Eighteen

Approaching the Christkindlmarkt was like stepping into one of the small town Christmas movies they had just watched, and even though they had been there just the day before, Claire felt her breath catch at the sight of the lights, the smells of cinnamon and nutmeg that were wafting her way. 

“Why?” she breathed, her eyes finding Jack’s.

“Why what?” he asked, looking concerned.

“Why is it like this? Why does it feel so magical?” She shook her head. “I…I can’t explain it, not really. It just feels like a Christmas from my childhood. Like anything is possible, even a flying sleigh appearing right over our heads.”

That earned her a soft smile from Jack. “Don’t look now, but—” He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his side. “No, I won’t kid with you. There is no sign of a flying sleigh, but I agree that the magic does feel just about powerful enough for that to happen.”

“Why is it like this?” They were walking through the stalls now, an unspoken decision to take in as much of the market as they could rather than making a beeline for the glühwein stand. “Why does it feel so different? Have the Germans figured out something we haven’t?”

Jack shrugged as he sighed. “I don’t think it’s that simple. I think the magic of the season is everywhere, even in New Jersey. It’s just about whether or not you’re free enough to appreciate it. Back in the States, you would probably be scrambling to get  your last minute shopping done, but you don’t have that pressure on you here.” He gestured around them. “And I’m sure there are people here with mile-long to-do lists, too. Although, maybe with the whole month of December to enjoy the Christmas markets, they’re a little more on top of their holiday to-do lists.”

“Valid points,” said Claire, gesturing towards the line for the glühwein stand, then beginning to walk there at Jack’s nod. 

“Of course, there’s also the fact that it’s a little easier to find the magic when you’re out of your normal environment.” He gestured to the crowd around them. “I’m sure some of these people appreciate the spirit of the season…but all of them? Do you think the Germans have somehow mastered the art of savoring the Christmas spirit, or…?” He trailed off, giving her a meaningful look.

Claire sighed. “Or do I think that people are basically the same everywhere and there are stressed out Germans here just like there are Americans who are enjoying the holiday season just as much as I am here?”

Jack shocked her then by reaching forward to boop the tip of her nose with his finger. “Ding ding ding,” he said, then grimaced. “Sorry, I don’t know why I just did that.”

But she only smiled. “No, don’t be. I kind of loved it.” The gesture had been so natural and so intimate that it was easy to imagine the ease between them was the ease of an established relationship, that his reaching out to touch her lightly on the nose was something he did all the time, either to punctuate a point he was making or to surprise her in the middle of a disagreement or simply because he knew it would make her smile.

The gesture seemed to have embarrassed him, though, because he wasn’t quite meeting her eye now. “I just think about that a lot, I guess. When people go to Italy for a week and come back raving about how everything there was so much better than back home, you know? Suddenly, they’re grumbling about everything they loved a week before. And sure, nobody does pizza better than the Italians. But you loved a New York slice last week and suddenly it’s garbage now?” Jack shook his head. 

“It’s easier to find the magic when everything is new and different, but if we put in a little effort we’d see it around us, even back home?” Claire looped her arm through his. “Is that what you mean?”

“I guess so.” Jack was nodding. “There’s something about the whole idea of the grass being greener on the other side that really irks me.”

Interesting, thought Claire. She was tempted to dig a little deeper into that, but thought better of it at the distant look in Jack’s eyes. If he wanted to tell her, he would. And if he didn’t, then maybe it wasn’t any of her business after all. She stayed silent then as they took their place at the end of the line for mulled wine, taking small steps forward every few moments.

But the silence seemed to invite Jack to continue, and when he spoke next, his vulnerability surprised her. “That was what happened with my ex. A work trip, meeting someone new, and suddenly everything about me was old and tired and wrong and everything about him was new and fresh and just the perfect match for her. It didn’t happen immediately, though. It wasn’t like she came straight home and dumped me.” He shook his head, blowing out a mirthless laugh. “No, she kept me around even though everything I did seemed to either annoy or embarrass her. And she started talking about the new guy, her new work friend, every chance she got. I could see there was something there, even if she didn’t want to admit it.”

“So she dumped you for him?” Claire winced as the words came out.

But Jack was already shaking his head. “I ended things when I figured out what was going on. No need to stick around until she was well and truly sick of me.”

“And are they together now?”

