Chapter 12
CHRISTIAN
Christian checked his watch as he paced.
It was coming up for half past seven and he still hadn’t seen her.
Fifth Avenue was dark and drenched and absolutely heaving with people.
It was raining so hard it was impossible to see to the other side of the street, and Carroll’s Department Store had three main entrances, not to mention the staff access doors and loading areas around the back.
He didn’t even know what time Merry got off work — for all he knew she’d slipped out already.
What are you doing? he asked himself, wiping the rain from his face. At least he’d had the good sense to pick up another jacket, given Merry still had his lumberjack and the temperature had dropped another few degrees overnight. It was an old Hermès, but he hoped it wouldn’t be too obvious.
He’d gotten off work an hour ago, and he hadn’t managed to stop thinking about the conversation with his father. He didn’t know how to explain it, just that the idea of staying felt too complicated and heavy.
All he knew was that the one thing tempting him to even think about staying was Merry.
That and the fact that every time he thought about her, something cinched tight in his chest. Someone had ruined Christmas for her, and though he knew it was dangerous, Christian wanted to make it better before he left.
A gust of bitterly cold wind tore up the street and he pulled his jacket tight around his neck, shivering. A group of people came out of Carroll’s, holding bags and moaning about the weather. He squinted into the store, trying hopelessly to find Merry in the crowds.
“You look like you’ve been swimming in the Hudson.”
The voice startled him, and he spun around like he was being attacked.
“Whoa!” Merry flinched at his sudden movement. “I’m not going to headbutt you again, I promise.”
“Merry!” To his immense astonishment, she was there, wearing his lumberjack coat, the hood pulled up, and her eyes gleaming from the shadows.
“The one and only,” she replied. “What are you doing out here?”
“Waiting,” he said, too flabbergasted to form a complete sentence.
“Waiting for what? If you don’t mind me asking?”
“Uh . . .” He paused, cocking his head. “You.”
Merry started to laugh. “Wait, what?” Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip. “Me? You’re standing on Fifth Avenue in the cold and the rain waiting for me?”
Christian nodded, his pulse racing like the engines of the taxis that roared past.
“Why?” she asked, as if it was the most unbelievable thing in the world that anyone would want to see her.
“I have a plan,” he said. “If you are willing.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “A plan?”
He shoved his hands deep into his wet pockets. “I wanted to kidnap you for the night.”
Her eyes widened and he rushed on. “Not in a weird way. In a Christmas way.”
Merry blinked. “A Christmas way?”
He grinned. “You said you weren’t feeling it this year. Christmas. New York. All of it. I thought that maybe I could change your mind.”
Merry was silent, staring at him through the rain. For a moment, he thought he’d gone too far. Then she pushed her hood back, letting the droplets bead across her hair. “What did you have in mind?”
He smiled wider, feeling the shift, the small miracle of it. “Come with me and find out.”
He hailed a cab and they climbed in out of the drizzle, sitting in the warmth as the driver honked his way across town, shouting so loudly it was impossible to have a conversation.
The cab pulled to a juddering halt, Christian paid and ran around to open the door for Merry with a little bow, like they were stepping into a ballroom instead of a crowded Midtown sidewalk.
“Oh, wow,” Merry breathed, taking Christian’s hand as she climbed out of the cab and into the glittering wonderland of Bryant Park Winter Village.
It was utterly magnificent. Strings of red and green bulbs glittered like jewels through the mist, and the scent of roasted chestnuts drifted over from a nearby vendor. Christian didn’t say anything. He just watched her face light up.
“Okay,” she said, turning to him with wide eyes. “This was a good idea.”
The air was thick with the delicious aromas of sizzling meats, cinnamon sugar, melted cheese and spiced cider.
Strings of lights criss-crossed overhead, glittering like stars.
The booths were bustling, music spilling from speakers, and people wrapped in scarves smiled as they queued. Merry stopped short, soaking it all in.
“Wow,” she said again.
“See?” Christian nodded, watching her face more than the lights. “This evening is going to be edible Christmas therapy.”
He gestured ahead, and together they strolled down the main path, winding between stalls and waving fairy lights. Just ahead, the ice rink stretched out in the centre of the village, ringed by benches and glowing trees.
“Corn dogs, cheesesteaks or raclette?” he asked casually as they passed a booth selling miniature ornaments shaped like pickles and tiny sushi rolls.
