Page 10

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MAX

T he market is like a living, breathing thing, full of traditional holiday cheer I expect is unique to Europe. Although we were here last night, I’m still struck by the magical atmosphere. Strings of golden lights twinkle overhead, their reflections glinting off the frosted stalls that line the wide stone paths. The scent of roasted chestnuts, spiced cider, and pine hangs heavy in the air, wrapping around us like a warm, invisible blanket. I should be soaking it all in, enjoying every last second of my time in Vienna.

Instead, I can’t stop stealing glances at Anna. I realize it feels magical to me, not just because I’m here, but because of the woman I’m with.

She’s walking beside me, close but not close enough. I want to hold her hand, but hers are tucked into the pockets of her coat, and her cheeks and the tip of her nose are tinged pink from the cold. I really want to kiss her, but I hold back. Something has shifted since we woke up this morning, and I can feel her pulling away.

She was so flustered when Danny and his dad assumed we were dating whereas I wanted to shout it from the rooftops that she was all mine.

Ever since we took off our skates, she’s been quiet, distracted, like she’s trying to shove the memory of last night into some box she can tuck away and pretend it never happened. It’s killing me.

One night. That’s all it took to wreck me for anyone else. I thought I knew what I wanted out of life – play hockey, win the Cup, enjoy everything my amazing career has to offer – but now?

Everything’s different. She’s different. And she’s slipping through my fingers.

We pass a wooden stall displaying delicate glass ornaments, each one sparkling under the glitter of fairy lights. Anna slows, her gaze catching on a deep emerald bauble painted with a Christmas woodland scene. It’s quite intricate, the tiny white snowflakes looking almost real. She doesn’t touch it, just stares like it holds some secret she’s not ready to share.

“See something you like?” I ask, keeping my tone light.

She startles slightly, as if she’d forgotten I was standing here. “They’re beautiful,” she says softly, smiling at the artist who stands to assist her.

“Then you should get one.” I step closer. “A souvenir. Something to remember this weekend by.” Something to remember me by . I shake off the thought. I don’t just want to be memory for her.

Her lips curve, but it’s not a real smile. “I don’t need a souvenir, Max.” She hesitates, her eyes flitting back to the ornament. “I love these, though. They remind me of the ones we had growing up. My parents used to bring back an ornament from every trip, even if it was just a weekend away.”

Her voice trails off, and there’s a shadow in her eyes now, one I don’t think she even realizes is there. “They don’t collect them anymore?”

She glances at me her expression conflicted and clears her throat. “They died,” she says quietly. “Boating accident. I was fifteen.” She shrugs. “Felix was in his first year with a junior team and training for the Olympics. My grandfather took care of me until Felix was drafted and was able to get a place for us.

Shit. My chest tightens, and the instinct to pull her into my arms is so strong it’s like a physical ache. No wonder Felix is so overprotective. Of course he is, Anna is precious in a way I don’t think even she realizes. To have to deal with taking care of a younger sibling on top of being in a farm team and he lost his parents too. I do a quick calculation. He must have only been seventeen when the accident happened.

“Anna…” I start, but I don’t know what else to say. “I’m so very sorry.”

She blinks, her eyes falling back to the ornament. “It was a long time ago, and in many ways, we were lucky, we at least had each other.”

But the pain is still there, and I’d do anything to erase it. I can’t obviously, and nothing can ever replace what she lost, but I can do this. “Wait here,” I tell her, ducking into the stall before she can argue.

I point out the beautiful ornament and wait while the artist wraps the ornament carefully, placing it in a bag adorned with a little sprig of holly. When I hand it to Anna, she frowns, but I see the way her fingers stroke the velvet ribbon securing the holly. “You didn’t have to do that.” She holds the bag out to me. “This should be for you.”

“It is for me,” I say, my voice low. “I’ll be happy knowing it’s hanging on your tree. A little piece of Vienna… and of us.”

Her breath catches, and for a moment, I think I’ve gotten through to her. But then she presses her lips together and looks away, slipping the bag into her tote.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice polite but distant.

Damn it.

We continue walking, the hum of holiday music and the buzz of laughter and conversation all around us. The café comes into view, its glowing windows and rustic wooden sign promising warmth. I hold the door for her, and the smell of chocolate and cinnamon hits us like a hug.

We settle at the counter, and I lean over, scanning the glass display case. “What is that famous Viennese dessert?” I ask Anna. “You had something about it in the file.”

“Sachertorte?” At my nod, she shakes her head. “Sorry, you won’t find that in the market here. Back at the hotel, for sure, though if you want some.”

I don’t want to leave here just yet. There’s something special about this little wooden café and being here with Anna makes it even more special. If she’s determined to make me a memory, I’m going to ensure that every single time she sees twinkling lights, or smells the intoxicating scent of pine, ice and sugary treats, it’s me that comes to her mind.

