Page 55 of Christmas Charms
He had me at magical.
“Yes!” I blurt without waiting for input from Aidan. “We’re in.”
Aidan glances over at me. “We are?”
“Totally.” I grin up at him, despite the nervous flutter in my belly.
There are only four charmed wishes left on my bracelet that haven’t come true yet, and one of them is an ice skate. If I’m trying to slow things down and make my magical Christmas last as long as I possibly can, I should be running for the hills.
But so far, most of what Aidan and I have done together has been Aidan’s doing. He’s the one who invited me to classic movie night, albeit with a little prompting from Josh. The whole reason we’re here in North Pole right now is because Aidan called and asked me to come with him. He’s also the one who brought up our past and opened the door for us to finally talk about our breakup, whereas I’m the one who keeps running away every time things get serious.
I want to finally show Aidan how much I love spending time with him, even though that time is running out faster than I can stand. Besides, I’ve pretty much turned into a professional snowman architect and the snowman charm has still refused to chime. I’m beginning to think the bracelet has plans of its own. Maybe we can put on Santa suits, take a spin around the North Pole pond and nothing will happen at all. It’s possible, right?
“Let’s do it.” I nod. I haven’t been on skates in years, but how hard can it be? It’s probably just like riding a bicycle.
Deep down inside, a nagging voice interrupts my shining optimism. You were never that great at cycling either, remember?
I ignore the warning, because the thought of seeing Aidan on skates, donning a felt beard like the one Pastor Mike is currently wearing, is too good to resist.
“All right, then,” Aidan says, and the way his face lights up makes me forget all about the conversation we had in the car just moments ago.
My days in Owl Lake might be numbered, but I’m determined to live every one of them to the fullest.
Chapter Sixteen
My Santa suit is atleast three sizes too big, but by some Christmas miracle, the rental stand at the North Pole skating pond has one last pair of white skates in my size. I do my best not to notice that they look exactly like the silver skate charm dangling from the bracelet on my wrist, but there’s no mistaking the ache in the back of my throat. The resemblance is unmistakable.
It doesn’t mean anything, I tell myself. All skates look alike.
Except Aidan’s skates don’t resemble mine in the slightest. When he meets me at our designated picnic table at the edge of the pond, the pair of skates in his hands are made of black leather instead of white, and the blades are long and sleek, like runners on a sleigh.
“All they had left in my size was hockey skates,” he says as he drops down beside me on the worn wooden bench.
Fruitcake greets Aidan as if a year has passed since he’s last seen him, even though it’s been all of five minutes. Everyone at the skating pond is dressed in matching Santa suits, but there’s no fooling Fruitcake. He knows Aidan immediately.
“Hey, boy.” Aidan grins and ruffles the scruff of golden fur on the dog’s chest. Watching the two of them together never fails to tug on my heartstrings.
“Can you make it around the ice in those things?” I narrow my gaze at Aidan’s skates. “They look dangerous.”
Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all. The sight of countless Santas gliding in slow-moving circles around the ice is undeniably charming. An old Johnny Mathis song drifts from the loudspeakers with dreamy lyrics that promise a marshmallow world in the winter—a whipped-cream day—and the commingled scents of hot cocoa and fresh snow hang heavy and delicious in the air. But now that I’m up close and personal to a real pair of skates, I’m beginning to doubt my ability to complete a lap around the pond in an upright position. I’m certain I can’t skate and sip hot chocolate at the same time.
“No problem. I played in a peewee hockey league when I was little.” Aidan shoots me a wink as he gets his skates on faster than I can make sense of the laces on my own pair.
I can’t believe I didn’t know Aidan played hockey as a little boy, but it makes perfect sense. Hockey is huge here in upstate New York. And I have to admit that I kind of love that we’re still discovering things about each other, even after all this time. Aidan never fails to surprise me, and the charm bracelet has made me realize that not all surprises are bad. In fact, I’m beginning to like them. A lot.
“Here, let me help you get laced up.” Aidan kneels in the fresh snow and reaches for my foot.
His hand around my ankle is warm and sure. A shiver flutters through me that has nothing to do with snowy weather. I bury one of my hands in Fruitcake’s soft fur, hoping to steady my galloping heartbeat. My dog rests his chin on my lap, and I feel like three of us could be a cozy scene on a glittery Christmas card.
The fluffy ball dangling from Aidan’s Santa hat falls in front of his eyes, and he bats it away. I laugh, and he pulls a face. Then our eyes meet, and my stomach does a little tumble. How does he manage to make a tacky Santa suit look so good?
“You look cute in that silly thing,” he says, mouth curving into a teasing grin as he nods at my own Santa outfit.
“It’s swallowing me whole,” I counter. Seriously, how am I supposed to skate like this? “I’m going to end up tripping over it and sliding all over that ice like Bambi. It’s not going to be pretty.”
Aidan laughs, and the low, masculine sound of it seems to tickle the insides of my ribs.
I bite my bottom lip. “Whose idea was this, anyway?”
