Chapter 27
“Willow.”
At the voice suddenly next to her, Willow looked up from the inventory database she’d been updating with incoming supply information.
Celeste stood in front of her desk, tablet in hand.
Willow jumped. “If this is about the shredder…”
Her boss’s brow creased. “What’s wrong with the shredder?”
So it wasn’t about that…or, most likely, about the printer she had managed to jam three times this week, all because Willow’s emotions had been completely out of whack.
She had tried to fix the devices herself rather than submit a ticket to IT, not yet ready to face Scottie.
“Oh, nothing,” she said quickly. “What can I do for you?”
“I noticed you still haven’t hung your snowflake.”
Willow blinked. “Pardon me?”
“The snowflake for the tree in the lobby.” Celeste gestured at the still-blank paper snowflake on Willow’s desk.
“It might not seem like the most effective use of your time or serve any obvious purpose, but we’ve been hanging snowflakes every holiday season for several years now, and following tradition builds company culture and is good for cohesion. ”
Willow bit back a smile. Leave it to her boss to make hanging a paper snowflake seem like a reasonable strategy to increase productivity. “Oh, right. I’ve been meaning to hang it.”
“Please make sure it’s up by the end of the workday,” Celeste said. “Our management team expects the tree to be finished before the holiday party tomorrow.”
“Of course. I’ll do it right away.”
Celeste gave her a crisp nod and strode back to her desk.
Willow picked up the snowflake and turned it over in her hands.
The paper caught against the new calluses on her fingertips.
One side shimmered silver, while the other was made of white paper.
Every employee was supposed to write a wish for the next year on the snowflake and hang it on the company Christmas tree in the lobby.
She grabbed a pen, then hesitated. Truth be told, she hadn’t forgotten to hang her snowflake; she had been avoiding it all week, while her colleagues added their wishes to the tree.
What was she supposed to write? There was only one thing she could think of, but she could never have it, even if she filled out an entire avalanche of snowflakes.
She’d always tried to be content with her life the way it was and not wish for impossible things.
But lately, that resolve had started to waver. Ever since her second practice date with Scottie last week, stray what-if thoughts had kept slipping through the cracks.
What if she and Scottie would go on a third date—a real one?
What if she could take Scottie’s hand again—this time, without letting go once they were alone, no longer being observed?
And what if Scottie leaned in at the door again, not for a brush of lips on her cheek but for a kiss that left Willow dizzy and made her forget the reason she’d kept a careful distance?
The snowflake with its empty paper side had taunted her all week because deep down, she knew exactly what she longed to wish for. What she wanted most was more time with Scottie, more moments where they were laughing together, holding hands, more kisses to her cheek…her lips…every inch of her body.
Heat swirled through her, and she roughly shook her head, chasing off the very much not work-appropriate thoughts. She couldn’t write any of that on a piece of paper that would be hung on the company Christmas tree. Scottie’s name couldn’t appear anywhere because Scottie might be reading it.
Other than Scottie, what else did she want?
What she wanted most of all was to stop feeling as if she was too much, as if her life was always about to go off the rails, as if she destroyed everything she touched—devices and relationships.
Her pen hovered over the paper side of the snowflake. Then, without allowing herself time to reconsider, she scribbled Be normal.
She stared at the two words on her snowflake. She wanted to crumple it up and ask Celeste for a blank one, but she knew it would only call attention to her.
Be normal. Okay, that was generic enough that no one would know what it was really about—or that it was her wish.
She would sneak down to the lobby, hang her snowflake, and get back to her desk before anyone even noticed she’d been gone. Willow grabbed the piece of paper and made her way to the lobby to hang her impossible wish.
~ ~ ~
When Scottie stepped off the elevator, the scent of pine greeted her.
The company Christmas tree towered in the center of the lobby.
Strings of lights in red and blue—Kudos’s brand colors—twinkled on its branches.
Dozens of paper snowflakes added a homemade charm to the corporate display.
At the very top, a large star made of faceted acrylic caught the light and scattered it in tiny rainbows across the polished floor.
After the incident a few years ago—when the crystal tree topper had fallen off and hit their former COO on the head—they had opted for something shatterproof.
Scottie walked up to the tree, still not sure what to put on her snowflake.
