“It’s late, and it’s not safe for you to walk alone.” He turns and then gently clasps my headphones from where they sit around my neck, nestling them on my ears. “We don’t have to talk,” his muffled voice says. “We can just…” He peers out at the snow, then tips his face up to the sky.
“Be,” I finish for him.
He peers down at me, his eyes warm. “Yeah.”
And we do just that, long, quiet strides along the snow-packed sidewalk. Elbows bumping, eyes dancing each other’s way. I hum to myself, and Jonathan is silent, staring ahead, a soldier marching into battle. He looks so serious, and I wonder what’s heavy on his mind. But I don’t ask. Because I shouldn’t want to know. I shouldn’t want to drag him inside my apartment and warm him up and ask him to pour out his heart.
As we stop in front of my building, I turn and face Jonathan. “Thank you for your escort, good sir.”
He gives me a stern look. “You have no business walking alone, especially with those headphones on, understand?”
I shrug. “It keeps life exciting.”
“Exciting.” He massages the bridge of his nose. “Christ, Gabriella.”
Carefully, I step close and smile up at him, blinking away snow and the threat of tears. “Happy holidays, Jonathan.”
To my absolute dizzying delight and bittersweet astonishment, Jonathan wraps me in his arms and sets his cheek on the crown of my head. A long slow exhale leaves him. “Merry Christmas, Gabriella.”
We pull apart, setting necessary distance between us as I tell him, “Promise you’ll meet your online friend, okay?”
He nods. “I promise. And you, too?”
“Yes.” I swallow a lump in my throat. “I hope she’s everything you wanted.”
Jonathan stares down at me, searching my gaze. “I already know she is.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re so cocky. Some of us, however, who are also meeting our anonymous online pen pals, are quaking in our snow boots.”
“Your Mr. Reddit better be quaking in his boots. He’s got a lot to prove before he’s worthy of you.”
A blush heats my cheeks. “I’m talking about what he thinks of me. I’m nervous. But I’m thinking I’ll go baptism by fire and show up in my ugliest Christmas sweater. It plays music. If he can handle that, we can make it through anything.”
Jonathan’s face breaks into a smile so devastating, it knocks the air out of my lungs. It transforms him, two gorgeous dimples carving down his cheeks, his eyes crinkled handsomely at the corners. His throat works as he laughs loud and deep. Then he drags me into his arms again, hugging me hard as he whispers something into my hair.
“Hey!” I squeak. “Stop smothering me! You finally smiled, and I’m missing it!”
He pulls back and exhales roughly, the smile gone, replaced by something raw and fierce.
“What is it?” I ask.
But he doesn’t answer me. He opens my building’s door and nudges me inside. And then he sets his gloved hand on the glass of the door. I set my hand there, too.
A moment later, he steps back, turns, and disappears into the snowy night.
“What a strange, lovely man.”
My vision’s watery, a solitary tear slipping down my cheek, but I smile to myself the whole way up the stairs.
Chapter 13
Playlist: “You and Me at Christmas,” Why Don’t We
Maybe it’s cumulative exhaustion, but for the first time in weeks, my sleep is a black blanket, heavy and dreamless. I wake up rested on Christmas Eve morning and whip up brunch with Eli and June before heading to my parents’ to celebrate. It’s laughter and good food and music, happy chaos that I love but also requires lots of headphone time.
I sleep dreamlessly that night, too, and wake up to a picture-perfect white Christmas.
Bing sings the famous apropos song as snow drifts from the sky and my parents and I open presents in front of the tree. When the next song starts, my heart twists.
Little Jack Frost, get lost, get lost.
I try very hard to banish Jonathan from my thoughts, because tomorrow I meet Mr. Reddit. But after another long day of celebrating, after I tumble into my bed that night, savoring the cozy comfort of my apartment and my cuddly Gingerbread, I’m not as lucky as I have been the past two nights.
This time, my dreams are different. The hands and body holding me close, loving me, filling me, are gentler, careful, like it’s our first time and there’s a world to discover between us. It’s not Jonathan…and yet something deep in my mind says it is. As I swim to the surface of my dreams, they morph to Jonathan and I saying goodbye outside my apartment, just like after the big sale. Jonathan’s staring down at me, something fierce and hot in his gaze as he tells me what he told me that night: