Finding Zoe

CHAPTER FOUR Whispers Beneath the Mistletoe.

Jazz's favorite Christmas playlist produced a gentle hum that filled the house. It blended with the faint crackle of the fireplace. She stood in front of my vanity mirror. Her hands moved with practiced ease as she braided a few strands of my hair. The rest tumbled in soft waves over my shoulders.

“Zoe Taylor,” she said, her voice a playful mix of mischief and affection, “you’re about to make this city’s eligible bachelors weep with regret.”

I laughed, despite the nervous fluttering in my stomach. “Jazz, it’s not that serious. It’s … a tour," he said.

She paused, giving me a skeptical look through the mirror. “A tour? Babe, men don’t organize tours. This is a date. Trust me.”

Her words made my cheeks flush. I glanced at the hem of my emerald-green wrap dress, fiddling with the fabric as self-doubt crept in. The dress hugged my figure in the right way, simple yet elegant, the kind of look Jazz always called “effortless allure.”

“Do you think I’m overdressed?” I asked, uncertainty thick in my voice.

Jazz stepped back, her gaze sweeping over me with an approving nod. “Not a chance. You look perfect. Now, take a deep breath and remember who you are, Zoe Taylor, the girl who can own any room she walks into.”

The rumble of an engine pulling into the driveway made my heart skip a beat. Jazz peeked through the curtains, then turned to me with a conspiratorial grin. “Your chariot awaits, Cinderella.”

Rolling my eyes but unable to suppress a smile, I grabbed my coat. Pausing at the door, I turned back to her. “Thanks, Jazz,” I said in a gentle voice.

She winked. “Go knock his socks off.”

If there is one thing I have learned from this year, it is the fact that the love from my best friend is far better than the one my mom would ever show me. She is there for me through thick and thin and still is.

The car ride was a blur of city lights and the soothing notes of soft jazz playing through the speakers. The driver, a kind-eyed man who looked to be in his fifties, kept the conversation under the radar, which I appreciated. My thoughts were too busy swirling as I stared out the window, watching Vancouver transform under the soft glow of the night.

When we arrived, my breath caught. Luca stood by the entrance to a rooftop garden, his silhouette framed by delicate strings of golden fairy lights. Snow fell in gentle flurries, blanketing the garden and railings like powdered sugar on a holiday dessert.

“Zoe,” he greeted, his voice warm, his smile disarming. He wore a tailored charcoal coat layered over a gray turtleneck, maintaining his usual stylish appearance. “I’m glad you came.”

I smiled, my nerves melting away under his steady gaze. “This is beautiful. Thank you for inviting me.”

He led me to a table near the garden’s edge, where the city stretched out below us in a breathtaking panorama. The twinkling lights mirrored the stars above, and for a moment, we felt suspended between two worlds.

“I thought this place might be a good introduction to the city,” Luca said as we settled into our seats.

“It’s incredible,” I murmured, still taking it all in. “I didn’t know Vancouver could look like this.”

His gaze lingered on me, his smile soft. “It’s even better with the right company.”

Crimson spread to my cheeks, and I turned my attention to the menu with haste. Luca ordered for both of us a warm, hearty dish perfect for the season. As we ate, the conversation flowed with ease. He told me about his work, his love for art, and the story behind how he discovered this hidden gem of a rooftop.

“What about you?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes steady on mine. “What brought you here?”

I hesitated, unsure how much to share. “A different dawn," I said finally. “I wanted to explore writing opportunities, and Jazz… she’s always been my anchor.”

“She seems like a good friend,” he said, his lips quivering with a knowing smile.

“She is,” I agreed, a fond smile tugging at my lips; I am so crazy about her.

The evening passed in a haze of laughter, quiet moments, and shared stories. As we stood by the railing, the snow fell in gentle flakes around us; Luca turned to me. “Zoe, I want to show you something.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notebook. He flipped it open. It revealed a sketch. It was a dreamlike rendering of the view before us. The cityscape had a surreal quality that made it feel almost alive.

“You drew this?” I asked, stunned.

He nodded, a faint flush coloring his cheeks. “I’m not great at it, but it helps me process things. This place is where I come when I need clarity.”

I traced the lines of the drawing with my eyes, feeling a strange sense of connection. “It’s beautiful,” I said in a gentle voice.

“So are you,” he replied, his voice a whisper.

The air between us shifted, thick with unspoken words. Before I could respond, my phone buzzed in my pocket, breaking the moment. I glanced at the screen; Jazz’s name lit up.

“Sorry,” I murmured, stepping aside to answer.

“Hey, babe,” Jazz’s voice chirped. "Checking in. How’s it going?”

I glanced back at Luca, who rested his hands in his slacks, watching me with a relaxed smile. “It’s… amazing,” I admitted, my chest swelling with a mix of guilt and exhilaration.

“I knew it!” Jazz laughed. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Noted,” I said, hanging up with a shake of my head.

When I returned to Luca, he was still standing by the railing, his gaze thoughtful. "Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Jazz is jazz."

“There's something I wish to communicate to you,” he said and looked me in the eye, jazz, and I.

“Are ex-lovers,” I said immediately, though my chest tightened at the thought of how complicated this could all become.

I know why she ended things with you; I too prefer not to talk about it, I countered.

Luca seemed to sense my hesitation. “Zoe, whatever this is… I want it to feel right for you. No pressure.”

His words were a balm, easing the knot in my stomach. I smiled, grateful for his understanding. “Thank you,” I said, meaning it.

As we wandered closer to the garden’s edge, the sound of music began to drift through the speakers. The familiar melody of "Mistletoe" by Justin Bieber filled the air, lightening the atmosphere with its playful charm.

“It’s the most beautiful time of the year,” I began to sing in a gentle voice, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Luca turned to me, his lips quaking in amusement as he joined in. “I should be playing in the winter snow, but I'm going to be under the mistletoe…”

We sang together, our voices blending as the snow cascaded in delicate drops around us.

“With you,” I sang, my voice trembling with a hint of apprehension.

“Shawty, with you,” Luca echoed, stepping closer.

The song faded into the background as we stood there, mere inches apart. His hand reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. His touch lingered, his thumb grazing my cheek with a tenderness that made my breath catch.

“Zoe,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

“Yes?” I whispered in a voice that was almost inaudible over the pounding of my heart.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine with a tenderness that sent a shiver racing down my spine.

Every nerve in my body was alive. My emotions were a chaotic mix of surprise, joy, and a deeper, unsettling romance.

It was a kiss, our first kiss underneath the mistletoe, in variance to any I had shared: deliberate, gentle, and brimming with unspoken words. His warm lips moved against mine as if they always belonged together, contrasting with the cool winter air. My knees felt weak, and my hands instinctively gripped the lapels of his coat, steadying myself as the world seemed to tilt.

My heart raced with the intensity of the emotions, overwhelming yet comforting all at once. Time seemed to stop; the world around us faded into nothingness.

When we finally pulled apart, I opened my eyes to find him watching me, his gaze warm and full of wonder. I could see the soft smile playing on his lips, mirrored by the one on mine.

The rooftop garden had become a memory, etched in my heart. It radiated a delicate brightness like the luminary strands above us.