She raised an eyebrow. “You’re giving me a choice?”
“This is serious business,” he said. “Festive reawakening must be done properly.”
Merry smiled, her cheeks pink from the cold.
They paused at the edge of the rink, watching the skaters loop and spin and cling to the sides. One kid fell spectacularly, then immediately broke into laughter. His dad helped him up, steadying him by the elbows before they set off again together.
“I used to love skating,” Merry said softly, leaning against the railing. “Haven’t done it in years. Last time I went I got taken out by a guy doing a triple spin and landed flat on my back. Very festive.”
Christian winced in sympathy. “I once tried to impress a girl in high school by skating backwards in front of her. Wiped out, took her down with me, and broke her phone with my knee.”
Merry snorted. “You’re really bad at impressing women, huh?”
“I’ve gotten better,” he said, nudging her shoulder with his own. “I hope.”
“I’ll let you know at the end of the night.
” Merry didn’t seem to see the effect her words had on Christian, or if she did she was playing it cool.
“You know this market is like a celebrity in its own right? Every year I say I’m going to come see it, and every year I get too busy or too cold or too—”
“Grinchy?”
She gave him a playful glare. “Did you just say grinchy?”
“Might have.” He smirked. “But I was right, yeah?”
She shook her head, but she was smiling. “Maybe a little.”
He tilted his head towards her. “On a scale of one to Whoville, how grinchy are we talking?”
“Mid-grinch,” she admitted.
“Let’s aim for full Cindy Lou Who by midnight.”
A violinist on the corner began playing a slow, lilting version of ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ and, for a moment, everything around them hushed.
They stood there, quietly, wrapped in the twinkle and hum of the city.
Skaters spun below them, laughter echoing up from the rink, and the lights overhead seemed to pulse in time with the music.
Merry gave a little sigh, one that misted softly in the air.
“I know it’s cheesy,” she said, “but it’s kind of perfect, isn’t it?”
They lingered a moment longer, soaking in the music, the laughter, the slice of skates against ice. Then the wind brought a new wave of mouthwatering scent from down the path.
“Okay, my stomach is screaming at me, and that cheesesteak place smells insane,” Merry said, eyes bright.
Christian’s grin widened. “Excellent choice.”
The line for the truffle cheesesteaks wasn’t short, but neither of them minded. The smells were intoxicating and, as they waited, Merry leaned casually against Christian’s side, making him hyper-aware of every point of contact.
“This might be the best decision I’ve made all week,” she murmured, watching a staffer behind the counter shovel grilled onions on to a bun.
Christian glanced at her, the string lights casting a golden glow across her cheeks. “I’d like it noted for the record that I brought you here.”
“Oh, you want credit already?”
“I want a plaque,” he said. “ Christian: Restorer of Christmas Spirit. Bringer of Cheesesteaks. ”
She laughed, head tipped back slightly, and he felt the heat rise in his chest. Their sandwiches arrived wrapped in brown paper, still steaming from the grill. Merry peeled hers open and her eyes grew wide. “Oh my God.”
Christian bit into his. The flavours hit so hard he let out a satisfied sigh.
Merry took her first bite and let out a noise that was halfway indecent.
Christian’s brain stalled. He tried to recover, but his mouth was full and his body had already decided that whatever that sound was, it was very much his business.
Merry caught the look on his face and laughed, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Oh my God,” she said, a little breathless. “Sorry, that was uncalled for. It’s just, this is literally orgasmic.”
“Right?” he said, swallowing hard. “And your little moan was—”
“Embarrassing?” she interrupted, nose wrinkled.
“Not the word I’d use.” He took another bite just to give himself something to do, but it was too late. Every nerve in his body was paying attention now.
They stood under the awning of the stall, pressed shoulder to shoulder as they ate, sauce dripping on to their napkins, and when Merry went to take another bite, the cheese stretched out across her hands and down her chin.
Christian handed her an extra napkin. “You’ve got cheese on your—”
She took it and wiped blindly at her cheek. “Did I get it?”
“Close,” he said, then reached over and ran a thumb over her chin. She froze, watching him for a second too long. Her lips parted, just a little, but enough to make Christian’s chest hitch at the sight of her perfect pout. Oh, the things he’d like to do to that mouth.
She cleared her throat. “Okay. So, we need drinks to wash this down. Cider?”
“Cider,” he confirmed, heart thudding. “This way.”