Page 54 of All in for Christmas

My heart twists because I don’t know.

“Same with Henry.”

“Maybe they were just representations,” I say, “of ‘children yet to come.’”

He sighs heavily. “Yeah, could be.”

“I guess we’ll never know.”

“We might know,” he says sweetly. “Someday.”

That sounds amazingly wonderful, but risky, if Dean is right. I see Henry’s smiling face, hear his cute voice saying “Merry Kissmas,” and my soul aches. “I suppose I’d want it both ways. To have those specific kids, eventually in this realm.”

“Yeah, eventually.” He grows distant, staring at the snow. “But it’s a gamble, I suppose.”

My heart hurts at the thought of gambling with Henry and Eleanor. Two precious babies, mine and Dean’s, the ones we might have had. “What would you do?”

“If it were up to me, and I’d bonded with those two the way you did, I’d find a way to save them.” My pulse pounds, because there’s only one thing that could mean: switching over to the alternate reality and staying there. “Theoretically speaking,” Dean says, rubbing his chin.

“But I can’t imagine leaving here now.” I search his eyes. “Not after everything I’ve told you.” I swallow hard. “And now that we stand a second chance.”

Dean stares at the advent calendar in the kitchen. “I never said you’d have to go alone.”

“Dean? What?”

“What if we were there together?”

“But we were there together.”

“No,” he says gently. “I mean what if we both made a conscious choice? Decided together that’s the path we should have taken?

No regrets.” My pulse skitters nervously.

“Paige,” he proposes, “what if—when he was shown his past—Ebenezer Scrooge had been allowed to alter it, and wake up married to Belle?”

“But that’s not how the story goes.”

He takes my hand. “This is our story now.”

“But I didn’t choose to go there the first time. I’ve no idea how to get back.”

“I’ve been thinking about something.” Dean meets my eyes. “What if the magic that caused your transition is still working? It’s Christmas Day now.” My heart skips a beat, because I know what he’s saying. We’re not yet out of time. There’s still a chance for that different life.

Dean stands and carries his wine into the kitchen, and I walk with him. He leaves his wineglass on the counter and removes the advent calendar’s Christmas star ornament to examine it. “You told me that the night you put this up, you thought you saw it glowing.”

He turns it over in his hand to peer at its Velcro back.

“Maybe this star is the key to that other dimension. A way to open the door and return.” He flips the star over in his hand again.

“‘A calendar that can predict the future,’ Mary Christmas said.” He’s thinking out loud, postulating in his teaching-physics voice.

If I were a student in his class, I’d crush majorly.

I’m crushing majorly now. He looks at me and his eyes twinkle.

“‘Change lives,’” he says in a thoughtful tone.

He steps toward me and asks, “But was it really the future Mary Christmas was talking about, or something else?”

“The calendar did predict the future in a way,” I answer. “There were those appearing poinsettias—in both realities. Henry’s snowman. The ice skates. The Christmas candle.”

Dean considers the calendar. “I wonder what would have happened if you’d put this star slash quasi comet up on the calendar today.”

“Another astronomical event?” I venture.

“Maybe astronomy’s not big enough.”

Says the man who teaches about black holes.

“What’s bigger than the mysteries of the universe?”

His lopsided grin warms me, fills me with tingly joy. “The mysteries of the human heart.”

I sense so many possibilities. A different kind of future with Dean.

A brand new life. But not one I can plan for or program specifically.

One fraught with unforeseeable surprises.

In my current reality, Dean and I can carefully navigate our new relationship.

Responsibly prepare for a deeper commitment in the future.

Orchestrate an ideal family. Or. We can jump right into the deep end and let things get messy. “Dean, what are you thinking?”

He places my wineglass beside his on the counter and takes me in his arms. “I’m wondering, what would happen if we both made the same wish? Wanted the same things?”

“And?”

He nods at the calendar. “That just might change things.”

Anticipation courses through me—anxiety, too.

“Paige.” He holds me tighter. “Maybe to hold on to what is good , we need to let go of any guilt we’re both feeling over the past, and the choices we made.

Maybe it’s not too late to choose differently and to have all those amazing things in one package.

Our sweet bungalow, our cute kids and great family dog, a future for you in teaching where you can start Paws and Read all over again. ”

My eyes burn hot, because that sounds so totally perfect. “I won’t mind the hard work of starting over again.” I say honestly, and my eyes fill to brimming. “Not if you’re there with me. Not if we have Eleanor and Henry, and our precious pup Scout.”

His gaze locks on mine and he holds the star ornament out in his hand.

“What if we put this up together? Took that leap of faith, united? Made the very same wish on the very same star, this Christmas star on your magical calendar? Today is Christmas Day. Maybe it’s not too late for its magic to work. ”

Hope blooms inside me, but my voice shakes. “What if it doesn’t work?”

He shrugs. “What if it does ?”

I gasp and stare up at him. “Dean, maybe this is what Mary Christmas meant when she talked about going all in . She said when I made my choice, I’d have to make it with my whole heart and not partway, either.

One hundred percent. I thought I’d made that decision in the other world but something must have been holding me back. ”

“Your worries over losing Paws and Reads? Concern about your Mom?” Dean asks me.

I shake my head. “What about my concern about choosing for you ?”

“But I wasn’t aware of the two realities then.”

“That’s just it,” I say, understanding settling over me. “You and I are a team, Dean. We’ve always been a team. Maybe it didn’t seem fair for me to make that decision for our family entirely on my own.”

“You’re not making it alone now, Paige.” He smiles fondly. “I’m right here with you, all in all the way.”

My pulse hums when he holds out the Christmas star, so I can grab part of it while he grasps the other end of the delicate cloth object.

We press it to the tippy-top of the felt Christmas tree and wait.

I expect the floor to open up and swallow us whole, for the white-tipped mountains to crumble into the snowy valleys outside my window, for the earth to tremble and shake.

Nothing happens.

I am so crestfallen.

Then suddenly the star on the calendar starts to quiver and glow, sending out thin ribbons of light.

The beams grow wider and brighter, bouncing off the appliances in my kitchen and stretching across the room, hitting the large plate-glass window and making it shimmer like hundreds and hundreds of glittery snowflakes, now magically dancing around us.

Dean brings his arms around me securely. “I said if you left, I’d find you. Paige,” he says soft and low, “kiss me.” He dips his chin closer. “For luck.”

His swoony lips meet mine, and bursts of light shine out around us. Glowing brighter and brighter, and bathing us in their warmth. Soon we’re flying. Soaring—traveling at the speed of light—seemingly on the wings of angels.

We’re in the center of a white-hot star.

Then everything goes black.