Luckily, the morning was crisp and clear, and Roxanne remembered the way back to Mark’s cabin. She grabbed the keys to her father’s old pickup from the bowl he kept them in in the kitchen, wrote a small note of apology that promised she’d return soon, and said a silent prayer she’d remember how to drive a stick shift.

She stalled out once or twice before she gotten the hang of it, but in only a few minutes’ time she was moving smoothly over the snow, which had hardened overnight into something more navigable. The tracks from the Snowcat’s tires were still visible, and Roxanne used them as a guide as she traced her steps back the way they’d come the previous day, toward the comfortable little cottage Mark kept a few miles away from her parent’s place. Along the way, she passed her BMW, and just as Mark had described the car gave no indication it had been in an accident at all. Roxanne tapped the brakes and slowed to a crawl as she passed. It was covered in snow, but otherwise looked perfect—as if she’d simply pulled off the side of the road, parked, and walked away. Yet, she was sure something had dashed out in front of her that had made her spin out of control. She shrugged and kept driving. With every mile, her heart beat a little faster, and even though it was a short drive, by the time the cabin loomed into view, she’d exhausting every calming tactic she knew and her heartbeat had reached a crescendo.

When she was close enough to the cabin to walk but far enough away that she hoped Mark wouldn’t hear the rumble of the truck’s engine, Roxanne pulled to a stop, secured the brake, and killed the motor. She inhaled a deep breath of air for courage, and tried to talk herself out of starting the truck back up and taking off. She had made the decision to drive to Mark’s and then done it, but she hadn’t actually thought about what she would say when she got there. Would he even want to see her? Did he feel the same way? What if he hadn’t heard the same bells that she had? She might be walking headfirst into a collision with humiliation, and made her feel sick just thinking about it.

Roxanne took a few deep breaths, and then she opened the driver’s side door and charged toward the front door of the cabin. She rapped on the door and listened to the sounds of shuffling inside that followed.

“Hang on, boy,” she heard Mark’s voice, presumably speaking to Bogie, and the sound of glassware clinking. In her mind she saw Mark relaxed on his sofa, a mug of cinnamon-scented coffee in one hand. Maybe he had been reading, or maybe just staring silently into the fire. The thought made her warm.

“Do you believe in fate?” she blurted out the moment the door swung open and Mark’s face appeared in the doorway. She tried not to notice that he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and that his flannel pajama bottoms were hanging dangerously low on his hips.

“Roxy, is that you?” he asked in disbelief, while simultaneously he pulled a fleece jacket she had been too distracted by his glorious abs to notice he was holding over his arms. He zipped it up part way, rubbing his hands on his arms to temper the sting of the frosty outside air. Roxanne could hear a roaring fire cracking behind him. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

Mark’s voice was all concern, but Roxanne waved it away. “Do you?”

“Do I believe in fate?” he echoed, crinkling his nose.

“Yeah,” she said, sucking in a deep breath of air. “Like, fate bringing two people together. I mean, I didn’t even want to come to Vermont for Christmas. And then I did, and I was almost to the cabin, and then I had that accident. I don’t even know what happened, and the more I think about it the more I don’t think anything actually did. But, if it hadn’t been for that then I wouldn’t have met you, and I wouldn’t have…” Her voice trailed off as her words failed her. She was rambling, and he wasn’t saying anything, and she was starting to have a hard time not feeling really silly about it all.

A teasing smile appeared on Mark’s face, and he stepped out of the doorway and into the open air in front of her. “Are you asking me if I believe in love at first sight, Roxy?”

She sighed. Shivered. Maybe this was stupid, but the tone in Mark’s voice wasn’t condescending. It was something else entirely. His voice was low and breathy, and inviting. “Yes. No. Maybe—” she shook her head—“I don’t know. I just know when I’m with you I see myself more clearly, and now that I’ve seen that version of me I no longer see her without you. I know it’s only been two days, but I feel like it was the first two days of the rest of my life. Is that crazy?”

She was still talking, but Mark’s arms had risen around her. He was looking down at her in the patient way that he did, and a smile was flickering on the corner of his lips. “Crazy?” he laughed. “Probably. I don’t know if I believe in love at first sight,” Mark said, and Roxanne felt a piece of her heart break, “but I do believe in the magic of Christmas, and finding you has been the best Christmas gift that I could have ever received.”

He was holding her now, and as the feel of his arms around her filled her body with warmth, the sound of bells sung once more in her ears. She closed her eyes and let herself get lost in his arms, and when she opened them she started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Mark asked somewhere over her head.

“Look up,” was all she could say. Hanging above their heads in a bright burst of green and red among the wooden rafters of the porch was a large bulb of milestone. The memory of their first kiss returned, and Roxanne was glad she was safely in Mark’s arms, else her knees might have buckled beneath her.

“What in the world? I swear I didn’t hang that there.” Mark’s voice was incredulous.

“Must be another bit of Christmas magic,” Roxanne mused, angling her head toward his.

“Well,” he shrugged and his body moved around hers. He looked down at her, and the sound of bells was distinct now—as if Santa himself had just landed his sleigh on the lawn behind her back. “Rules are rules. Are you up for another kiss under the mistletoe?” he asked, touching his palm to the underside of her jaw.

“I am,” she laughed, and a deep breath later Mark’s lips were on hers. As he kissed her one more time under the mistletoe, Roxanne finally understood the strength of a little bit of Christmas magic.

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