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I felt almost breathless when we got back to the car after our last store. When Lawson first told me we were going out Christmas Eve shopping, I was admittedly worried. It felt like a whole lot of chaos and stress waiting for me. And I wasn’t wrong. There was so much going on, and so many people trying to stuff the last day before Christmas with as much shopping and overall merriment as possible. But even with all of that going on, it felt more exciting than it did anxiety-inducing.
There was a festive energy in the air that kept the experience fun even during frustrating moments. And just the thrill of finding a perfect little treat or a cute gift I never would have thought about and tucking it aside, knowing I was going to be able to give it the next day, gave me an adrenaline rush.
But the whole experience was also tiring, and I was relieved when the last bag was stuffed into the back seat of the car and I sat down with a satisfied exhale.
“Done,” Lawson said, resting his head back against the seat and turning it to offer me a grin. “You have officially tackled last-minute shopping.”
“It was fun,” I said. “I can’t believe I’m saying that, but I actually really enjoyed it. I hope everybody likes what I picked out for them.”
Lawson laughed and I narrowed my eyes at him. “What?”
“You’ve just accomplished a bonus Christmas spirit element,” he said. “Obsessive concern about whether gift recipients will like what you picked out for them.”
“Look at me go,” I said.
He grinned and turned the key, getting the heat pumping into the car. “I’m sure they’ll love it. All of them.”
“Ready to go do some wrapping?” I asked.
He shook his head and pulled out of the parking spot. “Not yet. We have something else to do first.”
“What?” I asked. Then it occurred to me. “The Christmas Eve Celebration.”
Lawson nodded as he drove toward the bed and breakfast. “It’s getting late, but I think we have enough time to do everything. We’ll drop this stuff off and go be festive.”
“I don’t know if I can fit in any more festive,” I said. “I’m reaching critical capacity here.”
“No such thing. Festive fits into the same category as Jell-O. There’s always room for more,” he said.
“Unless it’s that kind that has the butter and pretzel crust. It’s delicious, but very filling,” I said.
“Well, we’ll try to make sure that your festive crust is without pretzels. You already have enough saltiness, anyway.” I stuck my tongue out at him and he laughed. “Come on. The Celebration is a tradition.”
“That’s an excuse for a lot of things around here, isn’t it?” I asked.
“It’ll be fun,” Lawson said.
I pointed at him. “Also a common phrase. And one that very often is followed up with poor decision- making and potentially trips to the hospital.”
“I can promise you there will be none of that in the town square today. You survived the Faire, and that is much more involved.”
“That’s true,” I said. “All right. Let’s do this.”
We got back to the inn and unloaded everything. There wasn’t much point in trying to find creative places to hide anything since we were planning on wrapping everything when we got back from the Celebration, and no one was going to be scouring the house for presents, anyway, so we just tossed the bags onto my bed and headed out.
The Christmas Eve Celebration in town square was like Snowflake Hollow’s last stab at holiday fanfare. As much as people went over the top when it came to all of their celebrations and events throughout the season leading up to Christmas, when it came to the day itself people stuck close to home. Christmas Day was about being with family, possibly going to church, and maybe a driving tour of Christmas light displays after dinner.
The last chance the town had to all come together for a big to-do was the day before. It wasn’t as big or involved as the Festival and Faire from earlier in the season, but it had its special touches that made it a favorite tradition for many families. And for many families, this was a way to tire out the little ones and make sure they were good and ready to go to bed when they got home so the rest of the seasonal magic could begin.
By the time we got to the town square, it was already filled with families. The Christmas tree trail from the Festival was still there, and had been expanded as it got closer to the holiday. That was the first thing we decided to do. I could still remember the way it felt to walk along the path through the trees with Lawson the first time. I wanted him to hold my hand so much. I wanted to be there with him, not just be there at the same time as him.
Letting that thought go through my mind, it seemed like such a slight distinction, and it was one I imagined I would have put absolutely no thought into before. But now I definitely felt the difference. I understood how important it was not just to feel what I did for Lawson, but to have it out in the open. There wasn’t any doubt in my mind about how I felt or even about how he felt. And as we walked down the path, our hands were tightly clasped between us.
When we finished admiring the trees and I had mentally tucked away a few ideas for decorations for the bed and breakfast for next season, Lawson brought me over to a booth decorated with huge red and white candy canes like guardian posts, and plywood panels intricately painted to resemble a gingerbread house. The woman standing behind it flashed us a huge smile as we approached.
“We’d like to decorate a gingerbread house,” Lawson said.
It was one of the few things we hadn’t done during the season, and I’d wondered if he had just forgotten about it. I should have known he already had it planned for Christmas Eve. That just seemed like him. He was too quick with his response about keeping things special with their short time when we talked about decorating the Christmas tree just the night before the holiday. This was all in his mind already.
And it was kind of adorable.
“How many houses are we making?” the woman asked, looking back and forth between us.
