One final dab and a sniff, then I folded it neatly and pressed it between my palms. Then with a deep breath I gathered my courage to glance over at him.

He half faced me, his left hip and side against the island, with his elbow resting on its top, fingers laced casually together as he watched me without any trace of pity or disdain, just observation.

“I imagine that wasn’t merely about the cookies,” he said, his voice quieter and softer than I’d heard before.

I swallowed and shook my head. “But I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about . . .” I sighed, a headache threatening. “. . . everything right now.”

He immediately started to straighten. “Of course—”

My hand instinctively shot out to take hold of his forearm to stay his retreat. “Not that I don’t want to talk about stuff with you,” I said quickly. “Just, just not right now.” Our eyes connected and I could feel him slowly relax. “Okay?”

He nodded. “Whatever you wish.” Then his glance dropped to where I was practically clutching his arm and I let go at once, a hot wave of embarrassment coming over me.

“So, um . . .” I tucked a strand of my hair over my ear and shifted on my feet, experiencing a pang of anxiety that had nothing to do with my earlier outburst, or, at least, not directly. “Do you still want to go to the parade later?” As soon as the words came out I realized they sounded like I was asking him out, so I hurriedly added, “You know, all of us. Me, you, your aunt, and my grandma, too. If they’re not—”

“Blotto?”

“—tipsy?”

We said at the same time and then both broke out laughing in a way that felt like fifty pounds sloughed off my back and evaporated into the ether.

After a few moments, he smiled and brought back that cheek dimple that did things for me.

“I think,” he began, standing straighter, but this time without his usual awkwardness, “Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without a visit to a Christmas parade. Particularly in a town called Christmas.”

I felt like I needed to clarify: “You know it’s not going to look like the website, right?”

He chuckled and shook his head, but it felt more like himself. “At this point, Finley,” he said, sounding both resigned and amused, “it seems prudent for me to surrender all of my expectations.”

Sixteen

The Christmas Christmas Parade was traditionally an exercise in appreciation for the underwhelming because what it lacked in its low-budget presentation, which was everything, it more than made up for in artless enthusiasm, which was also everything.