December 14th

"You didn't have to do that," Emily insisted as they departed the cafe together. "I'm a big girl, I can save myself from one awkward advance..."

"I know," he agreed, "But I thought this would be faster."

She rolled her eyes as they walked arm in arm down the block, just in case Andrew was watching. "I was trying to be nice."

He shrugged away her concerns. "And I put him out of his misery."

She raised a brow. "Being interested in me is miserable?" she asked, tone dangerous.

"Only if there's no hope of having you," he replied smoothly.

"Smooth talker," she muttered. Then, "I think we're far enough away that you can let go now."

He obeyed, albeit reluctantly. Not wanting to let the moment end, he suggested, "The little Christmas market is on today – want to accompany me?"

She considered for a moment, eventually deciding she had no reason not to.

Derek was trying not to think about how intimate it felt to wander the little booths with Emily, watching her eyes light up when she spotted a glittering ornament or a cute baby outfit. Trying, but not necessarily succeeding...

There was just something so breathtaking about the glitter of snowflakes on her dark hair, the pink of her cheeks from the cold, the ghost of a smile on her lips and it made him want to blurt out something part of her had been keeping secret since he was eight.

Instead, he said the first thing he could find to distract her and, more importantly, himself... "Hey, check it out, is that a tarot reader?"

She arched a brow. "I didn't know you believed in tarot..."

He shrugged. "I'm full of surprises, Princess. You should get a reading."

"I don't think so," she scoffed.

"Why not? You scared?" he mocked.

She rolled her eyes. "No."

He smirked. "I think you are... Come on, chicken. I'm buying."

Huffing, she grumbled, "Fine. But just so you stop bugging me."

It was well past midnight, but Emily couldn't fall asleep. Her mind kept replaying the words of the so-called psychic...

She'd sad that Emily didn't need to worry about her child. That they were going to grow up knowing how much they were loved – not just by her, but by their father as well. That they would be happy and healthy and never want affection.

But that wasn't the part that echoed through her mind on endless repeat.

The psychic had insisted that love was in the very near future. No matter how many times Emily had argued that there was no way that was true, that it couldn't be. According to the cards, there was an old flame that was still smouldering and would be relit any time now. In her exact words, it had already been written...

At the time, she'd thought it complete and utter nonsense. But, as she lay awake hour after hour, something started to percolate in her mind...namely, the letters. The letters in which her pen pal had claimed to be falling in love with her.

Was it possible that she not only already knew her pen pal, but was destined to fall for him too?

Dear Silver Belle;

It's over halfway to the big reveal and I'm starting to get a little nervous. What if I'm not what you're picturing? What if you've built me up in your mind and I fall short? I don't usually get nervous around women, but you've got me all twisted up in knots.

Humour me a little... If this all works out and one day we get married, what does Christmas look like for us, ten years down the road? Are we vacationing in some tropical island to get away from the snow and crazy relatives? Do we have a bunch of rugrats opening presents in front of the fire? Is there a ring on your finger? Is there a matching one on mine? Are we happy?

I know you're afraid, that you're still healing...but I think there's a magic in dreaming about the future, in having faith that everything is going to work out for the best.

- Pilgrim

Before Emily had met Clyde, she'd been dating Mark.

Mark had been a nice guy and she'd liked him well enough. He just didn't light that fire inside her that told her what she felt was love. She didn't tell him that, of course. She had a feeling that maybe, on some level, he knew though.

Mark had been the one who introduced Emily to Clyde...

The two men had played pre-professional soccer together in the UK and had been good friends. They'd both been drafted by American professional teams and made the journey across the Atlantic together. During practice one day, though, Mark had injured his knee, forcing him to retire from the sport. After that, he and Clyde had drifted apart.

It would be several years later before the two reconnected when Clyde moved to their small town to coach the local youth soccer league. It was at that point that Mark introduced Emily to Clyde.

Emily had instantly felt the spark, almost from the moment she laid eyes on Clyde. The two had shared a little smile and almost immediately, Emily had known she'd just met her future husband.

Truthfully, she hadn't thought about Mark in years. But the psychic's words had reminded her of what they'd had and started her wondering if perhaps Mark was her pen pal. Which is why that morning she'd headed down to the newspaper office where he worked as a sports writer with a coffee and a fresh blueberry muffin from the bakery.

If he'd been surprised to see her after so long, he hid his surprise well. "Emily!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?" He stood from his desk, embraced her as best he could around her belly. "Long time no see..."

"I know," she agreed. "I've just been thinking lately that I never really gave you my condolences for Clyde's death. I know you two were good friends and it must've been difficult for you to lose him."

He nodded sadly, but offered her a smile of thanks.

"This might be a little out of the blue, but would you like to get coffee and catch up sometime?" she suggested.