Chapter 30 The Nutcracker
Claire
Aknock on the glass door startles me, and I whip around to find Everett waving and pointing at the lock on the door. Snow is coming down all around him. His face is a little red from the cold, and two paper cups are in his hands
I click the lock and let him in.
“Sorry,” I say. “It’s freezing out there. Hopefully that was the first time you knocked?”
“It was,” he assures me, making his way inside the studio and dusting off some of the snow from his jacket. “How are you feeling?”
“Better.” My eyes find the clock. “Shit, has it really been an hour?”
“Yeah.”
“Did Cami have any insight into the crystals?”
“No,” he says, handing me one of the cups. “I don’t know. The way she talked about them kind of made me think they’re bullshit.”
I snort. “I think we’re supposed to be believing in the magic, not questioning it.”
He shrugs. “I guess it made me realize that we better come up with a different solution.”
Sitting, I begin to unlace my shoes, and he sits next to me.
“Did dancing help you feel better?” he asks.
“It did. Thank you for knowing it’s what I needed,” I say, focusing on the knot of one of the ribbons. “So, if it’s not the crystals, what do you think it is?”
He shakes his head. “Other than you and me falling—”
I let out a chuckle. “Everett!”
“Hey, it’s the best lead we have.”
“So we’re back at square one?”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” I exhale. The music fades and the next song begins to play.
“This is interesting music,” he says. “What is it?”
“The Nutcracker.”
“Hmmm. Is this the song you dance to?”
“No,” I laugh. “This is Mother Ginger and her polichinelles. Have you never seen the ballet?”
“Polichinelles?”
“Like clowns, but sometimes they’re called gingerbread children.”
He shakes his head and chuckles. “Did you say Mother Ginger?”
“Mmhmm. Why?” I remove both shoes and set them to the side. Picking up my latte, I take a sip.
“Nothing. It’s just funny that Ginger is named Ginger and has a bunch of kids, so I guess it’s like she’s the town’s very own Mother Ginger.”
“Oh my god!” I shriek.
“What?”
“What if that’s it?” I pop up and move across the floor to my coat, digging out the schedule for the competition that’s still there. My pulse quickens as the pieces start to click together.
“What if what’s it?” Everett asks.
Unfolding the paper, I scan the words. I can’t believe I didn’t see this before. It was literally right in front of me the whole fucking time.
“Can you please tell me what’s going on?” he asks.
“Sorry, but I think I figured it out.”
“Figured what out?” His eyes crease and he tips his head as I walk back to join him.
“We’re in The Nutcracker,” I marvel, sitting back down next to him.
Laughter shakes his whole chest.
“I’m sorry?”
“Specifically act two,” I clarify.
“What?”
“We. Are. In. Act. Two. Of. The. Nutcracker.”
He sits up a little straighter and rubs his hands over his face and down his beard.
“Claire, that’s impossible.”
“Says the man who woke up here a few days ago married to me in a place that doesn’t exist on any map anywhere.”
“First, Stella was a witch who trapped us here with crystal magic and now we’re in the—”
“I think we were wrong about that. I think she’s the Sugar Plum Fairy,” I say. “That’s why the crystals didn’t work.”
“And who does that make me then? The Nutcracker?” he asks, sipping his latte.
“Yes.”
Liquid sprays from his mouth. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. And I think that would make me Clara.”
“Forgive me because I’m not too familiar with the ballet, but I don’t remember The Nutcracker and Clara fucking in it.”
Massaging my temples, I breathe in deep and clench my jaw.
“You haven’t fucked me since we’ve been here.”
“No, but we did the night before we got here.”
“Well, technically she does fall asleep with it and the rest is the same.”
“How?”
“For starters, we went to sleep and we woke up in Sugarplum Park, and in the ballet, Clara falls asleep and then they go to the Kingdom of Sweets,” I explain.
Standing up, I move to the stereo and unplug my phone. I begin to tap on the screen and join him back on the floor.
“The shops on Main Street coordinate with the dances in act two, and so does the schedule. See.”
I scoot closer to him, pointing to each dance on my phone screen as I list them. “Chocolate, Coffee, Tea, Candy Canes, Marzipan, Gingerbread, Flowers.”
“I don’t know. It seems a little...” He hesitates. “Far-fetched. Don’t you think?”
“No. I think it’s the only thing that makes sense. What else could ‘spirit of the town’ mean? The town is called Sugarplum Park, and all the stores on Main Street coordinate with the ballet. You said yourself that there is literally a mother named Ginger who lives here.”
“Maybe.”
For fuck’s sake, how is he not getting this?
“Look, I know this ballet really well, and Stella said we needed to lean into the spirit of the town and that she was surprised I hadn’t figured it out. Of the two of us, I’m the only one who could put this together because you’ve never seen the ballet.”
His hazel eyes blink at me, and his mouth parts slightly.
“If it’s The Nutcracker, which I’m pretty certain it is, then we have to finish it to get back to New York.”
“What does that mean?”
“Stella said that we would be judging the competition on Christmas Eve, so I think each time we judge one of the entries we complete a dance.”
“So what? We just start by eating Chip’s peppermint bark and then tick off each dance until we’re done.”
Finally.
