Page 72 of Tinsel & Tools
We trudged through the nearly mile-long walk, and the closer we got, the thicker the crowd of people became. I pulled my coat tighter and kept my head down as we passed the ice rink filled with skaters. Christmas carols played from hidden speakers, but instead of bringing a smile to my face, the cheery voices grated on my nerves.
As we approached the giant tree covered with thousands of green, red, and white lights glowing brightly, I lifted my gaze and froze.
The sound of the music faded, and everything around me disappeared.
I had to be imagining things.
27
Cole
Gavin’s eyes found mine, as a light flurry drifted softly around us in the glow of the lights. His mouth parted, his breath fogging in the cold. “What are you doing here?”
I stopped at the railing, my pulse ringing in my ears. “Isn’t this what the hero’s supposed to do in a Christmas love story? Show up at the tree and fight for the guy?”
“That’s what happens in fictional stories. Real life doesn’t usually look like this.”
“Maybe it should.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Allie a few feet back, tucked into her coat. She gave me a quick nod before turning away, leaving us to have our moment.
The rink below us was crowded, full of skaters circling under the tree. Their laughter carried over the scrape of blades on ice. Tourists lifted cameras, families bunched together for photos, the whole plaza glowing like it belonged on a postcard.
“You hurt me,” I started. “Not with the writing itself but because you kept it from me. It made me feel like I was just a story you wanted to tell, rather than someone who mattered to you.”
His lips pressed together, then parted. “I know. I should’ve told you about it. But I was so excited to be writing again that I wasn’t thinking about what it would mean for you to have your story out in the open.”
I pulled a breath in through my nose and let it go slowly. “I know the book means everything to you, but that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because of you. I miss you at my table, next to me at The Tap, in my bed. The house went cold the second you left, and I keep looking at your side of the bed, hating how empty it is. I can’t do another night without you there.”
His lips parted again, like he didn’t trust himself to answer.
“I love you.” The words hit the air before I could second-guess them. “I love you, and I’m done pretending I don’t. I don’t care who sees us, I don’t care what the town says, I don’t care if people look at me differently. None of it matters. What matters is you. I want to wake up with you, eat dinner with you, laugh with you, decorate for every holiday with you—all of it. I want every part of a life with you.”
His shoulders dropped as the tension slipped out of him all at once. “I love you too. I didn’t plan to. I told myself we were just messing around, but somewhere along the way, I fell for you, and I didn’t know how to tell you without scaring you off. Maybe that’s why I was writing it. It was the only way I knew how to let it out.”
“I was falling too, and I was too damn stubborn to admit it.”
“We both screwed it up, but I never imagined today would end like this. I didn’t think you’d show up in New York City.”
“I almost didn’t, but Ryan was right. He said he hasn’t seen me this happy in years, and he isn’t wrong. I’m happier with you around. I laugh more. I feel more. I can’t lose that.”
Gavin stared at me for a long beat, his eyes shining in the glow of the lights. Then he stepped closer and his gloved hand brushed mine at the railing. “So, what happens now?”
“Now we stop hiding.”
Snow caught on his lashes as he searched my face like he was making sure I meant what I’d said. “You’re serious?”
“As serious as I know how to be.”
His hand slid into mine, our gloved fingers locking. “Then don’t let go.”
“I’m not letting go.”
We stood like that while the skaters continued to move below us, Christmas music played from the sound system, and flashes popped as tourists took pictures.
His voice dipped low enough that only I could hear. “You really don’t care who sees?”
“No,” I answered. “Not anymore.”
