Page 51 of Savoring Christmas
Logan shook his head, as if searching for the right word. “That’s pretty special.”
She gave a small, wistful smile. “It is. And tonight, hearing your story about the tree lighting reminded me that the things we carry with us from the people we love are really the essence of Christmas.”
His gaze held hers for a moment, something steady and certain in his eyes. “I think you’re right. I’m glad to be making memories with you this season. I hope we have a lot more.”
“Do you mean that?”
“With every part of me,” Logan said. “I know it’s all been kind of fast—all this between us. But when I’m not with you, I think of you constantly. I find myself watching the clock before it’s time to come to class, wishing it would go faster. Then when I get here, it all goes too fast. What I’m trying to say is—I’m falling in love with you.”
She could hardly breathe with the joy that coursed through her body. “I’m falling in love with you too.”
For a moment, neither of them moved. The quiet hum of the kitchen, the faint strains of Bing Crosby still drifting from the boom box, wrapped around them like the warmest kind of silence.
Logan’s thumb brushed over her hand, a tender, grounding touch. “Then I guess we’d better get to that tree lighting before we miss the countdown.”
Mia’s lips curved. “We can’t miss your favorite tradition.”
He reached for her coat, helping her into it before shrugging into his own. She tucked her recipe box more securely into her tote, the smooth wood warm under her fingertips, as if her father’s presence was tucked safely there with her.
They stepped out into the cold—Cannoli trotting merrily alongside—their breath clouding in the frosty air. Snow fell in soft, drifting spirals, catching in her hair and clinging to the wool of Logan’s coat. The night was hushed except for the faint hum of Christmas music floating from the town square.
He slid his hand into hers, their fingers fitting together as naturally as if they’d been holding hands forever.
“Ready?” he asked.
She glanced up at him, her heart impossibly light. “More than ready.”
And together, they headed toward the glow of the tree.
By the timethey reached the town square, a fresh, soft layer of snow covered every roof, lamppost, and storefront awning. The lights glowed gold against the night, and the air carried the scents of popcorn, hot chocolate, and grilled sausages from the vendor stalls.
The church choir’s voices floated from the pavilion, rich harmonies rising inO Come, All Ye Faithful. People stood shoulder to shoulder, mittened hands wrapped around steaming cups, cheeks pink from the cold. Everywhere she looked, there were familiar faces—neighbors, shopkeepers, and families bundled together for the celebration.
“Over here!” Kris’s voice carried over the crowd. They were all there, minus Abby, who had joined Luke and their kids on the other side of the tree.
Holding hands, Mia and Logan wove their way through, Cannoli tucked under Logan’s arm in her tiny red sweater, until they found their friends gathered near the front. A circle had been saved for them, coats and gloves marking the space.
Reese passed Mia a cup of hot chocolate, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Compliments of Harold. It’s been enhanced.”
Harold raised his own cup in salute, winking. “Keeps the chill out.”
Logan took his cider with a grin, clinking it lightly against Mia’s. “Cheers to our favorite teacher.”
Mia’s chest warmed, not just from the drink, but from the sight of them all here together. A few months ago, she’d feltfriendless and still certain she’d be moving on at some point. Now, she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
Snowflakes drifted lazily through the air, settling on hats and shoulders, melting on the steam that curled from their cups. The hum of conversation blended with the choir, and somewhere in the crowd a child’s laughter rang out, bright as the bells that would chime when the tree lit up.
Was she finally home? Had the fractured pieces of her life brought her here where she belonged? It sure felt like it at the moment.
Her gaze swept the square, lingering on the massive evergreen in the center, its branches heavy with ornaments. She knew in a few minutes the mayor would step up to the microphone, the crowd would start counting down, and then the tree would light up the entire square.
Logan’s gloved hand brushed hers, and she smiled at him, her heart thumping inside her chest with what she could only assume was love.
Mia’s kitchenat the restaurant was warm despite the bitter cold pressing in from outside. She’d had a full house with people celebrating the holidays and special occasions. The fixed menu for that evening had been a celebration of winter—crostini with whipped ricotta, honey, and toasted hazelnuts; roasted red pepper and marinated olives; handmade pappardelle with wild mushroom ragù; braised short ribs in Barolo wine served over creamy polenta with roasted winter vegetables; and, for dessert, ricotta and lemon zest cheesecake with a cranberry compote.
Feedback from Remi said the menu had been a hit.
Now, she stood at the long prep table, carefully spooning glossy cranberry compote over the last slice of ricotta cheesecake, the jewel-toned sauce pooling against the creamy white. She added a curl of lemon zest to each plate, the bright citrus a final burst of color against the rich dessert. The door swung open, letting in a swirl of warm air and the hum of conversation from the dining room. Remi stepped inside, impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit and deep burgundy tie.
