Chapter 35 Nyah
NYAH
Iwasn’t sure I had room for three more courses when the waiter cleared our fourth. I leaned back slightly in my chair, pleasantly full, warm in that languid way that came from good food, good wine, and Caleb’s hand still tethered to mine.
“The seventh is a cocktail, ma’am,” the waiter said smoothly, “and the dessert is very light. If you would like a break before the next course, though, you might enjoy the cognac bar out on the terrace.”
I followed the direction he indicated, peering past the room behind me, where one of the other couples, already bundled in thick winter coats, lounged on a plush settee beyond the glass. Snow drifted lazily outside, the flakes catching the light.
“Outside?” I asked incredulously. “It’s below freezing.” As if to punctuate the point, I noticed the snowfall had just begun in earnest.
“We can borrow coats,” Caleb said easily, nodding toward a rack by the sliding door. Several of the coats were long enough to cover my legs, which I appreciated more than I wanted to admit.
“Gloves and boots as well, sir,” the waiter added. “It’s a lovely way to enjoy cognac.”
“Let’s do it,” Caleb said without hesitation, squeezing my hand.
I felt a flutter in my chest at how readily he said yes to experiences, to moments, to us.
Since the Lovers’ Embrace had been placed around our wrists, we hadn’t let go once.
Eating had been surprisingly manageable—his being left-handed meant our dominant hands were free, a small mercy that felt oddly symbolic.
I shrugged lightly. “I’m game if you are.”
We rose awkwardly, laughing as I had to do a ballroom-inspired twirl to keep our joined hands from tangling. Following the waiter to the coat rack, Caleb lifted our bound wrists slightly. “We may need to make a brief exception to get the coats on.”
“Not me,” I said, slipping my free arm into a long coat the waiter held out. I let him drape the other side over my bare shoulder. “I grew up in Manitoba. This is practically balmy.”
Caleb shook his head, a smile tugging at his mouth. “You’re crazy.”
“I’m crazy?” I laughed, stepping out of my heels and into a pair of fluffy white snow boots. “I’m not the one who paid to have our hands tied together.”
He surrendered with good humour, wearing his coat the same way I did—one arm in, the other draped loosely over his shoulder.
“Gloves, ma’am?” the waiter asked, holding out a pair of elegant, fur-lined gloves. “The fur is sustainably sourced from New Zealand.”
I let him help me into them while Caleb managed his own, both of us trying not to wrestle for control of our shared wrists. The gloves were absurdly warm, like slipping my hands into a purring cat.
“Ready?” Caleb asked. “No hat?”
I touched a gloved palm to my still-perfect chignon. “If you saw the number of pins Lakshmi used to create this—”
“And it’s beautiful,” he paused, swallowing. “You are amazingly beautiful. I’m honestly pinching myself that you chose to spend Valentine’s Day with me.”
“You’re looking very handsome yourself,” I replied.
For a heartbeat, it felt like this might be it—our moment, our first kiss, framed by falling snow and anticipation.
But the moment passed before I could lean into it.
I masked the loss with movement, tugging the loose side of his coat across his chest. “And I’m deeply jealous that you achieved it without two hours of prep and a team of four. ”
He laughed, sliding the door open, and together we stepped out into the cold. The barman, bundled and gloved, handed us snifters of cognac. The terrace was covered and dry, snow swirling just beyond the railing like something conjured for effect.
A couple in their thirties sat close together on a settee nearby. The man lifted his glass toward us. “Hail, fellow winter travellers. Will you join us?”
We ventured over, synchronizing our movements instinctively, and settled onto the settee opposite them.
They introduced themselves as Ginny and Paul MacDonald. “I see you received the gift,” Ginny said, nodding at the colourful band circling our wrists. “Paul voted for that one. I preferred the matching gold pendants.” She touched her throat. “They interlock into a heart.”
“Well, thank you anyway,” I said, lifting our joined hands. “It’s been…”
“Interesting,” Caleb finished for me.
Paul chuckled. “Interesting is good for a first date. And I think you’ve got romantic covered.” He gestured broadly at the terrace and restaurant beyond.
“It’s very romantic,” I said, sharing a look with Caleb. “I need to thank whoever organized it.”
“I wish I could take credit,” Paul said, “but it found us. An invitation in the mailbox yesterday. Happy tenth anniversary—here’s your free five-star dinner.”
“It’s the same with everyone,” Ginny added. “We don’t even know who paid.”
“It’s a mystery,” I said, squeezing Caleb’s hand to let him know I wouldn’t embarrass him by revealing his generosity. “So, ten years. What is that, China? Crystal?”
