“I’m comforted then. Hey, I got you something.” He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans with a wicked look in his eyes as he hands me an envelope.

I stare at it.

“It’s a tour of the Blommer Chocolate factory. I thought you might enjoy it,” he says.

“Tahoe.”

He smiles at me, but his eyes still look stormy. “She likes it,” he says.

“She loves it.” I frown. “But I didn’t get you anything.”

He takes a seat on my couch, and I sit down next to him.

“Yeah, you did,” he says.

“Uh, no. I did not.”

He looks at me, his tone low but firm, unapologetic. “Your picture. You didn’t lose it, I took it. You looked lovely and I took it.”

“Wait. What? Why?”

Heat blooms all across my body, and I hate thinking that I’m blushing head to toe.

“You collect those too?” I ask when he doesn’t reply.

He frowns darkly as if he dislikes me thinking this of him and continues looking at me with those tumultuous eyes, then he playfully purses his lips and pokes the tip of his finger into my tummy. “Not yet.”

“Yeah well, knowing you, you’re about to start.”

I rib him, frowning; he ribs me back, laughing for real at last. “What are we watching?” he asks.

“Your twin, the Grinch, whose heart will grow by the end of the film. Watch and learn.”

I motion to the TV and look down at his gift and I want to say thank you again but I can’t trust my voice to speak. It’s my first Christmas gift this year. My parents send me a $50 gift card every Christmas but it hasn’t arrived yet, and this is the first gift that someone actually took the time to choose for me.

So I just hold the envelope on my lap while Tahoe looks at me with blue eyes that look clear now, and I look back into his eyes and smile.

NEW YEAR’S

Trent gave me a box of chocolates when he got back from Atlanta and I’ve limited myself to enjoying only one a day, not because they don’t taste like heaven, but because I plan to look good tonight. I’m determined to spend New Year’s Eve the way I want to spend the entire year.

Wynn said that’s what everyone should do, while she, Rachel and I had our regular weekly brunch. She and Rachel insist that New Year’s Eve sets the tone for the year and whatever it is you start the New Year with, that’s what your focus for the New Year will be.

So I’ve told myself I’m going to be sublimely happy tonight. But since I sometimes seem to require a little help loosening up, I have a few glasses of wine as I mingle with the crowd.

I’m dressed in an emerald green sweater dress and brown leather boots that reach just below my knees, my hair held back in a high ponytail. My ponytail doesn’t manage to tame my curls, but at least it helps keep them off my face.

We’re at a posh New Year’s Eve party, the most decadent in the city. It’s being held in a five-star hotel. The ballroom is aglow with trickling champagne fountains and sparkly trays. Conversation is flowing as well as the alcohol.

Trent and I have mingled together all evening, but when he gets a phone call with bad news about one of his produce trucks being stolen during transport, he excuses himself to go talk outside.

Tahoe arrives very late. Tahoe’s girl is a strawberry-blonde with locks that fall all the way to her waist—the most gorgeous hair I’ve ever seen. I feel a pang of envy as he leads her over, followed by Callan Carmichael and his date.

“Someone introduce me to this gorgeous lady,” Carmichael says in reference to me.

“Haha. Hi, Callan.”

Tahoe looks at me quietly. “He’s right, you look gorgeous tonight.”

His words make my pulse skip a little but I roll my eyes and look at the blonde hooked on his arm. “Gina,” I introduce myself.

“Stephanie.” She smiles tartly at me.

Tahoe tugs on my ponytail playfully and, as he leads his date away, whispers in my ear, “Don’t eat all the chocolates.”

“It’s my life’s purpose, no matter what you say!” I yell out with my hands on the sides of my mouth so that my voice carries to him as he walks away.

Later that night, I go in search of Trent. I’m worried about his stolen delivery truck, but aren’t all holidays a playground for thieves? I’m winding through the crowd when I spot Tahoe heading back toward the group with his date’s drink.

Our paths inevitably cross and our eyes latch when we try to pass each other. I go left and as we move accidentally in the same direction, we laugh.

He stops smiling, opening his mouth to say something, but what he’s saying is suddenly drowned out by the chorus of the crowd.

“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One!”

Claps and cheers erupt. I shake myself from my laughter and Tahoe trails off from whatever it is he was starting to tell me.

“I’m wasted,” I hear myself say. “Wait, is it twelve?! OMG, it’s twelve.”

Tahoe looks at the drink in his hand with a wry smile, tosses half back, and then extends it to me. I take it and toss the rest back, then set it on the nearest table.

We look at each other with the realization that we are going to kiss each other this New Year’s Eve.

The thought makes me nervous and excited and anticipatory—more than I ever would have expected. As people kiss left and right, time feels slow in the space where we stand. Flashes of color and movement appear in the corner of my eye but he is the only clear thing, the sounds muting until I only hear my heart as we both gravitate to one another and get closer.