Chapter 35
The Sip and Glide ice-skating event begins late, at eleven p.m. It’s adults-only, with a bar set up at one end of the rink serving holiday-themed drinks, like spiked eggnog, hot buttered rum, and Irish cream hot chocolate.
I’ve only ever attended twice before, when I came home from medical school over Christmas.
It’s fun and festive, even if you’re not an eggnog connoisseur or ice-skating fan.
Which I am not. However, tonight I have a pair of skates over my shoulder because someone (my mother) didn’t think I should make Austin skate alone.
The rink glows against the nighttime sky backdrop. Candy-cane poles, set every few feet, are wrapped in twinkle lights, with old-fashioned outdoor bulbs hanging in lines between them. There’s music playing from speakers at each side of the rink—Christmas carols, of course.
Amelia, Austin, and I have come over directly from Amelia’s place.
We spent the last two hours tagging candy canes for tomorrow’s tree lighting.
It wasn’t lost on me that last year’s Elizabeth would have loved Austin showing up the way he did in Harmony Hills.
Appreciated how my boyfriend and sister had a chance to spend some time together.
But this version of me—Libby, stuck in the past with a clear view of the future—is melancholy at best, and panicked at worst, by what’s transpired over the past few hours.
I’m dreading the evening and have already tried to convince Austin, more than once, unsuccessfully, to make it an early night and skip ice-skating.
I considered claiming illness, but I’d only narrowly avoided a trip to Westhaven and its CT scanner, so I know it’s not an option.
Austin also used to play hockey, so skating is definitely in his wheelhouse.
He’s borrowed Dad’s skates because the two of them share the same size feet.
I’m nervous when we arrive at the rink, a couple of minutes early.
A fluttering in my belly, a slight quiver of my hands noticeable only as I lace up the first skate.
Amelia and Austin are getting us drinks at the pop-up bar on the other side of the rink, and I hope—foolishly, for Harmony Hills is too small for anonymity—they don’t run into anyone. And by anyone, I mean Liam.
I haven’t seen him yet, but with every passing moment I grow more anxious. I don’t know how to explain Austin’s sudden arrival to Liam. Especially after what happened earlier, when I told him we were on a break and made it sound like I wanted it to be permanent.
“Hold it together, Libby,” I whisper to myself.
My eyes are on the laces as I tie a bow, but when there’s give on the bench, I glance over to find Liam beside me.
He’s wearing a red-and-black-plaid flannel jacket, unzipped, over a black wool sweater, jeans, and the same boots he had on earlier today.
He hands me a hot chocolate with a smile, and the Irish cream scent wafts up with the steam.
“I took a guess,” he says. “Couldn’t decide if eggnog or grown-up hot chocolate was more your thing.”
“Nailed it,” I reply, smiling back. Despite how stressed I am, the sight of him buoys my mood and a warm flush of happiness fills me. “I have a tenuous relationship with eggnog. I used to like it, before I overdid it at a work Christmas party.” I wrinkle my nose, grimacing.
“Been there,” Liam says, chuckling and gently tapping his take-out cup to mine in a “cheers” gesture. He points at my skates. “Thought you said you were more of a bench warmer?”
His eyes crinkle, and the dimples shine through, despite his five o’clock shadow.
Seeing those smile-induced lines around his mesmerizing green eyes reinforces that Austin’s face doesn’t have character like this.
He’s too focused on creating a wrinkle-free canvas, and his smile never fully reaches his eyes as a result.
Austin. Jingle hell … I see him now, coming towards me. Towards us. Amelia’s found Beckett over by the bar, and the two are sharing a hug. I have to get off this bench, now, and away from Liam—for everyone’s sake.
“Uh, thanks for the hot chocolate. I’m going to… I need to find Amelia.” Then to myself I quietly add, “ This is not a drill. ”
I’m in such haste to get out of there that I forget I’m wearing ice skates—and that I’ve finished doing up the laces on only one skate. Which proves to be an unfortunate oversight a moment later when I trip over the untied lace and stumble forward right onto the ice rink.
I manage to stay upright, my arms windmilling, my hot chocolate flying through the air behind me, for a few torturous seconds until my skates slip out from under me.
I hear “Libby!” and “Elizabeth!” shouted simultaneously, from Liam and Austin respectively. I see stars, and they aren’t the ones in the sky above me—definitely bumped my head this time. I close my eyes and groan.
