Chapter 22
TWINKLING LIGHTS & HOT CHOCOLATE
FLETCHER
This was a perfect idea. I’ll have to thank Grace tomorrow when I send an update in the Operation Ruin The Friendship group chat. Seeing her eyes light up with the realization of where we were was like a shot of joy straight to my heart. And now, our hands are entwined. I never want to let her go.
I show our tickets at the entrance, and once we are through the gate, it’s like stepping into a completely different world.
Lights are strung up on trees, with giant ornaments hanging from branches.
A photo op is set to our right, complete with a large red sleigh and a Santa performer sitting inside, taking photos with kids and families.
I glance down at Lydia, taking in the look of childlike wonder on her face. Her mouth is slightly agape, her blue eyes brimming with delight. I know this was the right choice.
“Where to?” I gesture to the food trucks to our left. “We could get some snacks and hot cocoa, or we could go through the light trail and get snacks after.”
“After,” Lydia responds without hesitation, her excitement palpable as she tugs me toward the lights.
“Perfect.” I turn us to the right, following a small group.
One of the perks of having a bizarre schedule is that there aren’t as many people here on a Tuesday night as there would be on a Friday or Saturday. Lydia works a later morning shift tomorrow, so it worked well that she was willing to be out a little later than normal on a weeknight.
She and I meander down the trail, taking everything in. We don’t speak much outside of pointing out a specific ornament or decoration, but there’s no need for words right now.
There’s a tunnel ahead, illuminating the world in sparkling white light.
We stop at the same time, looking up at the display, and I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her close.
She rests her palm on my chest. Her hand is cool through my sweater, and I realize I should have brought her mittens. How could I forget?
“Are you cold?” I ask when a light wind sends a chill down my spine. I look down at her pink cheeks.
Lydia doesn’t answer my question as she’s so enthralled by the beauty surrounding us.
I only see her.
The lights shimmer all around us, people talk nearby, but my focus resides solely on her. She’s enchanted me. The light she brings to my life is something I could never survive without.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” she asks as she stares up at the lights, her voice breathy and in awe.
“Yeah.” But my gaze never leaves her.
When she breaks away from the lights to look up at me, I nearly drop to my knees to beg her to never leave. If this plan doesn’t work, I don’t know what I’ll do. But with the way she’s looking at me, I think I have a shot.
We stare at each other for a long moment, only breaking apart when someone walks by us and nearly trips over a hard chunk of snow on the path.
I clear my throat and kick at some of the snow at my feet. Once the person is gone, we’re left in a weird silence.
Chuckling awkwardly, I say the first thing that comes to my mind. “This would be a great place for a first kiss. The lights are so pretty.”
I don’t mean anything by it, but color me surprised when Lydia perks up on her tiptoes and presses her cold lips to my cheek.
She smirks. “I agree.”
I can’t stop the smile that breaks out on my lips or the heat flaring in my cheeks as I bend down to kiss her cheek in return. Only she turns slightly, so my lips catch the corner of hers.
I pull away, the heat burning my cheeks even hotter now.
Lydia’s breath catches, her pupils dilating, and she touches the corner of her mouth where my lips were.
I’m not ready for our first official kiss yet. I have something special planned for that.
“Are you cold?” I ask again, staring at her fingers caressing her lips.
“No.” She shakes her head and drops her hand to her side. “I’m fine.”
“Where are your mittens?” I cup my hands around hers and lift them to my lips, blowing hot air into the space.
Our eyes lock. Lydia’s breath catches. My heart pounds in my chest, threatening to burst from the perfection that is her. Her eyes widen ever so slightly, brows raising.
After she composes herself, she says, “I think they’re in my pocket.” She pulls her hands free, digging in her pockets. When she comes up empty, she shrugs. “I must have forgotten them on the coffee table. It’s no biggie. I’m not cold.”
“The icicles you call fingers beg to differ.” I take her cold hands again. In her defense, I also forgot mittens, but I’m always more focused on her. Besides, I practically live on ice. Cold runs through my blood.
I rub our hands together to create friction. “We can’t have you cold.”
She laughs softly. “I promise, I’m fine. I want to keep exploring, and we can’t do that with my hands held captive. I’ll put them in my pockets.”
“At least give me one of your hands.” I let go of both of hers to offer one of mine.
She takes my left hand in her right, tucking her left hand into the pocket of her jacket. I rub my thumb over her skin, using the friction to keep her warm.
Before we continue, I fix her hat so it covers her ears again. “There. Now we can go.”
I don’t miss the twinkle in her eyes as we turn and continue our journey through the winter wonderland.
