Page 40 of A Holly Jolly Mix Up
One Year Later
Oakridge Hollow is dressed in white and silver, twinkled like a snow globe under the bare branches loaded with frost. Christmas lights adorn every tree, lamppost, and shop front, casting warm hues over the icy landscape. I push my hands deeper into my coat pockets as I tread the familiar path to the Timeless Tales bookstore.
I hum along with the Christmas song playing, my breath trailing in smoky tendrils behind me. Tonight is going to be a big one—the biggest of them all, if all goes according to plan.
The smell of old books hit me as I step into the bookstore. My mind begins to whirl with thoughts of her reaction later tonight. Would she see it coming? Would she like it?
I glance nervously at my watch, calculating the minutes till her arrival. The seconds seem to stretch into hours as I mentally review my plan again for the hundredth time.
I hear the front bell jingle, and my heart leaps into my throat. I watch her walk in, wrapped up in a big red coat with matching gloves, her smile brighter than all the Christmas lights combined.
“Hi, Andrew!” she greets as she walks over, peeling off layers until she’s sitting across from me, looking like every wish of mine just came true.
“Hey,” I manage to say back. Just one word, but it’s a start. I take a deep breath. “Cozy evening, isn’t it?” I ask, gesturing toward the snowflakes pirouetting down outside. “Just like a scene from a Christmas storybook.”
Jane chuckles, her laugh like music to my ears. “Is that why we’re here? To read Christmas stories together?”
Her striking green eyes sparkle with anticipation and maybe a hint of suspicion. She’s too sharp for me to keep secrets, but if all goes well tonight, I won’t have to anymore.
“In a way,” I reply, suppressing a smirk. “But with a twist.”
“Oh, I do love twists…” she muses as she leans back into the chair, her focus shifting from me to the surrounding books with an excited glint in her eyes.
I reach out and take her hand, my fingers wrapping around hers like they were meant to fit there all along. “Ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she replies, her voice full of intrigue.
“I need you to close your eyes,” I instruct, my voice barely more than a whisper.
Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but she complies, closing those beautiful green orbs. I rise from my seat and guide her through the labyrinth of bookshelves to a secluded corner.
“Okay,” I say softly, “open them.”
She gasps, her hand flying up to cover her mouth as she takes in the sight before her.
There’s a giant Christmas tree, lights twinkling merrily and ornaments swaying slightly. A cozy little nook set up right next to it with a roaring fire and a small loveseat.
A twinkle of mischief dances in my eyes as I pick up an intricately bound book from the chair. “Come sit.”
She sits down next to me, leaning toward me as she brushes her fingertips against the old leather binding reverently.
“It feels so authentic,” she murmurs, lifting her gaze to meet mine, “but I don’t recognize it. What’s it called?”
“I call it ‘Our Timeless Tale.’” I try to keep the excitement from bubbling over as I open the book gently.
The first page is adorned with a picture—a sketch of the rental home where we first met in Silver Valley.
Her breath hitches as she turns the page revealing the next sketch—a sketch of us in Timeless Tales for our reunion.
“Andrew, is this...” her voice trails off as she leads through more sketched pages, each one a memory and a moment in our shared history.
Our first date at the annual Christmas tree lighting. Our first kiss in her parents kitchen, covered in flour.
She’s silent as she flips through the rest of the pages. Her hand in mine, and her eyes glistening with unshed tears. I can see her reliving every memory, her lips quirking up in a small smile as she recognizes our moments together.
As she nears the end, she hesitates before turning to the final page. It’s blank. She looks at me confused.
I take a deep breath, releasing it slowly. This is it. I reach into my pocket and pull out a small velvet box. The sharp intake of her breath echoes in the quiet bookstore.