“Tin,” Ginny said. “Not very romantic.”
“The modern gift for ten years is onyx, apparently,” Paul said. He pulled open the neck of his warm coat to show a black onyx lapel pin on his jacket. “They gave us these when we arrived tonight.”
Ginny showed hers—a larger, oval-shaped onyx brooch. “That grey-haired lady pinned a gold one on her husband.”
“I’d love to know who was paying,” Paul said. “I’d shake their hand and then slap them upside the head for spending so much money.”
“I think it’s sweet,” Ginny replied. “We haven’t done anything this indulgent since before the kids.”
Paul shrugged. “It was probably your parents entering us into one of those radio competitions. I’ll be nice to them just in case.”
Ginny slapped his leg playfully. “We should go back inside and let these lovebirds enjoy their date alone.”
After a few more laughs, they excused themselves, leaving us alone.
“Let’s stand by the railing,” I said. “I want to look at the lights.”
Caleb stepped beside me, but I lifted our joined hands and twirled, wrapping his arm around me. He followed without hesitation, closing the other arm around my waist and pulling me close.
Snow settled softly in my hair as I sipped my cognac. “You paid for all this, didn’t you?”
He laughed. “I didn’t know about the gifts. I probably should have set a budget.” He hugged me tighter. “I told them I didn’t care how they did it, I wanted you to be swept off your feet. Silly waste of money when you think about it.”
“Really?”
He turned me to face him, pressing our clasped hands to his chest. “You swept me off my feet months ago.”
Time stopped as we seemed suspended in a motionless cloud of snowflakes.
Even in the frigid outdoors, warmth swept over my body, setting it alight.
I didn’t even see it coming—the moment I’d anticipated for weeks and had obsessed over most of the day at work.
One second, I was drowning in Caleb’s blue-green eyes, and the next, my lips were on his.
Finally, breathtakingly, it was our first kiss.
In the freezing cold of Vancouver’s winter, I was aflame.
Love and yearning for the man in my arms swept through my core, setting alight every sense.
Stars burst behind my lidded eyes. The scent of Caleb’s cologne teased me—leather and tea and something earthy that evoked memories of the Rockies in fall.
Never allowing our lips to part, I peeled off one glove to touch his face, to feel the prickle of stubble beneath my fingertips.
His skin was cold, but the electric current between us burned.
My knees buckled as my body melted into his, but Caleb held me strongly, with just one arm around my waist. The kiss finally waned, but the moment remained suspended, noses touching, lips still brushing, the mist of our combined breath swirling between us.
After an eternity of staring into each other’s eyes, Caleb asked, “Are you ready to go back inside for the next course?”
“Not yet,” I said, brushing my smooth cheek against the roughness of his. “I’m not finished with this one.”
And with snow drifting down around us, I closed my eyes, touched my lips to his, and cast myself adrift into the endless ocean of love I felt for the man in my arms.
I watched as the ma?tre d’ cleared our dessert just as the second-to-last couple rose from their table and took their leave.
“Mademoiselle, monsieur,” he said smoothly, “the final course is a Valentine’s cocktail—a Love Potion Martini.
I’ll bring it out in just a minute. Meanwhile—” He produced two small leather-bound billfolds, which I initially mistook for the check.
“Your fellow diners have written greetings to help commemorate the evening.”
For a second, I simply stared at them, my brain struggling to catch up. “Um, thank you,” I said finally, accepting mine. I waited until he had disappeared with the dessert dishes before leaning closer to Caleb. “Did you know about this?”
He shook his head.
I opened the billfold.
An assortment of Valentine’s postcards inside—romantic illustrations on one side, handwritten notes on the other.
“‘To the lovebirds on table one,’” I read from the first card I picked up.
“‘Herb told me off for spying, but I’m not ashamed to say I saw you kiss outside.’” Heat rushed to my face as I realized Caleb was watching me, not the card.
I swallowed and continued. “‘It reminded me of my wedding day all those years ago. Thank you for a lovely memory. Alice Tremblay.’”
“That’s sweet,” Caleb said softly. “That was the fiftieth-anniversary couple, wasn’t it?”
I nodded and slid the card to the bottom of the stack, suddenly aware of how full my heart felt.
The pianist began packing up in the corner as I turned over the second card—a playful note from the engaged couple, joking that if we ever wanted that wristband off, we’d have to let go of each other first.
The ma?tre d’ returned just long enough to set our cocktails on the table before retreating again.