Once we’ve made our way through every trail and light show, we head back to the main area, and I sit Lydia down in front of the bonfire to warm up. No matter how many times she’s told me she’s not cold, I saw her shiver more than once.
I grab us hot chocolates with whipped cream and some warm chocolate chip cookies. When I sit next to her and pass her the hot cup, she smiles as if I’ve just given her the world. “This smells amazing.”
Her comment reminds me of something I keep forgetting to ask her. “Have you had any weird cravings? I remember when my sister was pregnant, she would eat the weirdest things. Once, her husband caught her eating a pickle covered in chives, sour cream, and mustard. It was gross.”
Lydia laughs. “No, nothing outlandish yet.”
“But you have had cravings?”
She nods as she takes a sip of the hot chocolate. I wish she’d told me, so I could have provided them. The whipped cream sticks to her top lip, and I don’t hold myself back from swiping it off her skin and licking it from my thumb.
Her pupils dilate.
I probably shouldn’t have done that.
“Sorry,” I mutter with a laugh.
She shakes her head, a soft smile twitching on her lips. “No reason to be sorry.”
“What have you been craving?”
“Popcorn. But not just any popcorn. The popcorn from the arena. It’s the best. The perfect mix of salty and buttery.” Her words drift off into a sigh. “I’m going to have to start coming to every single game so I can get some.”
I laugh and take a sip of my hot drink. The chocolate flavor is rich and definitely homemade, and not from a powder. It’s amazing. I withhold the groan rising in my chest.
“This might be my next craving, though,” Lydia says as she takes another drink. She practically melts. “So good.”
“I’ll go see if I can get the recipe.” I stand, ignoring her protests as I head back to the food truck.
The teen at the register has a brief look of panic on his face as I stride up to him, probably scared that something is wrong with the drink and I’m about to ream him a new one.
“Hey man,” I say. “What are the chances I can get the recipe for this hot chocolate?”
His eyes go round as he gets a second look at me. “You’re Fletcher Graff,” he says with a shaky voice.
“In the flesh.” I chuckle.
This may work in my favor.
His name tag reads Dylan.
“You a hockey fan?”
He nods rapidly. “Yeah. I watch every game I can.”
“Do you play, Dylan?”
He nods again, eyes growing even wider at my use of his first name. “Yeah. I work here at my grandpa’s booth so I can put money toward my gear and stuff.”
“Hard worker, love to hear it,” I answer wholeheartedly. “What position?”
“Goalie.” He grimaces. “My aunt works two jobs so I can play and join the private leagues.”
Yeah, no wonder. Being a goalie is expensive as heck.
An idea pops into my mind. “What would you say to a deal? If you give me the hot chocolate recipe, I’ll see what I can do to get you a private lesson at the arena with Aadland and me.”
The kid is at a complete loss for words, his jaw on the floor until an older man steps up behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder.
“Everything alright here?” he asks.
“Perfect,” I respond. “My—uh—”
How do I refer to Lydia? She’s my best friend, of course, but things are starting to blur, and I’m not about to reveal that she’s pregnant to strangers. Who knows what kind of weird headline might come from that?
“My friend. She really, really loves the hot chocolate here, and I was wondering if I could get the recipe. I offered Dylan a deal.”
“A deal?” the old man asks warily.
“It’s Fletcher Graff, Grandpa.” Dylan gestures to me, still in shock. When his grandpa doesn’t connect the dots, Dylan groans. “From the Minnesota Blue Herons. The captain!”
His grandpa’s eyes widen, and his eyebrows lift, so I offer an awkward wave.
“We’d be happy to give you the recipe. You don’t need to do a lesson,” he says, waving a hand.
Dylan groans in disdain. “A private lesson, Grandpa!”
The older man is already searching for a pad and pen to write down the recipe while I pull out my phone. “Give me your aunt’s phone number, and I’ll see what I can do, okay?”
The smile reappears on Dylan’s face as he pulls his own cell phone from his pocket. We craft a message to send to his aunt, while his grandpa also texts her, so she doesn’t think it’s a prank. There’s something special about Dylan, I can already tell. I want to help him achieve his dreams.
I know that Lydia and I are still testing the waters, but I already think of the baby growing inside of her as mine.
The realization that I could someday have a son like Dylan makes my heart clench.
I would move heaven and Earth to make my son or daughter's dreams come true, and I can’t wait to help with Dylan’s.
Five minutes later, I’m walking back to Lydia with another cup of hot chocolate, a recipe, and a heart full of joy.