Chapter 31
JOY
Iwas still floating on cloud nine the next morning as I measured flour into Aunt Victoria’s mixing bowl, humming “Silver Bells” under my breath without even realizing it.
The kitchen smelled like Christmas. It wasn’t just one scent—it was all of them.
Christmas and home. And happiness. Contentment. My heart was full and it was amazing.
“Someone is in an exceptionally good mood this morning,” my aunt observed, glancing up from where she was separating eggs like she had done it a million times before.
I paused in my measuring, surprised to realize she was right. When had I become someone who hummed while baking? When had the simple act of making sugar cookies start to feel like pure joy instead of just another task to check off a list?
“I guess I am happy,” I admitted, adding the flour to our growing collection of ingredients. “Really happy, actually.”
“And would this happiness have anything to do with a certain tall, blue-eyed, and very handsome fireman who’s been occupying quite a bit of your time lately?”
I didn’t bother denying it. Aunt Victoria had always been able to read me like an open book, and besides, I was too content to be embarrassed about the source of my good mood.
“Cooper did something incredible last night,” I said, unable to keep the wonder out of my voice. “He created this amazing ice sculpture for the festival—a Christmas tree made entirely of ice with lights embedded inside. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
She paused in her egg-separating to look at me with raised eyebrows. “He made you an ice sculpture? How romantic is that?”
“That’s just it. It wasn’t just romantic.
It was thoughtful and creative and completely unexpected.
” I set down the measuring cup and leaned against the counter, remembering the moment when Cooper had flipped that switch and the tree had bloomed with light.
“He saw a problem that was bothering me—this empty space at the festival that I couldn’t figure out how to fill—and he didn’t just solve it. He created something special.”
She cracked another egg, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “That sounds like Cooper. He’s always been one to go above and beyond when someone he cares about needs help.”
“He hides it well,” I said, thinking about Cooper’s gruff exterior and careful professionalism. “But underneath all that practical attitude and safety consciousness, there’s an incredibly romantic soul.”
“Oh, honey, that’s exactly why Lynn destroyed him so badly.”
The casual comment hit me like a slap. I’d heard references to Cooper’s ex-fiancée before, but her words carried a weight that suggested she knew more about that relationship than I did. I had been too afraid to ask. Lynn had been my friend, and it killed me to think of him with her.
“What do you mean?” I asked carefully.
She was quiet for a moment, seeming to weigh her words.
“Cooper has always been the kind of man who believes in love—real, deep, forever kind of love. When he commits to someone, he does it with his whole heart. Lynn?” She shook her head, her expression sad.
“Lynn saw that devotion as weakness instead of strength. She tried to steal that capacity for love from him, piece by piece.”
I felt something cold settle in my stomach. “How do you know all this?”
“Small town, honey. And age that gives me wisdom and eyeballs to see a bigger picture than what is on the surface.” She began creaming butter and sugar.
“We watched that boy give everything he had to Lynn, and we watched her slowly convince him that his caring was suffocating, his romantic gestures were too much, his love was somehow deficient.”
The picture she was painting made my chest ache. Cooper, who had spent hours in the freezing cold creating something beautiful just because he knew it would make me happy, being told his gestures were too much?
“That’s why he’s so careful now,” I said, understanding flooding through me. “Why he seems surprised when people appreciate his thoughtfulness.”
“Exactly. That man is tougher than a two-dollar steak when it comes to physical challenges. I swear he could wrestle a reindeer if he had to. But a heart once broken is easily cracked again. It’s best you remember that.”
The warning was delivered with love, but it was a warning nonetheless. She was telling me to be careful with Cooper. She was protective of him. That was sweet. I liked that he had a town full of loving family looking out for him even if they weren’t blood related.
“I would never hurt him,” I said quietly.
“Not intentionally, no. But, Joy, honey, that brings up another question.” She stopped mixing and looked at me directly.
“Are you planning on sticking around? Because if you’re not sure about staying in Calton Hill long term, you need to think very carefully about how deep you let this thing with Cooper go. ”
The question I had been avoiding crystallized in the warm kitchen air. Was I staying? The honest answer was that I didn’t know about forever. My life had been in flux for months, and making permanent decisions still felt premature.
“I don’t know about long term,” I said slowly. “But right now, Calton Hill is exactly where I want to be. Right now, I can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else.”
