Page 130 of Chasing Infinity

I’ll hang onto the hope that I’ll see him again if it’s the last thing I have.

We sit together on that bench, Grace sipping her hot chocolate and me lost in my thoughts. The lighting of the Christmas tree begins, the mayor leads the crowd in chanting down from fifteen before flipping the switch, and the square lights up even more than before. My eyes take in all the colors from the bulbs against the Christmas tree’s healthy green, and I sigh.

“Are you okay if I go and say hi to a few other people?” Grace asks me hesitantly. I nod and wave her off. Grace puts her hand on my shoulder, giving me a friendly squeeze before she wanders off, leaving me alone with my hot chocolate that has gone cold and a racing mind.

As I sit on the bench, I can’t help my eyes from straying over to the corner lot where the cafe used to be. Whenever I come to Main Street, I try my hardest not to look at it.

It’s all cleaned up now and built back into an actual storefront. Inside one of the front windows is aFOR LEASEsign with a number scrawled underneath. I’m equally surprised and not surprised that it hasn’t been rented out and turned into something new. It seems Willow Heights’s townspeople are pretty superstitious about tragic events like what happened to my family. No one is chomping at the bit to take over the cafe and risk getting whatever bad juju my parents brought onto themselves.

It’s a shame, though. I’d like to see it turned intoanythingother than just an empty lot. I can still picture exactly what the café’s storefront used to look like and can almost still hear my parents laughing as they interact with customers. Maybe someday, a business will take root where the cafe once was, and I can start building new memories to ease the ache of my old ones.

Giving one last longing glance towards the empty lot, I finally get up from my bench and walk home.

Christmas comes and goes uneventfully. Just as Grace told me, Eli had planned a romantic kiss under the mistletoe for us. Thankfully, since I had a heads up, I wasn’t caught completely off guard and let Eli down gently. I could tell he was upset, but he didn’t press the issue of us sharing a Christmas kiss.

After Christmas, New Year’s passes by in a blur. I celebrate the holidays and the beginning of a fresh new year with my friends by my side. Before I know it, it’s my birthday, and January is slowly threatening to turn into February.

On the morning of my birthday, I wake up to the sun streaming in through my blinds. Blinking a few times, I eventually decide I need to get up and go for the day. When I walk out into the living room, I’m met with the grinning face of my best friend-slash-roommate.

Grace gives me a big grin and holds out a plate to me. On it rests a massive muffin that looks suspiciously like cinnamon apple, my favorite. Stuck right in the middle of the delicious cinnamon crumble mess, on top is a bright pink candle, the flame slowly dancing around.

“Happy birthday!”

I laugh at my friend, stepping forward to blow the candle out. I squeeze my eyes shut, making a quick wish before I blow it out.

“Am I the first person to wish you a happy birthday?” Grace asks, putting the plate on the counter and then turning to give me a hug.

“You are,” I tell her, laughing again when she starts jumping in excitement.

“Yes! Finally!” she exclaims and then lets me go. “So, have you decided what you want for your birthday?”

I sigh and shake my head. “I don’t think there’s anything I need.”

“It’s not aboutneed,girlfriend,” Grace teases but doesn’t press the issue. She’s been asking me every day for the last two weeks what I want for my birthday, but I’ve come up blank every time. “Well, think about it. Your birthday doesn’t end until midnight tonight!”

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. I go to my shift over at Monty’s Groceries and make the most of it, striking up a conversation and making small talk when I see familiar faces come through the line. After work, I trudge back to the apartment I share with Grace on the other side of town. I’m distracted as I approach our front door, digging around in my bag and searching for the keys. Once I find them, I go to unlock the door, but I freeze as my eyes catch on something sitting on our doormat. My stomach flips as I bend down, unsure what to make of the sight in front of me. Gingerly, I pick them up, unlock the door, and head inside.

“Oh, there you are. I thought you would never get home,” Grace calls from her bedroom. She steps out into the living room, fastening an earring into her ear. “Hurry up and get changed. We’ve got places to—what arethose?” Her eyebrows raise as she catches sight of the massive bouquet of red roses I’m holding.

“I don’t—” I shake my head, at a loss for words. “They were sitting on our door mat.”

“Is there a note?” Grace asks, hurrying over to me. I set the flowers down on our table and start sifting through the soft rose buds, searching for any clue as to who sent them.

“I don’t see one,” I whisper, my hands dropping down to my sides in defeat. Silence falls over the room, and I share a glance with my best friend, wondering if we’re thinking the same thing. Her eyes go wide, and she must be able to feel the small bubble of hope forming in my heart.

“You don’t think—”

I shake my head, despite it all. No. As much as my heart might be wishing that Noah sent me these flowers, reason tells me otherwise. “He wouldn’t.”

Grace watches me as I reach out and stroke the satin petals. My heart aches as if a part of it is missing. I draw my hand away from the flowers and press it against my chest in an attempt to ease the hollow feeling. “I’m sure I’ll figure out who sent these one way or the other,” I say, taking one last longing look at the roses before turning to Grace fully. “What were you saying as I walked in?”

It takes her a beat, but Grace snaps out of whatever thought process she is stuck in. Her eyes spark with mischief as she grabs my hand and drags me toward my bedroom. “We have plans tonight, so I need you to get out of this smock and find something pretty!”

Less than an hour later, Grace and I are walking towards McKellan’s Pub & Grill. It’s one of my favorite places to eat, and they have pool tables and darts to keep you entertained too.

“What’s going on?” I ask her suspiciously. “Why’d you make me get all fancy to come toMcKellan’s?” The pub was a jeans and t-shirt kind of place, at best.

“You’ll see. Don’t ask questions,” Grace snaps, grabbing my hand and pulling me the rest of the way toward the door. When we get there, she pauses before we enter the restaurant. She turns to me with a gleam in her eye. “Ready?”

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