Page 73 of The Crush of Christmas Past
“No, no, no!” Jovie gasps, grabbing his arm. “It’s not dark yet! The sun is up, see?” She taps the illustration with an impatient little huff.
Whoops.
Theo smirks, adjusting his tone. “With Stardust by her side, Jovie ventured into the slightly spooky but still well-lit forest…”
Jovie nods. “Good.”
I bite back a smile. “Had I known I’d have such a perceptive audience, I would’ve splurged on an editor.”
“It’s perfect,” Theo says, his thumb tracing over the soft blend of pastel colors I used to depict Stardust’s rainbow mane. “Really.”
The quiet sincerity in his voice bathes me in warmth. “I had time on my hands. The privilege of being jobless.”
He freezes mid–page turn, eyes snapping to mine. “Isla.” The two syllables of my name hang in the air—question, statement, and a quiet demand all at once. “What? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It’s a recent development.” So recent I’ve barely processed the shock.
I’m also still working on the wholestop-feeling-like-a-failurepart.
“Keep going!” Jovie places her palm on Theo’s cheek, redirecting his focus to the book. “Do the ‘Kindness Rainbow’ song.”
“We’ll talk,” he says, gaze still locked with mine. “Later.”
I press my lips together. “Sure. Later.”
With that, his attention swings back to Jovie, and he starts singing. It’s impossible not to get caught up in the scene—her tiny hands clapping, his deep voice somehow giving meaning to the corny lyrics. They’ve created their own little universe, and I’m being pulled into it.
The soft scent of Jovie’s peppermint shampoo mingles with the clean, woodsy notes of Theo’s cologne. I don’t even realize I’m leaning in, lured by the warmth between them, until my head floats dangerously close to Theo’s shoulder.
It’s the sudden flash of Willow’s phone camera that yanks me back to reality. I abruptly pull upright, cheeks burning.
“I’m obsessed with how cute the three of you look right now.” Willow snaps another picture. “You’re one lucky kid, Jojo. Between an auntie who creates picture books and an uncle who makes cartoons, I don’t think I’ve ever met a kid more spoiled by talent.”
“Cartoons?” Jovie and I ask simultaneously. Her question is aimed at her mom, while mine heads for Theo.
Theo’s jaw tightens for a moment as he glares at Willow. “Really, Will?”
“What?” His sister gives him an innocent shrug. “You said it was her Christmas present. A cartoon about Stardust and—”
“Stardust cartoon?!” Jovie vibrates with excitement, my book forgotten. “Show me! Show me!” She nearly tumbles off his lap. “Pretty please, Teddy Bear?”
“Yes, show us,” I urge, leaning closer.
“I was going to wait until your birthday next month,” Theo explains, reaching for his phone. “You already got such a nice story about Stardust from Isla.”
“I don’t mind sharing the spotlight,” I assure him.
Unlocking his cell, he angles the screen so we can both see.
“Theo!” I gasp as the video boots up. “This is…wow.”
Vibrant colors, seamless motion, and characters so realistic they could leap off the screen—the whole thing looks like it’s been lifted straight from a primetime children’s show.
An animated version of Jovie stands in a forest clearing beside a unicorn that looks exactly like her stuffy.
“When you can’t do something,” it tells her, “just add yet. I can’t fly…yet.”
Cartoon Jovie climbs onto a tree stump, arms stretched wide, face scrunched in determination. “We can’t fly yet, Chirpy, but we’ll practice until we can.”
