Page 63 of The Holiday Honeymoon Switch
“Merry Christmas, Aiden.”
He kisses her again, and eventually, she has to pull back and catch her breath. “You’re kissing me like it might be the last time.”
“It might be the last time for a few hours—Sidra’s holiday-parade hoagies are amazing, but pretty soon we’re both going to have fish breath.”
Holly laughs and gives him another long kiss. “Aiden Coleman, I’d kiss you even with fish breath.”
Alexa has poked her head through the kitchen doorway. “You two slowpokes coming? The first float is in view.”
Outside, Holly and Aiden take their seats in a pair of camping chairs. Once Holly is settled, Aiden covers her knees and his own with a plaid flannel blanket, and Sidra hands them each a plate.
“It smells incredible. What exactly is this?”
“You can’t go into this with any preconceived notions in your mind,” Aiden says.
“Okay, so I’ve had the sweet French roll before. Fish with the crispiest breading I’ve ever had—and it’s been marinated in something amazing—”
“A secret blend Sidra’s dad passed down that she says she’s never telling anyone, not even Alexa—”
“Is that Thousand Island dressing?”
“Close!” Sidra calls out, leaning forward from down the row of chairs. “Another secret recipe.LikeThousand Island, yes, but with a smoky, spicy kick. I learned to make it from my dadu. You’ll never have anything else like it.”
“There’s something else.” She takes another bite. “It reminds me of sandwiches from my childhood. Is it…” She closes her eyes. “Melted American cheese?”
Sidra smiles. “You guessed it! I’ve tried other fancier cheeses, but nothing works quite as well. My aunt and uncle had a sandwich shop in Philly, and even they could never find a better cheese topping for this sandwich than that.”
At that moment, a hush falls over the street, and church bells begin to ring all through town.
“It’s starting!” Grandma Hazel says excitedly. All at once, the streetlights are extinguished, and everyone falls quiet, waiting expectantly in the soft glow of dusk.
In the distance, Holly can see what looks like a crowd of bobbing stars coming toward them. As the stars grow closer, she realizes the lights are coming from paper cutouts held aloft on long staffs carried by children. The walking choir begins to sing “Song for a Winter’s Night” in their earnest little voices, and Holly finds herself clasping her hands to her heart as they walk solemnly by. One little star carrier turns and, adorably, waves and shouts “Hi, Mom!” to a woman standing on the sidewalk—but most of the other children keep their faces turned forward as they walk through the town singing the old Gordon Lightfoot standard, their voices ringing out in the crisp night air as real stars begin to light up above them in the sky.
Just as the children’s voices rise to their highest, singing about how happy they would be to hold the hand they love on a winter’s night, Holly turns her head and locks eyes with Aiden. He seems to be watching her rather than the parade, too. “I’m glad you like it,” he whispers.
“I love it. Every second.” She turns her attention back to the street as a marching band playing a rousing rendition of “Jingle Bells” starts to approach, drowning out the children’schoir. Many of the townspeople clap and dance as the music picks up—including Aiden’s grandparents. Hazel laughs delightedly as her husband spins her.
The parade floats follow the marching band, on flatbeds pulled by pickup trucks. The surfaces of all the vehicles are strung with lights and decorations. Many of them feature vignettes reenacting various scenes from famous Christmas stories, including a Nativity scene, a Rudolph float, an Island of Misfit Toys–themed float sponsored by the antique shop, and a Dickensian Christmas-themed float sponsored by the town’s bookshop. The townspeople on the floats ring sleigh bells and call out greetings, or throw candy or festive colored beads.
Aiden has moved his camping chair closer to her, and their bodies are now touching—shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm. The warmth of touching him moves all the way through Holly’s body.
Holly finds herselfoohingandaahingover a gaggle of donkeys wearing reindeer antlers, led past by a local farmer who Aiden says houses rescue donkeys at a picturesque acreage not too far from the eco-cabin. Then a huge float sponsored by the local dance school sails by, crowded with little sugarplum fairies and tin soldiers, dancing shyly as their parents cheer them on and crowd onto the street to take photos and videos of their adorable offspring.
Once the last float, a life-sized gingerbread house created as a collaboration between Seventh Heaven and anotherlocal bakery, has disappeared into the gloaming, an expectant hush falls over the town again.
“Oh, this is the best part,” Grandma Hazel calls out as, in the distance, a white horse appears. The horse prances toward the townspeople, snorting clouds of snow-white air, sleigh bells jingling from an elaborate bridle and saddle. The stallion’s rider is costumed majestically in a red-and-gold cape, a wooly white beard, and a red crown with a golden cross on the front.
“That’s Angela Jenkins,” Aiden whispers. “She was on the Olympic equestrian team back in the eighties and won the gold medal for dressage.”
Holly shakes her head in wonder as “St. Nick” manages her fiery steed, all while throwing candies and calling out greetings to delighted children.
The prancing white horse eventually disappears over the horizon, the church bells ring again, and the parade is over. Holly’s surprised to realize a whole hour has flown by.
“I can’t believe how much I loved that,” Holly says. “Thanks for inviting me today.”
“I couldn’t imagine spending Christmas without you,” Aiden replies.
“I think it was the best one ever,” Grandma Hazel adds.
