Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
The Callaghans drifted into another conversation, and I used the moment to breathe, smoothing the front of my dress as I stepped back into the warm pulse of the ballroom.
The air was thick with cinnamon, pine, and the soft, sweet scent of mulled wine.
Hundreds of tiny white lights curled around the rafters like strands of starlight.
Candles glowed from every table, flickering beside tartan ribbons and bowls of sugared cranberries.
It should have felt magical. It did feel magical. But magic had a habit of vanishing the moment reality tapped you on the shoulder.
The mechanic’s words echoed in my head like a bell I couldn’t unring: Good as new. Ready whenever ye need it.
A week ago, Oliver should have been long gone, back to his city, back to his world. The only reason he wasn’t already in London sipping an overpriced coffee was because Pine Hollow had been swallowed by storms. Temporary storms. Passing ones.
And whatever had grown between us, if anything had grown at all, was just as impermanent. A flirtation caught in the snowfall. A spark in a week carved out of bad weather and coincidence. Nothing more.
I tried to convince myself of that as I moved through the hall, smiling at neighbours, answering polite questions, accepting compliments on my dress. But my heart wasn’t listening. It kept turning toward the back of the room, toward where I felt him before I saw him.
Oliver stood near the towering Christmas tree, the golden lights haloing the edges of his suit and catching in his hair. He was speaking to no one, looking nowhere in particular, except when his eyes lifted and found mine.
My breath caught.
I looked away immediately, pretending to focus on a table of mince pies. But my pulse was already racing, betraying me with every beat.
It wasn’t fair. The way he looked at me, the way it made me feel both steadier and more unbalanced all at once. I forced myself toward the drinks table where Ivy appeared out of nowhere, shoving a glass of spiced punch into my hands.
“You okay babes?” she said with a raised brow.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m just thinking,” I corrected.
“About him,” she said flatly.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.
Her voice softened. “You should go and dance, I’m sure your grandmother wouldn’t want you standing here terrified of your own feelings...”
“That’s not what this is.”
She gave me a look that said she wasn’t fooled. Not even a little.
“He’s leaving, Ivy,” I whispered. “As soon as the weather clears, he’ll be on the first flight back to London. This is just… a snowdrift moment. Pretty, distracting, temporary.”
I stared at the glass in my hands, the spices swirling like tiny galaxies.
“And you think pretending none of this matters will protect you?” Ivy asked gently.
“Ivy,” I said. “We barely know each other. This is just pointless.”
She sighed, touched my arm, and nodded toward the tree.
“It’s only pointless if you don’t try.”
Her eyes raised behind me, and I didn’t need to look.
I felt him move through the crowd before I saw him, weaving in a way that told me he didn’t want to interrupt unless he was invited.
Oliver reached us with a polite nod to Ivy before turning his attention to me.
His expression was gentle, almost hesitant, like he knew I might bolt.
“Bri,” he said quietly, “may I have this dance?”
The music had shifted to something slow and warm; a song threaded with violins and soft percussion that curled through my chest like a memory.
Couples were already drifting onto the floor, hands clasped, shoulders touching.
I kept my gaze lowered for a moment, staring at the polished wooden boards reflecting the lights of the chandelier and my heart thudded too loudly in my ears.
He was leaving, of course he was, that was always how this story ended. He was, however, also standing there offering his hand, waiting for me and looking at me like I was someone worth choosing even if it was only for a single dance.
I let out a faint breath. Maybe this was foolish, I should have walked away. This night would only make things harder later. But when I finally lifted my eyes to his, something inside me softened–quietly, helplessly–and all the reasons to say no unravelled before they ever reached my lips.
“Just one,” I said, my voice barely above the music.
His shoulders loosened slightly, the smallest exhale leaving him as if he’d been holding it for minutes. And when he offered his hand again, I placed mine in his, letting him guide me toward the dance floor.
The candles flickered while the violins swelled.
The air between us shifted into something warm and close as he drew me gently into his arms. And even though I kept reminding myself this was temporary…
Even though I told myself over and over that this was fragile and fleeting…
it was impossible not to feel how right it felt, just for tonight, to stop fighting and simply let myself fall into the moment.