“I don’t know. She even denied at the time that there was anything there, but it was so clear. So obvious. I told her I didn’t want to be anybody’s second choice, not even hers.” His smile was small and sad. “I really loved her, and I would have stuck around. Would have contorted myself into trying to make her get her feelings back. But it doesn’t work that way.”

“That’s why you’re so determined to help your sister,” Claire breathed, her voice barely a whisper.

Jack nodded. “Yeah, it was seeing Hazel go through it that made me realize what I needed to do. I did it for both of us.”

Claire leaned in to Jack’s side, overcome with affection for him. How could anybody not love him? Get tired of him? Meet someone new and think that they even compared to him, let alone were a better choice than him?

It all made sense then, especially his hesitation to take things too quickly with her. He wanted to hold on to her, to the feelings long enough to be sure that they were real.

And even as much as she wanted to push through that, to insist that they were different, that they could do whatever they wanted and be together forever no matter how things began between them…she understood. She respected his wishes, his need to take things slowly.

And if she was honest with herself, she probably needed that slow pace, too. It wasn’t as if she’d never been scared off by things getting too real too quickly. She was no stranger to the art of self sabotage.

At that thought, an awareness washed over her. Was that what was happening right now with Bianca and Velvet Leaf? Was her career, in fact, doing better than ever—hence the European tour—and the last thing her agent was about to do was give her bad news? Was she only worrying herself about it because it felt like things were too good and such a feeling could only mean the other shoe was about to fall?

But Claire shook off the thought and turned her attention back to Jack, just in time for the two of them to step up to the counter. If, by some bizarre twist of fate, her career survived until the end of the year, she would celebrate that news with Jack in New York.

It was possible that huddling around the cozy heater, insides warming from within with every sip of mulled wine, had created an infinitely more cozy and tempting atmosphere than staying in bed in their sweats. 

Given that Hendrik and Jana had been with them the day before, Claire had inaccurately predicted what the environment would be like this evening. While she had expected friendly laughter and good food, maybe a little bit of shopping, instead she had stepped right into a scene that felt like it came out of a movie.

Bundled in her coat and hat, only her eyes and the tip of her nose peeking out as she smiled up at Jack, it was all Claire could do to stop herself from batting her eyelashes at him. And when he reached over and tugged the collar of her coat even higher, she nearly swooned at the action and at the care with which he handled her.

“Food?” he asked, studying the bottom of his empty mug. “Or more wine?”

“Food,” she responded, even when all she wanted to say was “bed” or “forever” or anything and everything in between.

Jack tucked her mittened hand into the crook of his elbow and slipped his hands into his pockets. He guided her toward a stand with sausages that they had noticed the day before, stopping on the way at a small booth that had caught his eye.

He picked up a small ornament, a heart filled with bookshelves covered in books, and held it up to her with a twinkle in his eye. “Do you think Hazel would like this? A little extra Christmas present, a souvenir from the trip where I met her favorite author?”

Claire nodded, beaming into her scarf, where Jack couldn’t see. What was it that tickled her so much about the image of him giving a present to his sister that the two of them had picked out together? Was it the fact that couples in many stages of their relationships did just the same thing whenever holidays and birthdays rolled around? That it felt like she already knew his family, even if she hadn’t even known Jack himself two days ago.

Jack finished his shopping and paid while Claire was looking at some ornate Christmas pyramids, layers covered with wooden figurines with what looked like fan blades at the top. They were spinning from the heat rising from the candles at their bases, and she was briefly hypnotized by them—on second thought, food was a necessity. That had been more wine than she had realized. The pyramid was an impressive work of craftsmanship, and it stirred up vague memories of something she had seen in her grandparents’ house as a young girl, but the fact that she could lose track of time enraptured by it suggested she needed some sustenance.

“Claire?” Jack broke into her reverie, following her gaze to the Christmas pyramid. “You like that?”

She just nodded, still transfixed.

“It would make a great souvenir, wouldn’t it? Something to look at every Christmas and remember the days here?” Was it her imagination, or was there something unsaid in his question…she had noticed the lack of pronoun, that he hadn’t specified that she should look at it every year, so maybe he had meant to suggest that we could look at it every year.

But Claire just shook her head. “I love it,” she said, “But there is no way that’s surviving the journey in my suitcase and I don’t have the heart to take a chance on it.”

