Page 79 of Cross Check Christmas
"No way," I say, pulling her closer.
"Maybe they're just busy celebrating Christmas with family?" But Colette doesn't sound convinced.
"We'll try again later. For now, I just want to enjoy being here with you."
She smiles and snuggles into my chest, and I've never felt more content. "You're right. Whatever they're up to, they're probably fine."
The Christmas tree lights twinkle in the corner, casting everything in a soft glow. Outside, snow falls in fat, lazy flakes, but in here it's warm and perfect.
"What are you thinking about?" she asks, tilting her face up to mine.
"How much I want to kiss you right now."
A blush creeps across her cheeks, but she doesn't look away. "What's stopping you?"
I brush a strand of blonde hair from her face, letting my fingers linger against her skin. Her eyes flutter closed at the touch as I cup her face in my hands. I close the distance between us, capturing her lips with mine. She tastes like every Christmas wish.
Her hands slide up my chest to link behind my neck, and I pull her closer, deepening the kiss. This isn't like our first kiss in the snow, tentative and new. Or like the desperate one at the pageant when I thought I might lose her. This kiss feels like coming home, like finding something I didn't even know I was missing.
She sighs into the kiss, her fingers curling into my sweater, and I swear I could stay in this moment forever. I pour everything I can't say yet into it—how she makes me better, how seeing her with my family fills me with joy, how I want to spend every Christmas exactly like this.
"I can't believe we wasted so much time," she whispers against my lips.
"We're here now." I back away an inch so I can look into her eyes. "That's what matters."
25
COLETTE - EPILOGUE
The morning after Christmas sparkles with fresh snow, and my boots crunch satisfyingly as Hendrix and I make our way down Main Street toward Daisy's bakery. I steal glances at him while we walk, still not quite believing yesterday's perfect Christmas morning at Grannie's house was real.
"So..." I twist my scarf between my fingers. "About Toronto..."
"What about it?" Hendrix's hand finds mine, his warmth seeping through my mittens.
"It's just... three hours is a long way.”
"Three hours and twelve minutes," he says. "I checked."
"That's specific."
"I also mapped out every Tim Hortons between here and there." His eyes crinkle at the corners. "And calculated the exact midpoint where we could meet for coffee dates… or tea dates.”
"You did not."
"Did too. There's this place called The Rusty Kettle. Terrible reviews, but perfect location."
I try to laugh, but it comes out shaky. "Hendrix, I'm serious. What if… I mean, you'll be traveling for games, and I have the school schedule to consider, and?—"
Hendrix stops walking right there in the middle of the sidewalk. He turns to face me, gathering me into his arms with such tenderness my heart skips. His eyes lock onto mine, intense and certain.
"Colette McAllister, are you trying to talk yourself out of this?" His breath forms little clouds in the cold air. "Because I'm not letting you go this time. We'll figure it out. I can drive down after home games. You can grade papers in my condo on weekends. We'll make it work."
"But—"
"No buts." He pulls me closer. "Unless it's your butt getting frozen to my truck again. That we can discuss."
I smack his chest, but I'm laughing. "You promised never to bring that up!"