“Ouch,” I mumble, wondering what I was thinking when I put these skates on in the first place. The voices get closer, and it’s Liam who’s by my side first.
“Libby, are you okay?” He slips a little on the ice—he’s wearing boots, not skates—and then crouches beside me. His smile has been replaced by a frown, the lines deepening between his furrowed brow. He helps me sit up, his arm strong behind my back.
“I’m okay,” I say, my voice weak, for I know what’s coming next. My two worlds are about to collide.
Liam murmurs “That’s good,” then chuckles as he laces up the other skate for me. “There… problem solved,” he says, flashing me that smile ( all the dimples) I’ve come to adore.
Problem definitely not solved , I think.
Austin is there a split second later, but he stops just short of the ice and stands on the rink’s wooden ledge.
Then he carefully steps onto the ice, making sure he doesn’t wipe out as he takes the couple of steps to where I’m sitting.
With a quick glance at Liam, Austin then stands over me with his hands on his hips, a furrowed expression on his face. “Elizabeth, Jesus! What happened?”
Liam looks at me, then at Austin, then back to me. Well, here we go , I think, standing up with some difficulty due to the awkwardness of the skates. But Liam’s right there, holding my elbow and making sure I’m steady.
“Austin, this is Liam Young. Liam, this is… Austin Whitmore,” I say. My entire body quivers from adrenaline and nerves.
Austin reaches a hand out to shake Liam’s. “I’m Elizabeth’s boyfriend. Nice to meet you.”
Then he crosses his arms over his chest, glancing between us. A relaxed smile comes across his face, but I recognize a hint of displeasure underneath it. “So how do you two know each other?”
“Funny story,” I start, letting out a quick laugh. “Liam has a rescue farm—and a boulangerie, which is a fancy French name for a bread bakery.”
“I know what a boulangerie is,” Austin replies, nodding. He smiles again, but it’s more strained.
“Of course you do,” I say, and it comes out tinged with sarcasm. Liam raises an eyebrow, but Austin doesn’t seem to notice. “Anyway, he was walking his potbellied pig—sorry, Miss Elsie’s pig, Mary Piggins—and I was… getting some fresh air…” Libby, you are making this much, much worse.
“And Mary Piggins startled me, and I fell into the snow. Then she bought me a hot chocolate as an apology—well, Liam paid for it, obviously.” I laugh again, but neither Austin nor Liam join me.
There’s a pain in my chest, and it nearly takes my breath away.
Liam won’t meet my eyes, and his hands are stuffed deep into his pockets as he shifts from one foot to the other.
One could assume it’s from the cold, but I know that has nothing to do with it.
I’ve hurt him, even if I didn’t mean to, and certainly didn’t want to.
An awkward moment of silence settles between the three of us, then I hear Beckett calling Liam’s name.
She holds up a pair of black hockey skates with one hand, another pair slung over her shoulder by the tied laces.
I notice she’s also holding Amelia’s hand.
My sister catches my eye, and her grin fades when she sees me standing with Liam and Austin.
“Well, looks like my skates are ready,” Liam says. He still doesn’t look my way, and I want to reach out and grab his arm to keep him here. So I can apologize for… everything, I guess. To reiterate that it’s truly over with Austin, despite how this looks.
Also? I want him to know I’m falling for him— have fallen for him—and that I’ve never felt more like myself than I do when we’re together. However, instead of saying these things, I stand still as a statue and dumbly watch him walk away.
“I got you an eggnog,” Austin says, gesturing towards the bench where two red Solo cups rest.
“I don’t like eggnog.”
“Since when?” Austin asks, which is fair enough. Last holiday season—so only two weeks ago in this timeline—I drank far too many glasses of eggnog at the hospital’s Christmas party, to the point where Austin said, with a laugh, “How about you save some for the rest of us?”
Again, I’m amazed I didn’t see it before now. How Austin could be casually unkind, but in a way that made it hard to recognize in the moment. “Since… it doesn’t matter. I don’t want eggnog.”
“Fine—we can get you something else.” Austin lets out an irritable sigh. “But maybe take off the skates first? I don’t want to have to call you ‘Clutzabeth’ instead of Elizabeth.”
He smirks at his own joke, and then he offers his hand to help me off the ice.
“Actually, I prefer Libby now.” I ignore his outstretched hand and, inch by inch, feet turned out penguin-style, make my own way off the rink.