Snowflake Wishes

by Maggie McGinnis

  Everyone had spread out into booths and corners, bound for a restless night of pseudo-sleep. It was almost midnight, and the storm was still in full roar, but they were tucked up in a warm diner with plenty of food, so in reality, it was as cozy as could be.

  It felt so natural being here with Noah, which had her waffling between feelings of comfort … and panic. In the car earlier, she’d tried to turn off her self-protection instincts and just go with the flow for the day, and it had worked beautifully. They’d laughed, they’d joked, and they’d reconnected in a just-friends sort of way that had her feeling all squishy inside.

  But when he touched her hand, or hugged her shoulders, or kissed her forehead, the just-friends feelings were quickly replaced by visions of sneaking out to the truck, or out to the back deck of the diner, or anywhere where they could be alone. Every time she looked at his lips, she could feel them on hers. She could feel them … everywhere, and the memories of hot days and hotter nights were assaulting her in a way that left her feeling all jittery and exposed.

  And now it was dark, the diner lights were turned way down low, and the last thing she wanted to do was sleep.

  She suspected she wasn’t the only one.

  “Noah? Want to go outside, maybe?”

  He looked up. “Right now?”

  “Yeah.” She shrugged, pointing at the window, where the parking lot lanterns lit swirls of snow. “It’s slowing down a little.”

  “Feeling squirrelly, Pipes?” He smiled.

  She shrugged again. Squirrelly was an innocent way to put it. “I’m just not ready to sleep. And it’s beautiful out there. You can make the first tracks.”

  “Okay, but for the record, I think you’re nuts. It’s freezing.” He shrugged on his jacket, zipping it as he slid out of the booth. Then he held hers while she slid her arms into it and tried not to lean back against him like she used to do.

  He pushed open the front door as quietly as he could, holding it so she could follow him, and when they came out from under the awning, they both stopped and looked up at the same time. The flakes were huge, and Piper closed her eyes and remembered her mother dragging her out into a storm just like this when she was little.

  Look up, she’d said. Then close your eyes and wait for the angel kisses.

  “Thinking about your mom?” Noah’s voice was gentle as he came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, like he’d never stopped doing so. She leaned back against him, like she’d been doing it all along.

  “How did you know?”

  “Because you used to cry when it snowed. One day, you finally told me why.”

  She nodded, leaning her head back against his chest. “It was one of the rare things that made her happy.”

  “Hey.” He spoke gently, reaching toward the railing to scoop a handful of snow. “When’s the last time you made a snowflake wish?”

  “It’s been a long time.”

  Seven years.

  He held the tiny pile of snow in front of her face. “Want to make one now?”

  Piper’s stomach flipped, probably in response to the hip-hop dancing her eggs were doing, thrilled that Noah was actually touching her again.

  She closed her eyes. What to wish? She blew on the snow, and it scattered, catching sparkles in the pool of light beyond the awning.

  “What’d you wish for?”

  “Can’t tell, or it won’t come true.”

  He chuckled close to her ear, and it sent wild shivers to every nerve ending she owned.

  “Did you—wish that I would kiss you?”

  “No.” Yes.

  “Damn.” He reached for another pile of snow. “Try again.”

  She laughed and turned around in his arms, and as she looked into his eyes, there was nothing in the world she could do to stop wishing he would kiss her. She pulled his hand toward her and closed her eyes tightly, remembering how her mother had taught her to sing her snowflake wish.

  “Snowflake, snowflake, hear this wish. I wish that I could have one kiss.” She blew the snow from his hand, and then opened her eyes to see him looking down at her with an expression so sweet, so charged, that she almost couldn’t breathe. Then he slid his hand into her hair and brought her closer, touching his lips to hers in a kiss so full of longing that she found herself balling her hands against his jacket, just trying to get closer.

  Kissing Noah made time stand still, just like it always had. When his lips were on hers, when his hands were caressing her, she couldn’t think of anything but him … anything but getting him alone, with far less clothing on.

  In the falling snow, their tongues tangled, and their breaths mingled into tiny puffs of fog in the freezing air. Piper found herself longing for him to pull her down, undress her, kiss her everywhere with these impossibly hot, skilled lips, but good God, it was twenty degrees out and they each had on four layers of clothing.

  Noah pulled away, laughing softly as he touched his forehead to hers. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Depends. Are you blushing while you’re thinking it?”

  He laughed. “No. But guys don’t blush as easily as Bellini girls.” He hugged her to him, his hand on her head as he brought it to his chest. “God, I missed you, Piper.”

  “I missed you, too.”

  She swallowed hard. Now that his lips weren’t skating across hers, the chill of the porch and the snow started seeping in … as did the chill of reality. Seeming to sense that, he held her closer and kissed the top of her head.

  “Don’t think. Don’t ruin it by thinking.”

  “But—”

  She stopped when he placed his finger against her lips. “Shh. It’s a kiss. It’s not a promise, or a mistake. It’s just a kiss.”

  Just a kiss, her foot. Did he have kisses with other women like that? Kisses that made him want to forgo every bit of common sense and disappear for days with someone? She prayed hard that he didn’t, because that would kill her right now.

  “Okay,” she finally said. “But for the record, you are still a damn good kisser.”

  He laughed. “Ditto, sweetheart.”

  He turned toward the door and pulled the handle quietly. “Come on back in before we freeze our butts and they find us out here in the morning.”

  Reluctantly, she ducked under his arm and back into the warmth of the diner. She didn’t want to analyze all of the feelings he’d just jump-started with that kiss, but she had a pretty strong feeling that’s all she’d be doing for the rest of the night.

  When they got back to the booth and sat down, she surveyed it, wondering how they’d possibly sleep. The seats were too narrow to curl up on, and too short to stretch out on, but the sides of the booth looked too far apart to try to prop body parts on both sides at once.

  “How in the world are we going to sleep here?” she asked.

  Noah looked around him. “We’ve got two winter coats, one blanket, and two vinyl booth seats. Suggestions?”

  “Well, last time some guy purposely stranded me in a mountain diner—”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes.

  “What if we each sit on one side and put our feet up on the other? Kind of sit-sleep?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Will your feet reach over to this side?”

  “Really? A short joke?” She shook her head, shifting her body so her feet came up under the table and onto his side of the booth. It was hideously awkward, since the position left her butt hanging somewhere in midair under the booth.

  “Comfortable?” His eyebrows were up again, his lips trying not to smile.

  “Just like a feather bed.”

  “Come sit on this side with me. I’ll even let you lean on me if you promise not to snore.”

  She laughed. “I don’t snore.”

  “Of course not. Never did.”

  With those two sentences, Piper felt walls crumbling as she remembered him yawning through an entire Sunday long ago. It turned out she’d kept him awake for mos
t of the night, but he hadn’t had the heart to poke her … or suffocate her with a pillow.

  The wind howled outside the window, making Piper shiver, even though the diner was perfectly warm. She looked at Noah, and every cell in her body wanted to scooch over and sit beside him, letting his warmth envelop her as they both drifted to sleep.

  “Come on, Piper. It’s an accepted blizzard survival method—you curl up and share body heat.”

  “We’re in a perfectly warm diner.”

  He tipped his head toward the window. “In a blizzard. It counts.”

  She rolled her eyes, but before she could talk herself out of it, she pushed herself out of the booth and then slid in beside him. He stretched his legs across to the other seat, and she’d be damned if he didn’t actually look kind of comfortable.

  He closed his eyes and crossed his arms, the picture of a guy who had no intentions of taking liberties with the situation. She should have been relieved, but instead, she found herself wishing maybe he’d sling his arm around her shoulders or something.

  “You can prop your feet up on my legs if it helps, shorty.” His eyes stayed closed, but he smiled.

