Page 66 of Falling Like Snow

“You’ll have to get in to find out,” he says, not bothering to contain his excited smile.

I glance at Mom unlocking the house, then back to Asher. “Sorry, but we’re doing movie night.”

“Can I steal her for a little bit, Naomi?” Asher shouts to my mom.

“Just drive carefully, please,” Mom calls over her shoulder.

“I’ll be back for movie night!” I yell.

“The night is young. Go do your thing,” she says before closing the door behind her.

Asher opens the back-seat door and motions for me to get in.

“The back seat?” I ask.

“It’s part of the experience,” he says.

“Which is what exactly?”

“Just get in the car, Sloane.”

I slide in, and he jogs around the car, taking his place in the driver’s seat. He adjusts the rearview mirror and meets my eyes in it.

“Welcome to a Night in New York City, part two.”

Chapter Seventeen

“I didn’t realize there was a part two,” I say as Asher turns around in my driveway.

“Good. That was by design—a much more complicated design than anticipated, I gotta say.”

I lean forward. “Oh? Why’s that? Where are we going?”

He glances at me in the mirror, his eyes giving away nothing. Only his incessant tapping on the steering wheel tells me he’s excited. “Be patient.”

“I’m not good at being patient.”

“I know, which is why you’ll only be in this taxi for a whole thirty seconds.” He nods at the town square ahead. At first I don’t notice anything out of the norm. But as he parks, I catch a glimpse of a strand of lights draped from a ring of green metal posts obscured by the giant lit tree. Asher walks around the car and opens my door.

“I don’t think taxi drivers open doors for people, by the way,” I say, climbing out. “In movies, they’re usually cranky and in a rush.”

“If you want an authentic experience, I can totally be cranky,” he says, grabbing a bag from his popped trunk.

“I think I’m good.”

We trek across the lawn, the frozen sheet of snow crunching beneath our feet, until we circle the tree and I come to a sudden stop, my jaw dropping.

“What the… When—” I shake my head. “I mean, how—” I stammer, gaping at the freaking ice rink now occupying the town square.

Asher’s smile is brighter than the summer sun. “You said you wanted to ice-skate at Rockefeller Center. I was going to take you to Magnolia Lake, but as it turns out, lakes take way too long to freeze—even when it’s this ridiculously cold. Then I had this wild idea to flood the square and let it freeze in layers. I figured here you would have the outdoor rink and the tree.” He lifts his bag and pulls out a pair of worn white figure skates. “I got these from a thrift store. Had them sharpened at the ice arena, but who knows how reliable they really are.”

“You got me skates?” I take the old leather skates from him and hug them against my chest.

He gestures at a bench he’s placed between the only two metal posts without lights. “Let’s try them out?”

I nod, unable to stop grinning. He pulls another pair of ice skates out of his bag—hockey skates for himself—kicks off his boots, and slides his feet into them. Once we’re all laced up, he stands and holds out his hand.

“You don’t look so steady,” I tell him, glancing at his wobbly ankles.