“You mean opening your luggage up to find it smashed into a million little pieces wouldn’t make you want to write glowing five-star reviews for the airline’s baggage handlers? Weird.” Jack cast an appraising glance back over the wares for sale at the booth, then tipped his head towards the food stand, his hand that wasn’t carrying the bag of ornaments coming to land on Claire’s lower back.

They both decided on bratwurst in a bun, opting out of having one last German beer in favor of one more mug of glühwein before retiring to the hotel. Claire took a bite, looking around to see if there were any areas of the market that they hadn’t managed to investigate yet. 

Just as she was about to point to a distant corner and suggest walking by there when they were done eating, she turned back to Jack to find the bag from his purchase placed on the table in front of her.

“What’s this?” she asked, raising her chin towards it.

“It’s not much of a surprise,” he said, “but open it.”

She reached into the bag and pulled out the bookshelf ornament he had purchased for Hazel. “I…am confused. Were you just asking me if I liked it to test out a gift idea for me? Because you didn’t have to…”

Jack pulled an identical ornament out of his pocket, then replaced it after she had seen it. “I got one for each of you. Do you like it?”

Claire nodded, her fingers trailing over the surface of the ornament, taking in all the details. “This is handmade, isn’t it? The craftsmanship is just…”

“I know.” Jack was watching her, a smile in his eyes. “Put it on your tree every year and think about this trip.” He looked around then. “The Christmas market, Munich, the airport…me?” His last word was tentative, rising into a question as his eyes found hers.

Claire reached across the table, placing her hand on top of his and smiling at him. “I…well, I hope this isn’t too bold, but whatever. Here goes. I hope you’ll be with me next year when I hang this ornament on my tree. And we’ll talk about our time in Munich and how we met there and whether or not we’ll go back again someday.”

Jack’s eyes had lit up as he listened to her speak. “You’d like that?” When Claire nodded, his grin stretched impossibly wider. “I’d like that, too.” He shot a meaningful glance at the ornament. “It’s only fair to that piece of craftsmanship, after all. I doubt it’s going to make it onto the tree this year, is it?”

Claire shook her head, chuckling softly. “I have no intentions of spending Christmas Eve—that is to say, the one small part of Christmas Eve that I don’t spend on an airplane—driving all over the tri-state area trying to find the perfect Christmas tree and then decorating the bastard.” Her fingers trailed over the surface of the ornament. “But I’ll sneak it onto my parents’ tree. And then take it off again when I leave for my apartment. It’s the perfect start to my own ornament collection.”

“Your first ornament?” Jack’s eyebrows had climbed up his forehead. “If I’d known it was your first, I would probably have put a little more thought into it. Are you sure…?”

But Claire was nodding, picking up the bookshelf ornament to turn it over. “I love it. And I have other ornaments…in my parents’ collection, I mean. My grandma always gave us an ornament for Christmas every year, something that represented the year. I haven’t bothered to sort through the box and pick out the ones that are mine because my parents and I always spend Christmas together. I’ve never even had my own tree.”

“But you want to next year?”

Claire shrugged. “I think it would be nice. My older sister took a bunch of ornaments out of the collection after moving out and getting married. And I can be my own little family instead of just a branch on my parents’ family tree, you know?”

“You can,” said Jack with a nod. “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying spending the holidays with your parents, of course. But making your own traditions, too…I think there’s something really special about that.”

“It’s like accepting the adult mantle, I guess.” Claire tipped her head to the side, weighing the pros and cons of the dilemma. “Of course, I haven’t missed having the daily chore of sweeping up all the needles that fall off the tree every night.”

“Some would say that’s why God made artificial Christmas trees,” he responded with a small shrug.

“But does a fake Christmas tree smell like pine?”

“I see your question, and I’ll raise you another one. Does a fake tree have needles that stab your fingers with a violence equivalent to avenging its own murder? And in that same vein, how many trees have to die to get a fake Christmas tree into your home?”

Claire smiled. “Well, the answer probably isn’t zero, considering that trees are cut down everywhere all the time for all sorts of different purposes. But I hear your points and I will take them into advisement.”

Jack squinted, studying her. “And I’ll see next year what you land on?”

That set off a flutter of butterflies in Claire’s lower belly. “I guess you will.”