  Piper fussed around with her coat, trying to make the tiny booth as comfortable as possible, and finally she gingerly propped her feet on his legs, then laid her head back against the top of the booth. She couldn’t imagine sleeping in this position.

  “You’re never going to fall asleep like that.” He opened one eye and lifted his arm. “C’mere. I won’t bite.”

  With a sigh, she leaned against him, snuggling in as his arm came down around her. His body was the perfect combination of hard, soft, warm … solid, and it was all she could do not to sneak her hand under his sweater to feel the sculpted planes of his chest.

  She swallowed hard.

  He opened one eye again. “I know it’s tough being this close to my body without ripping my clothes off, but if you could remember we’re in a public diner, I’d appreciate it.”

  “I’ll do my best.” She kept her head down lest he see the redness she could feel taking over her cheeks.

  He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, and she struggled not to melt. “Sweet dreams, Piper.”

  She stayed snuggled against him for what felt like an hour, but despite being actually sort of comfortable, she couldn’t fall asleep. Her brain was cruising at warp speed, and her pathetic little eggs were having a luau, thinking there was a remote possibility they might not actually die.

  “Piper?” His voice rumbled through his chest and to her cheek. “You going to twitch all night?”

  “I’m not twitching.”

  “You always twitch when you’re too amped up to sleep.” He squeezed her. “Need a story?”

  She closed her eyes tightly, assaulted by sudden, sweet memories. Years ago, whenever she’d had trouble falling asleep, he’d rub her back and tell her stories—silly little nonsense tales he pulled out of his imagination. He’d speak in his most soothing voice, and she’d fall into a deep, relaxed lull … but before she ever fell asleep, his hand would still and his voice would soften, and then he’d be the one to fall into dreamland first.

  She’d never had the heart to tell him he always succumbed to his own stories before she did, because she’d never wanted him to stop telling them. After his breathing was slow and even, she’d slide out of bed, sit down at her easel, and paint a scene from the story. Then she’d write down as much of the tale as she could remember, and then, when he’d wake up and pull her back to bed, she’d finally be able to sleep.

  She still had those stories—and those paintings—tucked away in her bedroom closet.

  “I’d love a story,” she finally answered, then felt desolation creep through her.

  He’d tell one, but this time, she wouldn’t be able to paint it afterward.

  Chapter 6

  Early the next morning, Piper was startled awake by the sound of a plow outside the window. She squinted her eyes against the morning sunlight just creeping through the panes, then sat up carefully, trying not to wake Noah. He’d fallen asleep first, but she hadn’t been far behind him, and visions of his story were still dancing around in her head.

  “Morning, sunshine.” He smiled, brushing a stray hair away from her face. It was a move so tender that it made her want to sigh and sink right back against his body.

  “How long have you been awake?”

  “Sunrise hit me between the eyes about an hour ago.”

  She pulled away, stretching. “You must be as stiff as a board.” She slid out of the booth. “Want to stand up?”

  She stepped away from the booth so he could slide out, and when he stood up to stretch, she found her eyes traveling over his chest and up to his morning stubble. When her eyes met his, she saw amusement, like he’d caught her looking and knew exactly what she’d been thinking.

  People were stirring from their uncomfortable sleeping spots, and Piper could hear the cook banging pots back in the kitchen. The smell of fresh coffee hit her nose as Darla pushed through the swinging doors, carrying two huge carafes.

  “Free coffee for anybody who helps shovel!”

  She put the carafes on the counter, along with a stack of clean coffee cups, and though Piper was just about ready to kill for a hot cup of coffee, she waited while the others got their cups and went back to their spots. Then she filled up two mugs, handing one to Noah as she poured creamer in hers.

  “Still like yours black?” She grimaced as she stirred hers.

  “Still pollute yours with flavors that are not coffee?”

