Page 26 of A Winter Wish

“I’m so sorry, Lexie,” Mike continued, ignoring the tension, “but I can’t join you this evening. I would have loved to spend some more time getting to know you, but I really must catch up on some things.”

“Oh, OK.” She wondered if Ange was somehow behind this.

“But Theo can hold the fort, I’m sure. Ah, there’s the last two,” Mike said, and Lexie turned to see Cynthia, the woman who’d been flirting with Theo yesterday, along with her husband, coming into the lobby. “I’ll leave you to it, then. And don’t you two go sniping at each other all evening—we have a professional reputation to uphold.” He gave Lexie a wink, as if to make it playful, but she still cringed at the condescending tone and next to her, Theo’s jaw clenched. It was the only sign of annoyance he gave, though, before promising to take care of everyone.

Theo led the group out of the hotel and into the town. The light was fading, the sky pink above them, making the whole place glow a dusky orange. Somewhere in the distance, Lexie could hear drums starting up, and though the town generally had a peaceful feel, there was a sense of anticipation in the air, with tourists all heading toward the beach road. Despite herself, Lexie felt excitement hum through her, the drums making her heart pick up speed.

She stayed at the front of the group with Theo. She wanted to peel off, maybe find Lucy, but was too aware of the fact that everyone probably thought she was an insider at R&L, and so would expect her to be taking charge, with Theo. Or maybe an insider would go mingle? She wasn’t really sure.

They passed the Biovès Gardens, the citrus sculptures all lit up, adding a whole new feel to the place. “Do you know,” Lexie mused, “I was half expecting us to be set to work building a sculpture of our own?”

She said it more to herself, but Theo answered anyway. “What, like a weird team-building exercise?”

“No, like, I don’t know, create your own mini lemon sculpture to take home or whatever.”

“Where would you get the lemons from?”

She let out an impatient sigh. “I don’t know, Theo. From the lemon shop? I mean”—she gestured at the enormous lemon sculptures—“I’m pretty sure lemons could be found.”

Theo’s brow furrowed. “Would you get someone to teach everyone how to do it, or just hand out the lemons?”

“Jeez, you aren’t half making it difficult. It was just a random thought—remind me to censor those when I’m around you.”

He glanced at her. “It’s not a terrible idea.”

“You don’t need to sound so surprised—not all my ideas are inherently terrible.” Behind them, she could hear the rest of the group chattering away as they got to the street where the parade would take place. Other tourists and locals were already there, waiting for the parade to begin. The drums grew louder.

He raised his eyebrows. “No sniping at each other, remember?”

“I’m not sniping. This is called talking. It’s where one person says something, then the other person says something back.”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing? This is your version of talking, is it?”

Lexie cocked her head. “Why, what’s your version? Because if you’ve figured out another way to talk that no one else has cottoned on to by now, I’m pretty sure you’re the circus freak, not me.”

He let out a low laugh, and she felt her own lips tug in response despite herself. Felt an unwelcome prickle along her skin, at the sound of that laugh. Don’t go there, Lexie.

They’d reached the Promenade du Soleil now, just by the seafront where the parade would take place, and the rest of the group were craning their necks to look past the other tourists, wanting to get the first look at the giant lemon floats that were now being lit up.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Theo repeated quietly. “The lemon sculpture. I mean, I don’t think people would be able to take them back as a souvenir or anything, but maybe it could be an activity, for those who wanted to. Maybe there’s a local artist we could work with, who might be able to teach a class or something.”

His tone had turned musing, like he was already thinking through the logistics—and Lexie wasn’t sure what to say to that. It had been an offhand comment—and he was taking it seriously.

Luckily, Lucy came up at that moment. “Is it weird that I feel excited?” she asked. “Like a child on Christmas morning or something.”

Lexie laughed. “I think it’s the drums.”

“Yeah. Impossible not to get excited when drums are involved.”

Lexie felt it too, could hear the laughter in the air around them, children sitting on the shoulders of parents, people chatting and pointing around them. It wasn’t a huge space, but instead of feeling overly crowded it felt intimate, like they were all in for a shared experience—locals and tourists alike. See the world through celebration. For the first time, Lexie thought she understood the slogan of the company.

Night had fallen now, the pink sky giving way to blue-black—maybe that added to the whole thing, like they were all sharing in some nighttime secret. And then she caught sight of the floats, making their way down the street toward them. A huge horse came first, rearing up as if it were jumping something, a rider made of lemons sitting on top. It was lit up, and the lights shifted as the float made its way toward them, changing color from the natural bright orange and lemon to an eclectic mix across the whole spectrum. From atop the floats, people threw out confetti, and Lexie, laughing as some landed in her hair, couldn’t help waving back.

There were more floats—a huge tiger, a rowboat complete with oars, a giant snail. She wasn’t quite sure how it was all Olympic-themed, but they were brilliant, each a complete work of art, and the lights added a magical feel to each one. Between the floats were street artists, jugglers who threw lit skittles in the air, women and men in elaborate costumes who performed acrobatics as they walked, their sequins catching the light and glittering as they moved. Even the drums were lit up, the drummers creating a pulse of energy that was impossible not to get lost in. For a while, Lexie was content to watch, to soak up the atmosphere. To marvel at the celebration of a fruit, to think of how cool it was that this tradition had kept going all these years. This was why she loved the way she lived—because she got to experience these things. And apparently, her dad had loved experiencing things like this too—why else would he have started this business?

The parade made its way around the short circuit twice, before the lights were switched off, amid whines and cheers. And then there was bustling as everyone shifted position. “Fireworks now,” Theo explained to the group at large. It turned out he’d reserved seats for them all in the grandstand, leading them up to a higher viewing point. Everyone clambered up into their seats as a couple of early, teaser fireworks were let off. In the rush to get to the grandstand in time, Lexie ended up sitting between Theo and Lucy. Her leg brushed his as they sat and even though he was wearing jeans and she leggings, she still felt the heat of his thigh against hers for a brief moment before he shifted away. She watched the fireworks display get more and more extravagant, purples and reds and blues sparking up the night sky. The cool air bit into her and she shoved her hands into her coat pockets.

She used to go and watch fireworks displays like this as a kid. She remembered a fireworks display in Frome, where she grew up. She, her dad, and her mum had all gone together. She didn’t know how old she had been—but it was before he’d left. She’d been clutching a toffee apple, munching her way through the outside, ignoring the healthy apple goodness in the center. She hadn’t been paying attention, and one moment her mum and dad had been there, and then she’d looked up and they were gone. She’d panicked, dropped her toffee apple. It had felt like there were strangers everywhere, like she was lost, like her parents might not find her. It had only been a minute or two, her mum had told her afterward. A minute or two before they’d found her, sobbing. Her dad had hoisted her up, carrying her for the rest of the evening. He’d managed to cheer her up, had bought her another toffee apple and made a joke of the whole thing. It was a silly memory—what was another toffee apple in the grand scheme of things?—but it had stuck with her, nonetheless.