Page 17 of Caffeinated in Amesbury
"Stories have a way of revealing what we value most," I reflected aloud, gaze drifting to Thomas. "Sometimes you don't realize what you're willing to give up until you're faced with the possibility of losing it."
"Or what you're willing to gain," Thomas added, meeting my gaze with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the jovial atmosphere and reach right into my core.
"Let's not forget the power of a good love story," another member quipped, sparking a round of knowing smiles and nods.
"Indeed," I murmured, thoughts swirling like the snow outside, each flake a memory, a possibility, a hint of something more.
The twinkling lights of Amesbury's main street had faded into the background as I found herself seated on a vintage wrought-iron bench in the town's park. My breath, visible in the crisp December air, mingled with the steam rising from my cup of peppermint hot cocoa, the aroma wrapping around me like a cherished memory.
"Look at you," came Thomas's voice, his playful tone carrying through the night. "All bundled up and still managing to look like you stepped out of a Fifth Avenue winter catalog."
I laughed, the sound mingling with the jingle of distant sleigh bells. "I guess some habits die hard."
"Especially the New York ones," he teased, taking a seat beside me and stretching his arms along the back of the bench, his posture relaxed and easy.
I took a sip, letting its warmth seep into my bones. As I watched my breath create little clouds that danced away into the night, I felt anchored in this moment—rooted deeper than I had felt in years. The children's laughter from earlier echoed in my mind, a stark contrast to the barrage of email notifications and meeting reminders that usually filled my thoughts.
"Thomas, do you ever think about what life would've been like if you'd left Amesbury?" I asked, turning to catch his reaction.
"Sometimes," he admitted, his eyes reflecting the fairy lights that adorned the nearby fir trees. "But then I realize I'm needed here. This town, the people... they're part of me." He turned to face me, his gaze earnest. "What about you? Do you ever wonder if the big city life is all it's cracked up to be?"
My heart skipped a beat at the question, one I had been wrestling with more and more since my arrival. "I thought I knew what I wanted," I confessed, setting my cocoa aside. I pulled my coat tighter around me, as though it could shield me from the uncertainty that crept up like the cold. "Success, recognition, the thrill of closing the next big deal... But being here, with these people who have so little yet give so much..." I trailed off, gazing at a handmade wreath hanging on a lamppost.
"Sounds like someone's rediscovering the joy of simplicity," Thomas observed with a gentle smile.
"Maybe I am," I whispered, surprised by the admission. It was as if saying the words out loud had broken a spell, revealing a world of possibilities I had long ignored. Could it be that my relentless pursuit of career success had cost me something more valuable?
Blair walked up on us like she had a tracking monitor. “Hey guys! What are you doing out there?”
Thomas got up and excused himself, letting Blair sit down.
The snowflakes danced like a flurry of tiny ballerinas around the street lamps' amber glow, each one seemingly choreographed to fall with a delicate grace that only a small town in December could orchestrate. "Okay, spill," Blair said, nudging me with an elbow that was as playful as the twinkle in her eye.
I chuckled at Blair's uncanny ability to read me like the open pages of a well-loved book. "It's just... Have you ever felt like your life was written in a language you no longer understand?" I asked, gaze fixed on a nativity scene set in a storefront, the wooden figures bathed in soft light.
"Is this about Thomas or the big city life?" Blair queried, her eyes narrowing with concern and curiosity.
"Both, I guess," I confessed, kicking a loose pebble along the sidewalk. It skittered across the frozen pavement, coming to rest by a frosted holly bush. "I've been climbing this ladder in New York, you know? And now, here, with Thomas..." My voice trailed off as she searched for words that seemed as elusive as the perfect ending to a novel.
"Sweetie, if you're looking for the 'right' answer, there isn't one. This isn't a multiple-choice test; it's more like an essay question. One that you write yourself," Blair said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, sharing a warmth that defied the chill in the air.
"An essay question without a word limit, huh?" I mused, allowing a smile to crease myr face—a smile that hadn't felt so genuine in a long time. "But what if I choose wrong?"
"Then you'll write a heck of a revision!" Blair laughed heartily, the sound mingling with the distant jingle of sleigh bells.
We stopped outside Caffeinated Bliss, where the windows steamed up from the heat inside, promising respite from the cold. Through the foggy glass, we could see Thomas clearing a table, his movements efficient but unhurried, a silent poetry in his simplicity.
"Look at him, Felicity. Does being around him feel like home?" Blair's voice was softer now, almost reverent.
"It does, and that's terrifying," I admitted, blue eyes reflecting the twinkling lights that adorned the café's eaves.
"Isn't it supposed to be? If it matters, it's going to scare you. That's part of the holiday magic—or any magic, really," Blair teased, winking as she pushed open the door to the café, letting the scent of cinnamon and coffee embrace them.
"Magic, huh?" I pondered aloud, stepping into the warmth. "Maybe it's time I believe in a little bit of that."
"Or a lot," Blair quipped, leading us toward a table near the fireplace, the crackling flames seemingly applauding our arrival. "Now, let's talk strategy. How are we going to woo Mr. Tall, Dark, and Literary over there?"
"Blair!" I gasped, mortified and amused in equal measure, but secretly relieved for the levity my friend always brought to life's most daunting chapters.
