Page 117 of Love so Cold

Victor's gaze doesn't waver from mine. "It was my mom's," he says quietly, the noise of the crowd behind us now just a distant hum. "The only thing I had from her. She left it for me in a lock box—got it when I turned eighteen."

A note comes with the memory, and his voice catches on it. "She said she was sorry...that she loved me very much."

My heart clenches tight, tears brimming unexpectedly. I curl my fingers around his, feeling the cool metal press into my skin. "Victor, I'm honored to wear this."

"Really?" He sounds almost surprised, like he can't believe someone would cherish a piece of his past so deeply.

"Of course, really." I swipe at a stubborn tear that escapes down my cheek. "Have you ever tried to find out more about her? About your family?"

He shakes his head, the faintest tremor in his smile. "No, it was too painful. Like opening old wounds."

"Sometimes wounds need air to heal," I say softly, thinking of my own past, the scars I've hidden away.

"Yeah," he agrees, his thumb tracing circles over the back of my hand. "Maybe it's time for a push, huh? Just like with skating."

"Maybe." I lean into him, my head resting against his shoulder as we stand there, two people bound by love and the courage to face what comes next.

Victor's lips meet mine, and it's like the world falls away. Just us here, in the cold air that somehow feels so warm. His arms wrap around me, solid and sure, as my tears mingle with our kiss. It's a moment full of everything—love, promises, futures blooming like spring after the harshest winter.

"Mom!" Olivia's voice slices through the cheers still echoing from the stands, her small figure skating towards us with determined grace. She throws herself into our embrace, and suddenly it's not just two, but three hearts beating together in this hug.

"Knew I did good," she mumbles into my coat, her words muffled but proud.

"Interfered, you mean," I laugh, pulling back to look at her.

"Same thing." Olivia grins up at us, her eyes sparkling with mischief and delight.

Victor chuckles, ruffling her hair with affection. "You're a matchmaker now, huh?"

"Guess so." She shrugs, pretending nonchalance, but I can see the joy dancing in her gaze.

We all share a laugh, the echoes of it joining the melody of the crowd's celebration. It's pure happiness, unfiltered and radiant, lighting us up from the inside out.

The End.

Epilogue

Victor

The first blushof dawn is just tinting the frosted windows when I slip out from under the duvet, careful not to wake Avery. The cold bites at my toes as I pad across the wooden floor, but the excitement bubbling in my chest keeps the chill at bay. In the kitchen, the scent of cinnamon rolls fills the air, sweet and warm, a contrast to the icy patterns on the glass.

"Morning," Avery murmurs, her voice thick with sleep as she shuffles into the room, a cascade of bed-tousled hair framing her face. Her eyes are barely open, but there's a soft smile on her lips that tells me she's already sensed the day's special aura.

"Hey, sleepyhead." I hand her the mug of hot chocolate I've been keeping warm. "Merry Christmas."

She wraps her hands around the cup, the steam fogging up her glasses for a moment before she takes them off to wipe them clean. "You didn't have to do all this," she says, but the glint in her eye tells me she's glad I did.

"Of course I did," I reply, leading her towards the living room where the tree stands sentry. We settle on the couch, the only sound the gentle hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen and the faint crackle of the fire I'd stoked earlier.

I pass her a plate of breakfast – eggs, bacon, and those cinnamon rolls that now seem even more enticing. She dives in, and we eat in companionable silence, the kind you can only share with someone you're wholly comfortable with.

"Look at the tree," I say after we've polished off our plates, nodding toward the twinkling lights and the myriad of handmade ornaments that Olivia had insisted on placing front and center. "It's perfect."

Avery leans into me, her shoulder warm against mine. "It's beautiful," she agrees, her gaze lingering on a paper angel Olivia had crafted with an excess of glitter and enthusiasm. "She did a good job."

"Best tree I've ever seen,” I declare, and it's no exaggeration. There's something about the haphazard way the decorations are arranged, each with its own story, that makes it feel like more than just a festive display. It's a tapestry of our littlefamily, just the three of us, finding our way together.

Outside, the world is waking up, but inside it's just us, sipping hot chocolate and basking in the glow of a Christmas morning that feels like it was years in the making, yet somehow arrived right on time.

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