Finding Zoe

CHAPTER THREE A Christmas to remember

“Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas, Zoe Taylor!”

Jazz’s voice pierced through my room like the tinkling of Christmas bells, pulling me from my peaceful sleep. She flung open the bright, beautiful pink curtains by my bed, letting the soft morning light flood the space. My room, designed to perfection by Jazz, was a delicate dance of pink tones. From the bed frame to the curtains and the wallpaper, it wasn't loud or overwhelming. It was the perfect blend of femininity: sassy, classy, and a true expression of myself.

I stirred beneath the warmth of my blankets, the glow of the red bedside lamp flickering in the corner of my eye. Next to it was a photo of Jazz and me, frozen in mid-laughter when she visited me in New York. The brief moment felt like a paradox, as it seemed both distant and so close that it was difficult to reconcile.

“Wake up, Zoe darling, it’s Christmas Day!” Jazz filled her voice with the same unmistakable energy that defined her.

I groaned, stretching until every muscle in my body protested. “Merry Christmas, Jazz,” I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep but tinged with affection.

She laughed, her joy as contagious as ever. “Sorry for waking you up, babe.”

“It’s fine, my love,” I muttered, reaching for my phone. The grogginess vanished in an instant when I saw his name light up on the screen: Luca. A simple but sweet reply to the message I’d sent earlier: Hi, Zoe. Merry Christmas.

Before I could bask in the moment, Jazz’s sharp gaze caught the shift in my expression.

“Hold up! Someone’s already texting you? Last I checked, you have been single all your life, little miss only psychopaths fall for love!” she teased, flopping down beside me with her usual dramatic flair. “Who is he?”

“He’s no one,” I said, feeling a flame flicker to my cheeks under her knowing gaze.

Jazz’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “No one? Babe, I’ve known you forever. That look on your face? It screams someone special.”

I shrugged, trying to act indifferent, but she wasn’t buying it. “Fine, keep your secrets for now,” she said, throwing her hands up in an exaggerated manner. “But what’s the plan for today?”

"To be honest?" I sighed, sinking back into my pillows. "All I want to do is stay in bed and scroll through i********: Reels."

Jazz gasped, clutching her imaginary pearls. “Not! You didn’t wing it all the way here to isolate yourself. We’re going out. Zoe, it’s going to be fun.”

Her enthusiasm gathered momentum like a snowball, and before I knew it, she swept me up in her whirlwind.

“Fine,” I said, surrendering with a dramatic roll of my eyes. “I’m in.”

“Yes!” she cheered. “Get dressed. Breakfast is in thirty minutes, and we’re about to have the best Christmas ever!”

Breakfast was a feast that wrapped around us like a warm hug. We indulged in eggnog French toast drenched in maple syrup, fluffy scrambled eggs, and steaming eggnog lattes, Jazz’s favorite. Each bite reminded me why we should share Christmas with those we call home.

Snowflakes floated down from the sky, each one a delicate, fleeting thing that made the streets shimmer like a scene from a dream.

Our first stop was the Kitsilano Ice Rink, nestled at 2690 Larch Street. The winter air felt refreshing, especially after the warmth of the house.

Jazz, ever the life of the party, parked her car and pulled me out with enthusiasm, her excitement spilling over. In no time, we were lacing up our skates.

“Ready?” she asked while gliding across the ice with the grace of someone who had done this a thousand times.

“Wait for me!” I called after her, laughter escaping my lips while I stumbled a few steps and lost my balance.

“Come on, Zoe! You’ve got this!” she called, skating back to pull me along.

Families, couples, and children skated with ease around us. Their laughter echoed in the frosty air. Jazz swooped in circles around me, her laughter blending with the festive hum of the rink. Her joy was infectious, a wildflower blooming in the heart of winter.

After a few more attempts and more than a few near-falls, I retreated to the sidelines, a little out of breath but happy. Watching Jazz, so carefree and full of life, made my chest ache with a mix of admiration and longing. I missed this version of her, the one who embraced life without burdens and with vibrant energy. We were like two flowers in the same garden, each so different but growing together.

Next, we went to the Vancouver Christmas Market. It was a wonderland of twinkling lights, handmade crafts, and delicious treats. The scent of roasted chestnuts mingled with the sweet aroma of mulled wine, and I could feel the magic of the season in every step we took.

Jazz and I wandered through the stalls, pausing to admire quirky ornaments and sample sweet treats. At one stall, she insisted on buying me a delicate snowflake necklace, a token of the day’s joy.

“It’s perfect for you,” she said, fastening it around my neck with a smile.

“Thanks, Jazz,” I murmured, touched by the gesture.

We watched a few live performances, including a caroling group whose harmonies tugged at my heartstrings. By the time we left, my arms were full of small trinkets and gifts, each one a testament to Jazz’s determination to make the day unforgettable.

By the time we got home, exhaustion had painted us both, but Jazz was relentless. She insisted we dress up for what she called our “luxury Christmas dinner.”

She emerged from her room in a burgundy satin dress that clung to her curves. A tailored camel wool coat that looked straight out of a holiday fashion spread paired with it. She was a vision.

"Still the queen of glam, I see," I teased. I slipped into my outfit: a cream cashmere turtleneck, a high-waisted midi skirt, and a double-breasted trench coat.

At 5 p.m., we headed to Au Comptoir, a charming French bistro bathed in the soft glow of fairy lights. Jazz had made a reservation, and the place was perfect for a special Christmas dinner.

“Welcome,” the waiter said, guiding us to our table, smiling at us, and handing us the menus.

Jazz wasted no time. She ordered her usual favorites: escargots de Bourgogne for starters, duck confit for the main course, and Tarte Tatin for dessert.

“You’ve always been predictable,” I teased, knowing she would never stray from what she had a soft spot for.

“And you’ve always been my favorite critic,” she shot back with a wink.

I chose Soupe à l’Oignon, Steak Frites, and Crème Brûlée, savoring the warmth and familiarity of each dish.

Midway through the meal, my phone buzzed. It was Luca.

Free by 8 tonight. I’d love to show you a special place.

I hesitated; my heart was racing. Is this a date?

Think of it as a tour of your new city through my lens. My driver will pick you up. He texted back.

I set my phone down, a smile tugging at my lips.

“Jazz,” I said, glancing at her. “Would you mind helping me get ready for an outing tonight?”

Her fork froze mid-air, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “Ah-ha! I knew you were up to something! Who’s the lucky guy?” Where did you guys meet, New York, the airport, or even here?

“You’ll find out soon enough,” I said, trying to sound coy, but I could feel my smile betraying me; still couldn’t bring myself to tell Jazz about Luca.

Jazz clapped her hands, giddy with excitement. “You’ve been here less than a day, and you’ve already snagged a date. Zoe Taylor, I’m impressed.”

I laughed; my nerves were a tangled mess of anticipation.

One thing that was certain this Christmas was that it was shaping up to be anything but ordinary.