Page 37 of A Taste of Christmas Magic

“What did you want to show me?” Chloe asked after they’d walked about fifty yards down the Riverwalk away from the restaurant and farther from downtown.

“I just needed to get out of there and wanted to talk to you,” he admitted.

She sipped her drink and turned around to face the moody lighting but festive atmosphere of The Wild Side. Her smile was radiant.

“I love your holiday mix,” she said softly. “And the tree sculpture is amorphous enough that you could leave it up all year on the back wall—maybe add more to it—a mural or more to the sculpture, like kudzu or grasses.”

She pulled his jacket closer and breathed in deeply.

“I always loved the way you smelled.”

“In the animal kingdom we’d be mates.” He pushed his luck recklessly.

What was wrong with him? Was he a lemming running solo off a cliff?

“Weareanimals,” she said softly. “People just pretend they aren’t. Look, Rustin.” She tapped his forearm, and without thinking he closed his hand over hers.

She turned him back toward the restaurant.

“It’s beautiful rising up in the night. The lines. The light. The way it nestles above the bank of the river. It’s a beacon.”

“Feels like.”

She laced her fingers with his. “I had fun tonight. I didn’t think I would. I thought I’d be nervous, fumbling. But it was like I finally found my rhythm. Not like I am Grandma Millie herding the good people of Belmont into good deeds, but looking at the recipes, finding ones I liked, strategizing the steps to cook everything with you this past week, and learning how to scale and delegate—again you,” she bumped against his shoulder, “it gave me a confidence I didn’t expect to feel, and that’s you too.”

“Maybe it’s you…cutting loose from your family a little. Striking out a bit more on your own.”

She stared at the water.

“I never left Belmont, but I never felt like I was missing anything. I mean, I traveled—I studied abroad in Paris, summer conservatory programs in London and Rome for voice, and a couple of trips with Grandma Millie—but I never left Belmont, as in maybe not coming back. All of my cousins did. They went away to school. Lived other places. Worked. Jessica moved to Cramer Mountain this year and has been working hard to restore the Cramer gardens. Sarah’s finished up her residency and fellowship and work commitments and she’s joining a pediatrics practice in town. I think Meghan’s thinking about joining a firm in town instead of traveling so much for IP law.”

He didn’t want to talk about her family and their accomplishments.

“You’re not thinking of moving are you?” His stomach lurched uncomfortably, even as he knew he should welcome Chloe leaving—less distraction for him. He could get back to normal.

“No,” she said. “I love teaching at South Point High School.”

Everything in him soured. “I hated high school.” He’d not felt like a kid or a student. He’d put most of his energy into making money to help put food and more on the table. And he hated not doing well at anything.

“Not a single good memory?” she asked softly, leaning her head against his upper arm.

If he turned his head, he could kiss one of her springy curls.

Don’t do it. Disaster!

“You fought so hard,” she said. “You were so fierce and focused. A man when you should have been allowed to be a child. But the struggle, the resilience, the determination to get up again and again each day to fight, to slay, honed you into the man you are, so I’m not sorry, although I wish you had some good memories.”

Her voice, her understanding and kindness was like an ointment soothed over a burn. Bandaged.

“I do,” he said. “I felt confident and necessary at Millie’s. She put me to work. Taught me discipline. Organization. My life had been chaos. She taught me order and the value of working, being prepared and being part of a team. And you brought the light.”

“Me?” Chloe blinked up at him, looking so beautiful he nearly slipped his leash and kissed her.

Just one taste?

“You were always bouncing, full of questions, smiles, observations, random songs, and quotes and ideas. Unfiltered and uncaring what people thought of you.”

“I cared,” she groaned.

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