’ll be running the show.”

Nicholas smiled. “She’s got a lot of fight in her,” he said quietly.

As the last of the residents and staff drifted inside, the fairy lights above seemed to twinkle just a bit brighter against the crisp night sky. Nicholas and I stayed behind, the stillness wrapping around us like the blanket we shared.

“Stay a little longer?” I didn’t mean for it to sound like a question, but it came out that way anyway.

He nodded, settling back into his seat. “I could get used to this.”

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