I take another look at the display case. A server stands waiting, his eyes cheerful behind his small round glasses. “ Guten abend ,” I try, noting Anna’s look of surprise. The server grins and responds in kind. The pastries look amazing, but there’s a slice of something, almost golden and homemade looking the pastry case. I’m hungry because my mouth waters just looking at it. I point it out to the server.

“Ah, Apfelstrudelkuchen ,” the man says enthusiastically, waving his hands. “Best in Vienna!”

“Then I’ll take it,” I say, “after all, I’m known for wanting the best.” Next to me, Anna gives a little snort.

“Gut, gut! Glühwein and Apfelstrudelkuchen. ”

“What was that?”

“ Glühwein is a traditional mulled wine served at the Christmas markets. It’s delicious and you should try it before you leave.”

Is it just me, or did Anna emphasize the words ‘before you leave’? I wish I could get a read on what she’s thinking. If I had a choice, I’d stay longer, make her realize that this thing between us is special.

“What do you want?” I ask.

She steps up to the counter and orders the same cake. The server’s face falls as he explains I’ve ordered the last piece. She bites her lip and there’s more than just disappointment in her expression.

“She can have mine,” I say, leaning in to point out something else. The server nods and rings up our order, waving us over to a small table.

“Max, it’s fine, you should have the cake,” Anna says as I pull out her chair.

“What and deny you the best cake in Vienna?”

“I can have some anytime – I live here, remember? At least for now.”

The server approaches with two ceramic mugs and our desserts. “What is this again?” I ask, sniffing the warm, red-colored drink. It smells like oranges, wine and spice.

“It’s mulled wine, but every recipe is a little different because the flavor depends on the wine and spices used. Try it.” She holds her mug up to mine and we clink.

I take a sip, the spicy sweetness a delicious surprise. “This is fantastic.”

Anna tilts her head in acknowledgement. “I told you. It’s a real treat.” Her eyes fall to my slice of cake.

“Hey,” I say, sliding the plate toward her. “We’ll share.”

“You don’t?—"

“No arguments,” I interrupt, cutting off a small piece and holding it out to her on a fork. “Come on. I’m told it’s the best in Vienna. You’re the expert.”

Her eyes narrow, but then she sighs and leans forward, her lips closing around the fork. For a moment, I forget how to breathe.

I take a bite of cake to stop myself from blurting out something that will make her run away. The flavor explodes on my tongue and my eyes roll back in my head.

Anna laughs. “It’s really good,” she says, waving for me to hand over the fork.

“Good?” I scoff, taking another bite for myself before I pass her the fork. “This is a religious experience.”

She smiles, a real smile and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen all afternoon. I hand her the fork and take the other plate, the one with something called a Kaiserschmarrn, which looks a shredded pancake with apricot jam, raisins and generous helping of powdered sugar.

“So,” I say, after a moment. “What did you mean earlier when you said you live in Vienna, for now?”

She hesitates, swirling her cup as if there were tea leaves in the bottom. “I’m up for a promotion with Luxx. If it goes through, I’ll be moving to the States.”

My chest tightens, hope flaring to life. “The States?” I echo. “Where?”

“New York, probably,” she says, her tone cautious. “It’s closest to Felix.”

“New York is nice,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Luxx has offices in Vegas, you know.”

Her gaze snaps to mine, and I hold it, my heart hammering in my chest. “I know you said this is just a weekend thing,” I continue, keeping my tone light. “But I don’t think that’s true.”

She frowns, her defenses rising. “Max…”

“It’s not true for me, Anna. I don’t want a just a fling with you.” I lean closer. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that first night, two years ago. And after last night…and then this morning.” I shake my head. “I don’t want to scare you off, but I need you to know that.”

Her lips part, and I see the conflict in her eyes. She doesn’t trust this, doesn’t trust me, but I can feel the thread of hope there too.

“I don’t know how it would work,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “You live in Vegas, and you got in a bar fight with my brother the last time you were in the same city.”

“I can’t promise that your brother will ever like me,” I say, reaching across the table to take her hand. “But you’re the one I want.”

She looks down at our joined hands, her fingers tightening around mine. “You make me feel…” She trails off, shaking her head. “I don’t know, Max.” She sighs, but she doesn’t let go and relief floods through me at that smallest of sign.

“Vegas isn’t that far from New York,” I say. “And I’d love to see you wearing my jersey.” God, it hits me hard, the thought of looking up and seeing Anna at a game, wearing my name on her back. I want it so bad, it steals my breath away.

Anna gives a short bark of laughter. “Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, here. I tell you what, I’ll wear your jersey, when you wear a J?ger jersey.” Her phone buzzes and she releases my hand to pull out her phone, her face going pale.

“Anna? What’s wrong?”

Her phone jangles, the sound of a video call coming through, and she pushes her chair back. “I have to take this,” she says rushing out of the café.