Six months ago, she would have filled the blank space without hesitation. Her wish would have been obvious: heal—start over after Tanya had torn her life apart and figure out who she was after her ten-year relationship had gone up in flames.
But that had been then. Now that ache in her chest was barely noticeable anymore. She had seen Tanya at the bar, and it hadn’t gutted her the way she had feared it would. The shards of her life had begun to fuse back together.
Which left her in need of a different wish.
She scanned the snowflakes on the tree for some inspiration.
A new car.
Buy a house.
Go to Bali.
Receive a raise.
Run a marathon.
Have a baby.
All good wishes, but none of them fit her.
If she was being honest, she knew what she wanted to write. She could sum up her wish in six letters: Willow.
She wanted to date her for real.
But did she have a right to wish for that when it was obviously not what Willow wanted?
It had been a week since Willow had bolted from her front door and disappeared into the night. Scottie hadn’t heard from her since then—no texts, no accidental run-ins in the elevator or the coffee shop, not even an IT ticket.
Scottie had been tempted to reach out at least a dozen times every day, but she had stopped herself, not wanting to pressure Willow. The next move had to be Willow’s. But she hadn’t contacted Scottie.
Had Scottie overstepped a boundary? The thought made her stomach churn.
Scottie hadn’t planned the kiss on the cheek that had made Willow run.
She had been so full of gratitude that a simple thank-you hadn’t seemed like enough.
Because Willow was a huge part of why she was starting to heal.
She’d made her feel as if she was enough after all.
Scottie even believed her now when Willow said her reluctance to date had nothing to do with Scottie.
It wasn’t that she was lacking anything, even if Tanya thought differently.
So she’d leaned in and brushed her lips against Willow’s cheek.
Even a week later, Scottie could still feel Willow’s warm skin and the heat emanating from her as Willow blushed.
But then cold had rushed in when Willow had fled.
Scottie sighed. She wouldn’t solve this problem standing in the middle of the lobby. Maybe she needed to text Willow anyway.
But first, she had to fill out her snowflake before her manager kicked her ass for putting it off again.
She walked over to the reception desk, borrowed a pen from the receptionist, and twirled it between her fingers for a few moments. Then she wrote Be enough on her snowflake.
Not enough to make Willow want a relationship with her…even though, truth be told, she still wanted that.
But she needed to believe that even if she was single, she was not the discarded half of a couple. She was whole by herself, just as she was.
After adding an exclamation mark, she handed the pen back and returned to the tree. She had just raised herself up on her tiptoes to reach the branch she wanted when the elevator chimed behind her.
Scottie glanced over her shoulder—and sank back onto her heels.
Willow got out of the elevator. In a black midi skirt, tights, a formfitting burgundy turtleneck, and ankle boots, she looked as beautiful as ever. She clutched a snowflake of her own.
Their gazes met across the lobby.
For a moment, Willow’s steps faltered, as if she wanted to retreat into the elevator. Then she pulled back her shoulders, gave Scottie a faint smile, and walked toward her.
~ ~ ~
Willow barely made it out of the elevator before stumbling to a stop.
Scottie stood in the middle of the lobby, staring at her from in front of the Christmas tree.
The acrylic star that topped the tree painted a rainbow of lights across her hair.
God, she looked good in a long-sleeved black company polo, the sleeves casually pushed up to her elbows. Maybe a little tired, as if she had slept as badly the past few days as Willow had.
Willow slowly walked toward her, not yet sure what she would say once she reached her.
After she’d realized she wanted to date Scottie for real, the earlier ease between them was gone.
“Hi,” they both said at the same time.
Scottie shifted her weight and nodded at Willow’s paper snowflake, then at the one she held. “Guess I’m not the only one who’s running late on this.”
Willow wanted so badly to see what Scottie had written. Did her wish have anything to do with her?
But if she glanced at Scottie’s snowflake, it was an invitation for Scottie to look at hers. The urge to find out what Scottie had wished for was strong, yet the need to protect her own secret was even stronger.
For a moment, they both stood still, neither making a move to hang her snowflake while the other was watching. Then, as if by an unspoken agreement, they circled to opposite sides of the tree to give each other privacy.