“Chloe and I were on the same truck, before she moved to Dallas,” Jake added.
“I was kidding!” Charlie knew she had to change the subject and quickly. “Hey, while I have you here . . .” She held out the snowflake topper. “Any chance you’re carrying a set of screwdrivers in your suit jacket? It was working this morning, but I’m thinking the batteries died.”
He took the topper from her, squinted at the tiny screw holding the battery case. “Let me see what I can do.”
“Thanks,” she said. “But isn’t the ceremony about to start? I don’t want to keep you . . . ?”
“A short delay, apparently. Some issues with the flower girl and ring bearer. It’s past their bedtimes.” Jake handed the snowflake back to her. “Hang on. I’ll be right back.”
Charlie took a moment to sit on one of the stools lining the kitchen’s island, rolling her ankles absentmindedly the way she used to when she worked at Souci as a way to prevent soreness in her arches from being on her feet for so long. She pulled an energy bar out of her apron’s pocket, taking a huge bite just as Jake came back.
He held up a small see-through tube, with a red plastic cap, which he popped off with his thumb.
“Thawasfas,” Charlie mumbled.
“What?” Jake dumped the tube’s contents into his palm, pinching a small metal screwdriver between his fingers.
Charlie chewed furiously, trying to get the bar down, but she swallowed too quickly and it got stuck in her throat. She coughed and sputtered, jumping off the stool and looking around for a glass of water. But Jake was way ahead of her, over at the sink with a champagne flute in hand, which he was filling with tap water. He pushed it into her hands.
She took a small sip of the water, hoping she didn’t cough it all over Jake and his fancy suit.
“Thanks,” she croaked out, smiling as she tapped her chest a few times and cleared her throat. “First my low blood sugar incident in the square. Then flat on my back on the trail. Then almost knocking over the cupcake display. Now choking on an energy bar . . .” Charlie took another sip of water. “I promise I’m not always like this. I’m usually pretty good at taking care of myself.”
“Nothing wrong with needing a bit of help here and there,” Jake replied, smiling as he turned his attention back to the screwdriver. He took off the snowflake’s backing and switched out the batteries for fresh ones Charlie had in her purse. They stood close now, and Charlie’s insides got that melty feeling again as she looked into Jake’s face, wondering if he was feeling the same way. It only took a moment’s glance to understand he was. The way he looked at her, like there was nowhere else he would rather be, unraveled Charlie further and she leaned impossibly close to him . . . so close they could almost . . .
All of a sudden the snowflake lit up in Jake’s hands.
“Ah! Look at that,” she said.
“Look at that,” Jake repeated softly, his eyes not leaving hers. He stepped toward her, the warmly lit snowflake glowing in his hand. Charlie held her breath. Then he was in front of her, placing the snowflake in her hands, but he didn’t let go, instead letting his fingers circle around hers. She wasn’t even self-conscious about her messy hair, or the icing smears on her apron, or the fact that she was supposed to be focusing on getting that snowflake on top of the cupcake tower.
Charlie breathed Jake in as he tugged her closer, his hands still circling hers.
“Cass,” he started, closing his eyes momentarily. “I don’t know if I can be just friends.” The last part he practically whispered, but he said it fervently. “Or I should say, I don’t know if I want to.” His voice broke and Charlie knew this was the point of no return.
She went up on her tiptoes and kissed him, their hands still clinging to the glowing snowflake between them. Charlie wasn’t sure for how long they were like that, the slow and steady pressure of Jake’s lips on hers, the rest of the world fading away. She didn’t want this to end, because she finally had to admit once and for all that what she felt for Jake wasn’t some furious crush that would burn out.
“Hey . . . Oh, sorry about that, kids.”
Charlie jerked away from Jake, putting a hand to her lips and looking at the door, where Chief Matthews stood.
“So, Greenman, the ceremony’s about to start.”
Jake managed to get a “Thanks, Chief,” out, his eyes still on Charlie.
Chief Matthews replied, “No problem,” and then tapped his hand on the doorframe before leaving. The room was suddenly quiet except for the bars of classical music that now eked into the kitchen from the library’s main room.