Jonas froze. “Define real relationship.”
My throat closed. Was I really about to confess this here, in a diner decorated with blinking Christmas lights and peppermint-striped napkin holders?
“I mean I’ve never…” I waved vaguely, mortified. “You know. Been with anyone.”
His fork slipped, clattering against his plate. He coughed, grabbing his water.
“Are you okay?” I asked, wishing I could vanish into the large poinsettia plant nearby.
He swallowed hard, eyes watering. “Yeah. You just…caught me off guard.”
“I know it’s weird,” I blurted. “Twenty-three and never… God, you probably think I’m some kind of freak.”
“No.” His voice was rough, his gaze dark and intent. “Not weird. Just…surprising.”
“It’s not like I planned it. The opportunity just never came with anyone worth it. And then I started traveling, meeting people, and I thought maybe…but everyone was taken, or passing through.”
“Until now,” Jonas said quietly.
The words sparked through me. “Until now,” I echoed.
We stared at each other, the soft croon of Bing Crosby overhead, the clink of plates in the background, all of it fading into nothing but the crackle between us.
“Paige,” he said, low and rough. “I need you to know something.”
My heart thudded. I nodded.
“When I saw you tonight, standing behind that table with your bells, I knew.” He leaned forward, voice husky. “Knew you were going to matter. Knew I wanted to know you.”
“And now?” I whispered.
His eyes darkened. “Now I want everything. And I’m glad you waited.”
“You are?”
“Hell yes.” He brushed my hand with his, the contact sparking through me. “Because it means you’ll experience it all for the first time with someone who’ll treasure every second.”
The intensity in his tone had my breath catching, my whole body thrumming with want.
“Jonas,” I whispered.
“I know this is fast,” he said, his thumb brushing my knuckles, “but I’ve never felt this before. Not even close.”
“Neither have I,” I admitted.
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said firmly. “You’re perfect.”
Tears pricked, unexpected. “I don’t know what I’m doing. With any of this.”
“You don’t have to,” he said. “We’ll figure it out together.”
The door chimed, cold air rushing in along with a group of festival-goers, cheeks red from the night wind, voices merry. Suddenly, the diner was bustling with activity.
Jonas squeezed my hand gently. “Want to get out of here?”
I nodded, desperate for quiet, for him.
We slid out and stepped into the cold night. The air was sharp with pine and smoke from someone’s fireplace. Christmas lights glittered along the street, casting us in red and green.