In any other place but Snowflake Hollow, it would have felt like a loaded question. I still felt the weight of it even though I knew she wasn’t intending it. The heaviness of wondering what the relationship between the two of us was and what it meant was all in my own head, but I couldn’t make it go away.
“Just one,” Lawson said without hesitation. “For us together.”
I felt a flutter go through my heart and his fingers tightened around my hand. Gingerbread houses might not have been a traditional form of expressing affection, but I certainly felt it in that moment.
Lawson paid the woman and she handed him a ticket, then gestured to a large tent set up a few yards away. Inside I could see tables set up and families gathered around pre-built gingerbread houses, adding icing and candy to make the perfect vision. We stepped inside and Lawson handed the ticket to a man sitting behind a podium. He gestured to a table at the back of the tent and handed Lawson a decorated box I assumed contained all the materials for the house.
We thanked the man and made our way over to our table. When Lawson set the box down I opened it, expecting to find one of the prefabricated gingerbread houses sitting inside. Instead, I found a bunch of gingerbread pieces.
“Hey, why didn’t we get one of the ones that’s already made?” I asked.
Lawson laughed. “Because we’re adults with the dexterity to build a gingerbread house ourselves. Besides, it’s more fun this way.”
“I reserve the right to contradict both of those points,” I said.
“You’ve never made a gingerbread house?”
I pointed at the nearest family. “I’ve made one of those. Where the house is all nice and constructed for me with enough of whatever sticks it together to make sure it will stay stable throughout the entire season and not cause a miniature holiday catastrophe.”
“Royal icing,” Lawson said. “That’s what sticks it together. It’s really easy to make, and it dries hard as a rock. It’s the same stuff you usually use to stick the candy to the house unless you want the decorations to be easy to pry off and eat.”
“My grandmother and I used hot glue,” I said.
He shook his head and started unloading the gingerbread pieces from the box. As he lined them up, I tried to envision how they were going to stick together. A tube of royal icing came out next, followed by various candies.
“The icing looks better,” he said. “You’ll be glad you did it this way when it’s displayed on the mantel in the morning.”
I couldn’t help the smile that tickled my lips. I liked that he could envision things like that and wanted to be a part of it.
We went to work building the gingerbread house, and I quickly realized it wasn’t as difficult as I thought it was going to be. My craftiness was pulling through for me, and I suddenly felt like making some beaded pipe cleaner ornaments or smearing a pinecone with peanut butter and rolling it in birdseed to hang outside.
Lawson and I giggled our way through decorating the house, occasionally stealing a kiss or feeding each other one of the sweets. When we were done, we left it on the table with a card that had our names on it so that it could dry before the ride home.
“What’s next?” I asked as we left the tent.
“How about that?” Lawson asked, pointing out a table advertising a Christmas scavenger hunt.
It sounded like fun, so I nodded and we headed over there. The clues for the hunt were admittedly put together primarily for children, so the hunt wasn’t exactly a challenge, but it was still fun. Lawson and I scurried around the square, gathering clues and doing little activities along the way.
As we searched I kept catching myself glancing over at Lawson, watching him when he didn’t know I was looking. I was amazed at how strongly I felt about him. I’d been coming to terms with it, letting it bounce around in my mind and settle into my heart, but it still surprised me in some of those nondescript moments when there wasn’t anything specific happening, and no real reason to feel the rush of emotion I did.
That was the biggest thing. It was easy to get swept up by big romantic gestures. Anyone would melt a little when stopped under the mistletoe or danced with by the Christmas tree. Maybe even when handed a special cup of coffee. But it was the moments when nothing was going on and Lawson was barely even acknowledging I was there that really underscored the intensity of my feelings for him.
It was in those moments when I just saw Lawson. I wasn’t seeing the man who caught me when I was falling from the ladder, or the one who had decorated the house. I wasn’t seeing someone who was brimming with holiday spirit and willing to help me seek mine out.
I was just seeing a man who walked through a children’s Christmas-themed scavenger hunt with rabid determination. One who sometimes danced just a little when he didn’t realize anyone was looking and there was no music. One who held my hand even when he wasn’t looking at me, and sometimes dropped a kiss to my lips or to the top of my head for no other reason than he wanted to.
The feeling just kept getting stronger, and I hoped it wouldn’t end when it was time to pack away the ornaments and get back to the real world of the rest of the year.
The final stop of the scavenger hunt was a gorgeous fountain crafted within an ice sculpture. It was astounding to watch the water actually move through the ice and spray out from the top as the structure sparkled and glistened in the sun. Beside the statue was a plaque and Lawson brought me over to it.
“They’re donating all proceeds of the Christmas wish fountain to local charities,” I said, reading the sign.
He nodded and dug around in his pocket, pulling out a handful of change. “Perfect.”
We walked back to the front of the fountain and Lawson kissed the coin in his hand before throwing it over his shoulder into the water. I followed his lead, and when the coin splashed down into the water Lawson took me into his arms and looked down into my eyes.
“What was your Christmas wish?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I can’t tell you that.”
He smiled and leaned down to kiss me. I thought to myself that he was pretty close.
