Twelve.
Joy
“Three… Two… One…”
The massive tree at the center of town illuminates with pure, Christmas magic—and ten thousand multi-colored LED lights. A near mile-long worth of wire connecting them leads to the sparkling crystal star on top.
I’ve been to New York City around the holidays. I’ve seen the hype of Rockefeller Center and it is stunning. This tree, however, is a fifth of the size and holds ten times the beauty.
Applause follows the lighting of the tree and a line quickly forms with families hoping to take pictures. Somehow, Nick’s family ends up at the front of the line. “Hurry, hurry,” Natalie shoos everyone into place, handing her phone to the next person in line to take our picture .
I try to release Nick’s hand and step to the side, but he holds me tight, fixing me to stand in place with my back to his chest. “Smile, sweetheart,” he whispers low in my ear, sending a warm chill down my neck.
Strong arms envelop me from behind and I blush. It doesn’t feel right being a part of their traditional family photo based on a lie, but it’s hard to give in to my guilty conscience when he’s holding me like this.
Several quick shots are taken before everyone moves along to allow others their turn. “We’re going to head home,” Natalie says, tugging Tucker’s hat down to cover his ears. They give their hugs and ‘see you in the morning’ to everyone. Martina mans the stroller as they make their way to the parking lot. Nick’s aunt and uncle follow suit. His grandparents are busy chatting with friends. Rich and Leah announce they’re going to grab churros. Bruce and Betty get pulled into a conversation with their new neighbors, inviting them to Christmas Eve. Darcy and Eric linger nearby.
“Well.” Nick grins down at me, offering his arm. “How do churros and hot chocolate sound, followed by a walk through the holiday light display?”
I beam. “I think you’d be a man after my own heart with an offer like that, Mr. Davis.”
His eyes sparkle from the nearby Christmas tree and I fall a little deeper into him. “Then I’d say my plan is working perfectly.” He winks .
I blush. Since this morning, my fake fiancé has been putting on the charm. If anything, he turned up to eleven, and boy, am I falling for it big time. His cheeky grin and sultry gaze. I sigh wistfully remembering the feeling of his hard chest pressed against my back when I woke up this morning. There’s nothing quite like being the littlest little spoon to a hunky man who is a foot taller than you.
Nick pays for our late-night treat and we walk toward the entrance to the light show. We stop to watch a group of judges (since apparently there’s a contest) declare the winners of the ‘traditional display category’ being that of over thirty vintage outdoor pieces. From Santa and Mrs. Claus to the original cartoon Frosty the Snowman and Rudolf.
“Looks more like a hoarder’s holiday collection to me,” Nick mumbles, taking a sip from his cup.
“It’s a collection of memories,” I say, cringing as the creepy neon blue eyes of one of the Santas stares deep into my soul. “An old one.”
We continue making our slow way through the maze of lights and inflatable displays. We’re a little over halfway when it begins to snow. At the end, we step into a wire tunnel covered in hundreds, if not thousands, of traditional white lights.
I hug the steaming paper cup in my hands to my chest, gazing overhead. “It’s beautiful,” I say. The warm glow is radiant against the falling snow. Far prettier than any big screen could emulate.
“It is,” Nick comments, but when I glance in his direction, I find his attention isn’t on the lights or the snow. It’s on me .
My pulse quickens as he leans in, my eyes fluttering close in anticipation of—
“Excuse me. Would you mind taking a picture for us?”
The spell breaks.
After helping a couple get some photos, they kindly take ours in return before we begin the chilly walk back to where we’d parked—on the other side of the park. When we reach the sidewalk that leads to Nick’s rental, he runs into a couple of old friends from high school. I opt to excuse myself to find a restroom while they catch up.
Trailing my way back to where I left Nick last, I see his dad, Bruce, perched on a bench outside Annie’s Bakery. He’s hunched over and his breath is coming out in quick heavy puffs like he just ran a marathon.
“Hey, there.” I wave as I approach. “Fancy seeing you here.”
His gaze lifts, but only for a moment. “Joy,” he pants, patting the bench beside him. “How…are…you?”
“I’m fine,” I say carefully as I sit. “How are you?”
He coughs, attempting to clear his throat. “Goo—Good,” he forces out, then shakes his head with a swipe of his chin, leaving a pinkish smear there.
My concern heightens. “Are you sure?” I press further. He’s rather pale, but the temperature has dropped significantly since the sun set an hour ago. I looked rather ghostly in the mirror myself a moment ago. “Can I get you anything? Water? ”
He harrumphs. “You know, I never liked when people worried about me before the cancer,” he admits, sparing me a glance as he adds, “I hate it even more now.”
I smile in sympathy. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”
“Luck of the draw,” he muses. “Once—” He starts coughing heavily. This one goes from rough, like the sound of rattling rocks, and then turns wet.
I quickly grab the few napkins I stashed in my pocket and hold them out to him. He takes them, nodding as he fights through a coughing fit from hell. When the white of the napkin turns red, my concern morphs into fear. “Mr. Davis? Bruce, are you okay?”
He tries to wave me off, but I can tell he’s having a hard time catching his breath. His face goes from pale to red to purple in a matter of seconds. I drop to my knees in front of him, scrambling to help. I look around, not seeing Nick or his mom—or anyone for that matter.
Panic flares in my chest. I don’t know what to do.
“Help! We need help over here!”