Christmas at the Roses
When the horse-drawn carriage turned onto Queen Street, Ellie straightened and pulled in a sharp breath. Hundreds of tiny coloured lights glistened along shop windows, around street lamps, and among the limbs of the trees lining the road. She twisted in her seat to catch a glimpse of the clock at the top of the cenotaph, glowing white against the indigo sky. Elation zipped through her chest before she had a chance to suppress it.
“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” Spencer asked.
“The lights are pretty,” Ellie admitted. She settled her gaze on him, studying the pink hue of his cheeks and nose, his full lips parted into a gentle smile, those sea-blue eyes that seemed to draw in every trace of light around him. Forget the holiday decorations—it was Spencer who stole her breath.
“You look happy,” he said. “Good. That’s all I wanted.”
She arched an eyebrow. “That’s all you want?”
Spencer nodded. “The way you were when we were together. With or without me in your life, I want nothing but happiness for you, Ellie. I hope you know that.”
The long, tender look he gave her stirred a warm quiver in her belly. She didn’t protest when his fingers grazed the shoulder of her coat, then laced through the locks of hair resting there, letting the strands slip through.
His touch pulled her back in time to evenings spent in her apartment or at his house, when they’d sat glued to one another, talking, touching, kissing. Never imagining a future where they’d be apart.
Her heart pounded with a dull ache, yearning for those moments when she’d felt safe and thoroughly loved. Truly happy. Moments that had receded into memories.
Spencer dropped his hand to her arm, then her hand, wrapping his gloved fingers around hers. “Ellie, I’ve got to ask you something you might not want me to ask, but I have to.”
She stiffened, her gaze darting down to their clasped hands and then back to his face, trying to read his expression. She should’ve known. A man didn’t make a grand, romantic gesture like this for no reason. More likely it was the culmination of a plan that had begun yesterday when he stalked her through the streets of Niagara-on-the-Lake. A spark of anger tinged with apprehension tightened her insides.
“Yes?” she said quietly, steeling herself.
He drew a quick breath and asked with a hopeful tone, “Do you think you could open your heart to Christmas, just a crack?”
Ellie stared at him, her lips parting, though it took her a moment to form a reply. “That’s what you wanted to ask?”
When the horse-drawn carriage turned onto Queen Street, Ellie straightened and pulled in a sharp breath. Hundreds of tiny coloured lights glistened along shop windows, around street lamps, and among the limbs of the trees lining the road. She twisted in her seat to catch a glimpse of the clock at the top of the cenotaph, glowing white against the indigo sky. Elation zipped through her chest before she had a chance to suppress it.
“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” Spencer asked.
“The lights are pretty,” Ellie admitted. She settled her gaze on him, studying the pink hue of his cheeks and nose, his full lips parted into a gentle smile, those sea-blue eyes that seemed to draw in every trace of light around him. Forget the holiday decorations—it was Spencer who stole her breath.
“You look happy,” he said. “Good. That’s all I wanted.”
She arched an eyebrow. “That’s all you want?”
Spencer nodded. “The way you were when we were together. With or without me in your life, I want nothing but happiness for you, Ellie. I hope you know that.”
The long, tender look he gave her stirred a warm quiver in her belly. She didn’t protest when his fingers grazed the shoulder of her coat, then laced through the locks of hair resting there, letting the strands slip through.
His touch pulled her back in time to evenings spent in her apartment or at his house, when they’d sat glued to one another, talking, touching, kissing. Never imagining a future where they’d be apart.
Her heart pounded with a dull ache, yearning for those moments when she’d felt safe and thoroughly loved. Truly happy. Moments that had receded into memories.
Spencer dropped his hand to her arm, then her hand, wrapping his gloved fingers around hers. “Ellie, I’ve got to ask you something you might not want me to ask, but I have to.”
She stiffened, her gaze darting down to their clasped hands and then back to his face, trying to read his expression. She should’ve known. A man didn’t make a grand, romantic gesture like this for no reason. More likely it was the culmination of a plan that had begun yesterday when he stalked her through the streets of Niagara-on-the-Lake. A spark of anger tinged with apprehension tightened her insides.
“Yes?” she said quietly, steeling herself.
He drew a quick breath and asked with a hopeful tone, “Do you think you could open your heart to Christmas, just a crack?”
Ellie stared at him, her lips parting, though it took her a moment to form a reply. “That’s what you wanted to ask?”