Page 15 of Remain
“Editor, for now,” I laugh. “Romance.”
His brows lift. “Romance.”
“Ironic,” I add quickly.
“No,” he counters. “Actually… it fits.”
I smile, brushing the hair behind my ear, feeling my cheeks flush as red as Christmas garland lining the ceiling. Further down the aisle, something catches my eye.
It’s a snow globe.
Small. Simple. A tiny town square frozen mid-December, glitter suspended in perfect anticipation.
My breath stutters.
My mother loved snow globes. She collected them like evidence that joy could be contained and preserved. One Christmas, I attempted to make one for her. I gathered all of the supplies: a figurine of a mother and a daughter hand carved in sealed wood, a mason jar, distilled water, glycerin and too much glitter.So much glitter.
She cried when she received it.Nailed it.
Over the years, the epoxy failed and the figure started floating awkwardly suspended in the gooey glittery substance. She didn’t mind. I made many mental notes on where it all went wrong.
I reach for it before I can stop myself and the world pauses around me.
Erik notices instantly.
He doesn’t ask. He just steps closer, his hand warm and steady at my elbow, grounding without claiming.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
I nod. “Yeah. Just… memories.”
“Good ones I hope?” The question feels more layered.
I keep my eyes on the snow globe until I can’t resist to look into his deep baby blues. “Mostly.”
He squeezes once and I get my first taste of just how strong his hands really are. The compression helps to bring me back, to ground me despite my mind wandering to thoughts of how Erik might be strong in other ways. When I breathe again, the moment passes.
We keep shopping.
At the checkout, Mrs. Levin rings us up herself, sliding the receipt into The Christmas Kindness Drive envelope.
“Your mother always said the best gifts,” she tells me, “were the ones that reminded children they could be more than what the world handed them.”
I nod, throat tight.
“She was right,” Mrs. Levin adds. “She would be so happy that you are here.”
Outside,the cold snaps against my flushed skin. Snow drifts down, catching in Erik’s hair.
“This is going to be harder than I thought,” I admit out loud.
“The shopping?” he asks.
I hesitate. “Working together.”
A corner of his mouth lifts. “Good.”
“Good?”