Page 64 of Mistletoe & Magic
I don’t hesitate. I cup her jaw and cover her mouth with mine, slow at first, like I’ve got all the time in the world, then deeper when she rises on her toes and presses into me. Snowflakes melt against her skin, against my own, and the rest of the night vanishes until there’s only this, her breath, her soft gasp, the taste of her smile.
When I finally break away, our foreheads touch, both of us breathing hard.
“Okay,” she says, laughing breathlessly. “That was worth getting frostbite for.”
I grin, dizzy with it, and wrap the quilt around both of us, pulling her against my chest. “Then let’s make sure you don’t.”
We stand there for a long time, wrapped up in each other and the falling snow, while the horses wait patiently, as if they know something just shifted forever.
The next day after we close up shop for the day, the harbor smells of salt and fish when we pull up, and Pete’s already waiting on his bench. He’s bundled in blankets, cap pulled low, grinning like we’re the only thing he’s been waiting on all day.
“Thought you’d stand me up,” he rasps.
“Not a chance,” I tell him, clapping him gently on the shoulder. “You ready for the Dairy Witch?”
“Been ready since breakfast.”
Junie practically dances ahead of us, Lola trotting at her side. The bell over the Dairy Witch door jingles, and Pete points at the menu like a man on a mission.
“Ritzy AF is the only ice cream worth eating,” he says.
Ivy bites her lip, scanning the flavors. “I can’t decide.”
Pete snorts. “Then get the Ritzy AF. Trust me.”
So we do. Junie picks cookie dough with rainbow sprinkles and proudly licks the first drip before it hits her coat. We carry everything back to Pete’s bench, the dark sky a watercolor wash of grays and blues over the water.
Pete takes a bite, sighs like it’s the first good thing that’s happened in months. “Promise me something.”
“Anything,” Ivy says softly.
“Get ice cream every year on my birthday,” he tells us. His voice is steady, but there’s something behind it, something that makes my throat tighten. “Celebrate life. Every single day. Don’t take anything or each other for granted. Not for one damn second.”
Ivy reaches over and squeezes his hand. “Promise.”
I reach over and squeeze his shoulder gently, reassuring him.
Donna’s quiet, a single tear sliding down her cheek as she takes another bite of ice cream, her chest rising like she’s holding back more.
Junie shrieks suddenly and takes off after a seagull, Lola hot on her heels. “Junie!” I’m already running, catching her before she gets too close to the dock’s edge. She giggles breathlessly, arms thrown around my neck as I carry her back.
We finish the last bites in companionable silence. When Pete looks tired, we walk him and my mom to the bookstore so they can warm up. The fire is already crackling in the hearth when we settle in, mugs of cocoa in our hands, Junie on the rug, reading aloud in her wobbly little-kid voice. Pete dozes off in the armchair for a while, his blanket sliding to his lap, until Donna gently wakes him and helps him out to the car.
The ride home is quiet. Ivy reaches over and laces her fingers through mine, her thumb stroking once, twice, like a secret promise. It hurts seeing Pete go downhill.
In the rearview mirror, Junie’s head lolls against her booster seat, Lola curled against her like a furry shadow.
I glance back at them, then at Ivy. The streetlights glow against her profile, and I realize with a sudden, fierce clarity that I have everything I need right here. We’re going to be okay.
By the time we pull into the drive, Junie is out cold. I carry her inside, careful not to wake her, and tuck her into bed with Lola curled up at her feet. Ivy meets me on the couch, alreadyin her pajamas, looking as if the day emotionally exhausted her as well.
“She didn’t even stir,” she whispers.
“She had a big day.” I lean against her.
Ivy leans closer, wrapping her arms around herself. “He’s right, you know. About not taking things for granted.”
“Yeah,” I say. “He is.”
