Page 75 of Please Send Snow
I can look back now and see that those connections were his treasures, more than any of the worldly wealth he accumulated.
And it’s never been clearer to me that he wasrightin what he held dearest. I could feel it in the moment when the ladies at the factory pulled me into the fold. Life really is about other people.
I close my eyes and try to picture my father in the chair opposite mine.
“You would want me to forgive him, wouldn’t you?” I whisper.
But he’s already nodding, smiling at me with those dancing hazel eyes that are so much like mine.
“I miss you,” I whisper.
But when I open my eyes, of course the chair is empty.
And I know that I’m not my father. It’s been a punishing year. And something in me just wants to stand on my own two feet while I’m licking my wounds.
I get up and head back out to the lobby, trying to steel my heart.
Stepping into the warm space, I look around to see that everyone is sitting on the sofas and chairs or even on the floor, plates of gooey grilled cheese balanced on their knees, mugs of soup in their hands.
But there’s no sign of Jake.
“She’s here,” Dylan whisper-shouts.
And suddenly someone is singing “Blue Christmas” in a smooth deep voice.
I look up, and to my shock, Jake Stone is standing by the back wall with the karaoke microphone in his hand. The sleeves of his white Oxford are rolled up to his elbows and its collar is flipped up, his hair is slicked back, and he’s singing at the top of his lungs.
I’m too stunned to talk, or move, or even think.
And while I stand here gaping at him, Jake continues to sing my favorite song to me in front of everyone.
And it’s nice. I mean, he probably shouldn’t quit his day job, but he’s mostly on key and he’s even sort ofdancing.It’s just his hips moving, but this is Jake Stone we’re talking about.
The whole lobby has fallen silent, but when he hits the second chorus everyone starts joining in, and there’s laughter along with the singing because I’m definitely not the only one here who is surprised.
Jake doesn’t break eye contact with me or stop singing for a moment. Not even when Penelope stops filming herself and for the first time since she arrived, gestures for her cameraman to take the spotlight off her and film Jake instead.
He’s probably being live-streamed right now, looking as foolish as he’s ever going to look in his whole life, and he doesn’t seem to care what anyone thinks about it but me.
When the song finishes at last, Jake strides over.
“You don’t have to answer me now,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear. “But I want you to know how serious I am about you.”
The next thing I know he’s sinking to one knee and holding out a sparkling ring.
“Madeline Foster,” he says as the tears slide down my cheeks again. “You’re brilliant, funny, and kind. You’re the sunshine to my thunderstorm. And when you’re near, you make every day feel like Christmas. Will you marry me?”
“She should make him grovel a while more,” Margo says to no one in particular.
“Say yes, Maddie,” Dylan whispers, tugging on my hand. “Say yes, and then we can be a family.”
That’s when I know I can’t run from my feelings anymore. I don’t think I ever really stood a chance against the Stone boys.
Because the only thing better than recovering from a horrible year on my own two feet, would be doing it with my two favorite people by my side.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes, I will.”
Jake is on his feet in an instant, pulling me close, brilliant blue eyes on mine as he leans down.