“Exactly.”
“Okay, but that would mean we wouldn’t get back until Christmas.”
“I know,” I say, sipping my drink.
“And you’re okay with that?”
“At this point, I just want to get home, so if that means you and I have to spend a little extra time together here, then I think there are worse things.”
“Are you saying you like spending time with me here?” His eyebrow raises.
“Maybe a little.” I hold my hand up, pinching my fingers together.
Sliding toward me, he takes my coffee and puts it to the side with his. He pulls me in between his legs and wraps one of his arms around my back. The other grips the side of my head, helping his lips find mine. Our tongues swirl together, and my whole body ignites.
Pulling back, his hazel eyes bore into me, and I try to catch my breath under his touch.
“You ready to head back to the house?” he asks.
“Yeah, any ideas of what we can do?”
His whole face lights up. “I have a couple,” he says. “Come on.”
We throw our cups away, lock up the studio, and he grabs my hand.
Neither of us says anything, and I find myself liking these quiet moments.
The ones where he’s touching me tenderly.
There’s no pressure to say anything or act a certain way.
No insane schedule occupying all of our time.
We can just be—us. And us is starting to sound really nice.
A little over half-way to the house, Everett lets go of my hand, stops, and crouches down to look at something in the snow.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I’m not sure,” he says, rounding his body over and blocking my view.
“Everett, if it’s a snake—”
“It’s twenty something degrees out here.” The air in front of his mouth freezes into a white puff of smoke as he laughs. “Snakes hate the cold. Relax.”
“Then what are you doing? If it’s an animal or a bug or something, I think it’s best to leave it alone.”
I move to try to see what it is, but he stands. In his hand is a perfectly round snowball, and a wicked grin spreads across his face.
“Don’t you dare,” I say, giggling and backing away from him.
He lets out a low chuckle, tossing the snowball into his other hand. “Come on, Sugar, have a little fun with me.”
“Everett I don’t know your middle name Nuttall, do not start a snowball fight with me because you will surely lose.”
“Is that so?” He brings up his arm, releasing the snowball, and says, “I like my chances.” The cold icy sphere hits me smack in the upper arm, crumbling on my coat.
Grumbling, I bend down to prepare for my counter attack. Carefully, I form a ball, but when I look up to find my target, he’s disappeared, leaving behind a trail of footprints.
“Where did you go?” I call, surveying the snowy landscape. “This isn’t funny. Where are you?” He peeks out from behind a tall spruce tree and attempts to throw another one in my direction but misses completely.
“Ha!” I yell out, running in his direction. He moves away from me, and I throw my snowball, hitting him in the back. “Got you!”
My eyes go wide as he turns around, and I realize he already has three more prepped. I duck behind a tree just as one comes spiraling for me and explodes against the trunk. Working quickly, I build a little arsenal and ready myself to get him back.
He might be a big, strong hockey player, but he underestimated how competitive I can be.
Picking two up, I peek out to see if I spot him. He’s standing out in the open with a smirk painting his face. I attempt to throw one of my snowballs and miss.
Dammit.
He sends both of the ones he’s holding my way, and I duck behind the tree again. The crunch of his boots grows louder as he moves toward me, and my pulse quickens as I anticipate his next move.
Spinning around, I turn to face him with two balls in my hands. “Fuck!” I scream as I run into his toned chest and drop both of my snowballs. “How the hell did you sneak up on me that quick?” I laugh, peering up at him. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Without warning, his hand comes up and he crushes a snowball on top of my head. “I think I win,” he says, chuckling. The icy flakes send a shiver down my spine as they freeze my scalp.
“You’re so dead,” I warn.
“Not if you can’t catch me.” In the blink of an eye, he takes off through the snow and jogs back toward the house.
Sprinting, I chase him, gaining on him quicker than I thought I would.
At the same moment I catch up to him in the front yard, he turns.
Our bodies collide once more, and we fall into the snow together.
My lungs burn from the cold air as I try to catch my breath, but I’m laughing too hard and so is he.
Rolling to face him, his warm eyes find mine, and electricity pulses between us. The snow sticks to his hair and coat, and I run my hand through his brown locks, knocking some of it away.
“Aldrin,” he says, returning the gesture and tucking a fallen strand behind my ear.
“Huh?”
“My middle name is Aldrin. What’s yours?”
“Elise.”
“That’s pretty,” he says, rolling closer to me so that our bodies are snug up against each other. I’m completely lost under his touch. His hand caresses the side of my face, and the other wraps around my back.
“Claire Elise Nuttall, I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispers, causing me to smile.
“Everett Aldrin Nuttall, I was really hoping you would.”
His mouth takes mine in a heated kiss, warming me down to the tips of my toes.
Need builds in my core, overtaking me. I moan into him and roll my body up on top of his. Straddling my legs across his hips, I grind downward. His hands rake through my hair and then move down my back, finding my ass and squeezing it firmly.
“Fuck, I missed this,” he says against me.
I moan as he rotates his hips upward, creating the perfect friction between us.
“Me too,” I pant, before our mouths connect again.
The world around us melts away, and I completely forget where we are. It doesn’t matter—all that matters is that I like the way his hands feel on my body and how his mouth feels on mine.