Chapter 15 Snowglobe Magic #2
“After the call, I just wandered the streets into the night. I couldn’t think straight.
” His eyes drifted off, remembering. “Finally, I ended up passing this tiny restaurant with the most delicious, fragrant smells coming from it. The place was so inviting, like calling to me, offering a warm hug. One minute I was walking; the next I’d stepped inside, taking a table near the back for a late-night meal. ”
“What did you eat?”
“I remember every detail, starting with morel mushroom vol-au-vent with truffle cream. Simple. Thoughtful. Balanced in a way that hit me right in the ribs that night. Then I tried the poulet with truffle cream sauce, and the braised beef. Each bite felt designed, calling forth all of my senses from smell to taste to texture, deliberately, as if to remind me that life goes on.” He swallowed. “I dedicated that meal to Dad.”
A shiver lit through me, familiarity taking hold.
“When I finished, I asked who the chef was. I needed to tell them it was the absolute best meal of my life, that it warmed my heart. You know what the garcon told me?” His gaze returned to mine, and he leaned in slightly. “Her name was Lilah Childs.”
“You were in Mère et Fille?” My breath caught, picturing the hole-in-the-wall restaurant of the French Alps, where I’d worked for a short time, and created that exact menu Holden had eaten.
He nodded. “Like a coward though, I left the restaurant before you saw me. I had often wondered about you after your ruined wedding day, if you’d recovered from the disappointment.
The serendipity of it all wasn’t lost on me.
I thought hell, fate was screwing with me.
Because the meal that made me want to change my life came from the same woman whose life had been messed up years ago. ”
I stared at him, stunned and speechless.
“I’m not sure if that makes everything weird or poetic between us, Lilah.
But ever since my accident and losing my dream of going for the gold, I wandered through life merely existing, a playboy with no direction.
But that night at Mère et Fille changed something in me.
I knew I wanted to take my life more seriously.
Build a legacy. Buy a damn mountain.” He spread his arms wide and chuckled.
“More importantly, build a place where someone like you could create the sort of magic with food that touched people’s hearts.
And I kept thinking… What if I could build something worthy of Lilah? ”
Tears threatened my eyes. Heat shot through me, and not just the romantic kind, but deep and vulnerable, cracking me in two from the inside out.
“From that moment on, I kept tabs on you, hoping one day I’d build a restaurant and you’d come work for me. That I’d make right how you were sorely wronged because I believe you need to be regarded as one of the best chefs on the globe.”
The tears fell. I brought my napkin to my eyes and swallowed around the sudden ache in my chest. Before I could respond, as if I even knew what to say, he came around to my side and gathered me in his arms.
“Lilah, I didn’t mean to make you cry. To me, that was a happy story, one that gave me my life back, with purpose and a passion. And you too, it seems.” He wiped my tears. “Please don’t cry, Frosty.”
“Your story is almost too good to believe.” My fingers fisted the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to me. Our mouths met, eager and hungry and grateful all at once.
By the time we broke apart, breathless, my knees jelly, my brain had no logical words to explain any of this.
He brushed his thumb across my lips. “Come have a drink with me.”
“I should do the dishes and wash—”
“No, you shouldn’t.” A sexy grin slid across his face. “Come on, Frosty. We don’t have much time left before the world crashes in on us. Let’s not waste it doing dishes.”
I couldn’t argue with that, but we at least cleared the dishes to the sink in the kitchen. He excused himself to get something from his office.
I waited for him in the library and selected a playlist—another set of jazzy, cozy versions of holiday songs. At our little tree, I admired his handiwork, smiling again at his personal touches with the ornaments from his vending machine raid.
When he entered, he carried a bottle with him. “One of the last bottles of Scotch from my father’s private collection,” he explained. He stoked the fire, getting it toasty with flickering flames, and then he poured us drinks in proper crystal tumblers.
“I’d been keeping this bottle in the office to open and drink with my brothers this New Year’s Day. But tonight, I want the first drink with you.”
“Holden, are you sure? That’s so special.” I took the glass he offered.
“To dreams,” he said, clinking mine.
“To making them come true,” I added and sipped. The liquid soothed my soul as it went down, numbing my limbs as it fed through my bloodstream.
We sank onto the couch next to each other under a shared blanket. I rested my head on his shoulder, thinking about everything he had told me. The entire story was almost unbelievable, how a deeper thread of connection existed between us, regardless of our fling status.
He softly hummed in my ear, and then sang various carols as they played.
I enjoyed his voice, a smooth baritone that could lull me to sleep if I wasn’t careful.
When Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas came on, he pulled me up into his arms. By the fire, we swayed to the slow song, my head beneath his chin.
The space between us turned hopelessly romantic.
He whispered, “What are you doing for New Year’s? It’s not just opening day, but my birthday, you know. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather be with than you.”
“I could meet you at midnight on New Year’s Eve, and be your first kiss of the New Year,” I offered.
“Perfect.” His lips drifted to mine.
My heart could burst, filled so full it scared me, trusting Holden to be the man I’d always dreamed someone could be for me. But what if this was all an illusion of Christmas magic, and I was on the verge of making a mistake as big as the one I’d made with Brad?
The past couple of days with Holden seemed like a dream now, like I lived in a snow globe, inside a Christmasy snowed-in fantasy with a wealthy playboy who had taken life by storm and dragged me right along with him.
Only tomorrow, real life would shake the globe up.
We said we’d continue things between us, but what if it was all too good to be true?