  “Just cream.” She rolled her eyes. “And if you’d grown up on my mother’s coffee, you’d have learned to love creamer, too.”

  He stared out the window, sipping his coffee as the morning sunlight touched the tips of his eyelashes, and Piper had a vision of him sitting on a front porch someday, looking out over a sunrise-lit lake from his Adirondack chair. It was an image that hit her right in the gut—one she’d had in her head for a long time—and for a moment, she tried to picture somebody besides him in that chair.

  She couldn’t.

  She closed her eyes and braced her hands around her mug, wishing the heat would seep in and bring sanity to her brain before she completely fell under Noah’s spell again.

  He looked at her over his cup, smiling in that way that crinkled the corners of his eyes so perfectly. And all she could think of in that moment was kissing him again. Her eyes locked on his lips, and his on hers, and for a long, long moment, neither of them moved.

  “You want some breakfast?” Darla appeared at the end of the table, startling them both. “Looks like the bridge’ll be open in an hour or so. Probably safe to head out then, if we’re shoveled out. What can I get you?”

  “Um, I—” Piper fumbled for the laminated menu, hoping thoughts of pancakes and bacon would replace the ones of wishing they were stranded at a B and B with a huge bed and a claw-foot tub.

  Noah cleared his throat. “I’ll have the number three. With bacon.” He flipped the menu. “And home fries.”

  Piper looked up at the waitress. “I’ll have the same.”

  Half an hour later, Piper pushed away her plate, stuffed. “You may have to roll me to the truck. I’m not going to need to eat again till next weekend.”

  “Right. This is you we’re talking about.”

  “Okay, fine. Till at least two o’clock, then.” She wrinkled her nose as she looked out the window at the massive piles of snow. No one seemed very anxious yet to pay off their coffee with labor. “Should we go help shovel?”

  “You ready to get back?”

  His question was innocent, but they both heard the undertone. The sooner they got back, the sooner they’d have to face the reality that her life was still in Echo Lake, and his was—somewhere else.

  She sighed. “I suppose we have to at some point, right?”

  He shrugged, holding up his cup. “Good coffee here. I’m in no rush.”

 
“Okay.” She shifted awkwardly in the booth, searching for the words she’d been trying to formulate since they’d woken up, but so far, all she had was a jumbled mess of thoughts. However, time was getting short, and she needed some answers before they got back to Echo Lake.

  “So … when you headed up here from Boston on Friday, what did you hope things would look like … today?”

  Noah studied her over the rim of his cup. Then he set it down. “Piper, you know I’d never lie to you, right?”

  “I think so.”

  “I wouldn’t. I never did.” His eyes held hers, and she couldn’t look away. “Being with you this weekend feels like I hit a time warp on the interstate and jumped back seven years. You’ve changed so much, but at the core, you haven’t changed a bit.”

  He reached for her hand. “I knew … I still loved you—but I loved the you I remembered. And I knew you couldn’t possibly still be that same person.”

  “Oh.” Ouch. Did that mean he didn’t think he could love the person she was now? Was she really all that different?

  Her eggs emitted little tiny death-bleats.

  He squeezed her fingers. “You’re not the same person—you shouldn’t be, can’t be. The problem is, I’m supposed to fly out in a week, but I don’t even want to go back to Boston tonight. I’m not ready for the weekend to end, because I feel like I just found you again.”

  “Oh.” The bleats subsided a little.

  Noah chuckled. “Your vocabulary’s diminishing rapidly.”

  “I know. Sorry.” She blew out a breath. “It’s all just—so much to take in. I thought you were gone forever, and now? You’re—here. Sort of. But you’re leaving.”

  “I know.”

  “Then … what are we doing, really?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She frowned. “Now your vocabulary’s diminishing.”

  “I know.” He cringed. “Sorry. I think—there’s a lot to think about. Forty-eight hours ago, I thought you were probably married with six kids, and you assumed I was probably dead.”

  “I didn’t—”