Page 108 of Holiday Love
A few minutes later, we round a curve in the path, and I pause, squinting against the sun. There’s a small group of people ahead, gathered around what looks like a tall metal contraption planted in the sand.
Raising my hand to shade my eyes, I blink. “Is that…Jamie?”
I stare, certain I must be hallucinating. What would Teddy’s best friend be doing here?
Wait…is that Lindsey next to him?
No. No way.
Those two can’t stand each other. Or at least Lindsey can’tstand Jamie. She’s never told me why, only muttered things like“cocky surfer vampire,” “entitled asswipe,”and“walking red flag.”
As a group, my family moves closer until I can make out what’s happening. A black machine, shaped kind of like a cannon, is set high on a tripod, staked down in the sand. From the tip of that cannon comes the most amazing thing…
Snow.
“What in the world?” I turn to Teddy, eyes wide, mouth open, only to find him watching me. He’s eating up my surprise, my delight, like it’s his favorite ice cream flavor, even better than Rocky Road.
Together, we walk toward the spectacle, my mom and dad just ahead as Jamie waves hello. Up close, the machine hums softly as a burst of fine mist shoots from its mouth. That stream of white thickens, gathers, transforms into something softer, lighter.
Snowflakes.
They flurry through the air in glittering spirals, catching the golden slant of the late-afternoon sun. It’s not quite real snow. The flakes are lighter, foamier, and scented faintly of something clean and artificial, but that doesn’t matter. The snow floats down in slow, weightless drifts, clinging to sweaters and hair, dusting the sand like sugar on a pastry.
For a moment, the entire beach transforms. The ocean crashes steadily behind us, waves curling against a shore now dotted with patches of white. Seagulls screech in the distance. We aren’t the only ones entranced. Other families have gathered to see this miracle. A child nearby squeals with delight, spinning beneath the falling flakes. My mom tilts her face up, eyes fluttering closed, and I swear she looks decades younger, transported to some far-off winter from long ago.
Teddy turns to me, snow in his eyelashes, dotting his cheeks, his expression somewhere between smug and hopeful.
“It’s not the real thing,” he says, brushing a bit from my sleeve. “But I figured California wouldn’t mind a little glow-up. Or rather, a snow-up. North Pole approved. Just for you and your mom.”
“Teddy…” I grab his sleeve and pull him closer. For a second, I just look at him, too overwhelmed to speak. My heart is so full it might burst.
He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but his cheeks flush. “Your mom said how much she missed a white Christmas. How she wanted you to have one.” He cups my face. His touch is gentle, steady. “I can’t give you real snow. Not yet, but someday I’ll fly you to Aspen. To Switzerland. Someday, I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”
His thumb brushes my cheekbone. His voice drops lower, more serious. “I know you don’t need that. You don’t need me. You took care of me when I couldn’t walk. When I felt like I was drowning. You saved me. I’m going to be strong enough to do the same for you. To be your anchor when the world tries to knock you down.”
He glances toward my parents, dancing in the snow, my mom’s cheek pressed to my dad’s chest. His gaze lingers on that, on them, still in love after all these years.
“Whatever the future looks like,” he says softly, “I’m here. For all of it with you.”
He takes a breath, like he’s bracing for gravity to shift beneath his feet. “I know it’s only been a couple of months, and I don’t want to scare you off, but…I’m falling in love with you. Actually—,” he swallows, “—Iamin love with you. Is that okay to say?”
My smile breaks free, bright as the sun slipping into the sea behind us. I rise onto my toes and wrap my arms around his neck. “Technically, it’s been a year and a couple of months, so yes. You’re allowed to say it. Because I’m in love with you too, Teddy Wright. Hopelessly, irreversibly, gloriously in love with you.”
He grins, and when he kisses me, it’s soft but it carries weight. Like he’s making a promise. When we break apart, our family and friends have gathered around us. My mom is there, her eyes shining. I step out of Teddy’s arms and go to her.
“Merry Christmas, Mom.” I hug her tight, then turn back to the rest of them, all these people I love.
Teddy’s already beside me again, his arm wrapped around my shoulders. Laughing, he calls out, “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
Like he’s magic, which, honestly, he kind of is, the sun dips below the horizon right on cue, casting one last flash of gold across the ocean.
The snow keeps falling on the sand.
Two impossible things, colliding in the most perfect way.
Just like Teddy and me.
Chapter forty-nine