She studied my face like she was trying to read my thoughts. After a long ten seconds, she nodded with apparent satisfaction. “Right now is a good place to start.”
We kept prepping the cookies. As the first batch came out of the oven, golden and perfect, I found myself thinking about Cooper and wondering what he was doing with his afternoon.
“Aunt Victoria, would you mind if I took some of these over to Cooper? I have an idea.”
Her smile was knowing and fond. “Take as many as you want, sweetheart. I have more than enough for the senior center.”
An hour later, I stood on Cooper’s front porch with a plate of still-warm cookies, suddenly nervous in a way that seemed ridiculous. We’d been intimate, we’d spent the night together, we’d worked side by side for weeks. Why was I nervous about bringing him cookies?
Maybe because this felt different. More domestic, more deliberately romantic. This wasn’t about festival planning or getting snowed in or solving practical problems. This was just me wanting to spend time with him. I just wanted to hang out. Period.
Cooper answered the door looking deliciously rumpled in jeans and a gray sweater, his hair still showing signs of sleep despite the fact that it was well past noon.
“Joy,” he said, surprise and pleasure evident in his voice. “This is unexpected.”
“I brought cookies,” I said, holding up the plate like an offering. “And I have a demand to make.”
His eyebrows rose with amusement. “A demand? Should I be worried?”
“Probably. I’m insisting that you watch a Christmas movie with me. Right now. No arguments.”
Cooper looked at me with amusement. “And if I refuse?”
“Then I’ll eat all these cookies myself and tell everyone at the fire station that you’re a Christmas Grinch who refuses to watch holiday movies with beautiful women.”
“Beautiful women, huh?” His mouth quirked up in what was almost a smile. “Well, when you put it like that, I suppose I don’t have much choice.”
He stepped aside to let me in.
“What movie did you have in mind?” he asked, following me toward the living room.
“White Christmas,” I said without hesitation. “The Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye version. It’s a classic.”
“I should have known you’d pick something with singing and dancing,” Cooper said, but there was affection in his tone. “I suppose I can endure that for homemade cookies.”
“Such a sacrifice,” I said with mock sympathy, settling onto his couch and patting the cushion beside me. “Come on, time to discover the joy of classic Christmas cinema.”
Cooper disappeared into the kitchen, returning with two glasses of milk and a slightly bemused expression. “I can’t remember the last time I watched a Christmas movie,” he admitted as he settled beside me.
“Then you’re long overdue.”
As the opening credits rolled, I found myself less interested in the movie than in Cooper’s reactions to it.
He started out clearly humoring me, wearing the patient expression of someone enduring something for the sake of good manners.
But gradually, I watched him get drawn into the story despite himself.
“The dancing is actually pretty impressive,” he admitted.
“Danny Kaye was incredibly talented,” I agreed, pleased that he was engaging with the film. “Most people don’t realize how athletic those old Hollywood dance routines were.”
By the time we reached “White Christmas” itself, the final number where Bing Crosby surprises the general with a full theater of grateful soldiers, Cooper had gone completely quiet beside me. I glanced over to find him watching with unexpected intensity.
“You okay?” I asked softly.
“It’s just…” He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. “The idea of doing something that meaningful for someone who’s given so much. That kind of gratitude and respect.”
The emotion in his voice caught me off guard. This was Cooper at his most vulnerable, moved by a story about loyalty and sacrifice and the importance of honoring those who serve others. It was exactly the kind of thing that would resonate with someone who dedicated his life to helping people.
Without thinking, I shifted closer to him on the couch, tucking myself against his side. His arm came around me automatically, pulling me closer. I felt him press a gentle kiss to the top of my head.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
“For what?”
“For making me watch this. For the cookies. For…” He trailed off, but I thought I understood what he meant. For caring enough to share something that mattered to me. For wanting to spend a lazy afternoon with him. For all the small gestures that added up to something larger.
“Thank you for letting me,” I replied, settling more comfortably against his chest.
As the credits rolled, neither of us made any move to get up.
We stayed curled together on Cooper’s couch.
For the first time in longer than I could remember, everything in my life felt exactly right.
No anxiety about the future, no regret about the past, no urgency to be anywhere other than exactly where I was.
Just Cooper’s arms around me.
“Joy?” Cooper’s voice was soft, almost drowsy.
“Mmm?”
“This is nice.”
I smiled against his chest, thinking about how such a simple statement could contain so much truth. “Yeah,” I agreed. “It really is.”