If nothing else, Vermontians love their festivals. And the college kids in this college town of Thistle especially; give them any reason to day drink and buy material goods and they’re sold.

I have to say, Chili and Cheese Fest is one of my favorites out of all of these bullshit “holidays.” Because … well, chili is delicious and so is cheese.

Three of the main downtown streets have been cordoned off, tents and people filling the roads as they mill about, looking at and buying from all of the vendors who’ve flocked to display their treasures at the festival.

“This is so … pedestrian. And I bloody love it!” Eloise spoons another mouthful of chili past her lips, examining her scorecard as she goes.

She’s having way too much fun with this contest.

“You are going to turn into chili.” I chuckle, trying the next sample for myself.

Her face is utterly serious. “This is a competition, love. We have to judge all of them, and fairly. How else will they know who has the most delicious bowl?”

She tips her chin at me like she’s just served me knowledge on how this festival works. “Yes, ma’am. Then we will stuff ourselves until we turn into ground beef and tomatoes.”

“And beer cheese. I mean, who knew there was such a thing, or that it was so delicious.” Her enthusiastic grin mirrors my smile.

I love watching her chow down on American food, and corrupting her elegant palette with things like beer cheese.

“Should I get you your own tent, you could make your own chili. Or beer cheese. I could lay naked on the display table—”

She slaps her hand over my mouth. “Hush, love, you’re going to get all of the ladies in this crowd too excited. And I don’t cook in tents. No offense.”

No, she wouldn’t, would she. “You still haven’t cooked for me, Miss Five-Star.”

“I’m not sure if you’ve earned it yet.” Her smile is devilish.

“Oh, I think I have. But if you need more convincing.” 

So many things occupy my brain these days that it feels like it might explode. It’s funny, I thought I had so many problems before Eloise came into my life. But she’s opened up a whole new can of worms, not that I’d have it any other way.

First there is the Mac thing, which I know to be resolved but I’m still always cautious. It could come out to bite me in the ass at any moment. There are still hairs on my neck that stand up whenever someone mentions one of our losses during the season, and we are now champions.

Then there is the rape cover up. Even thinking the words makes bile rise in my throat. I’m still trying to piece it together, wrap my mind around it, and get some intel. Eloise wants to move now, expose it all, but I keep pushing her off, needing more time before I bring the boys who have been my family tumbling to the ground.

And lastly, but most importantly and at the forefront of my mind, is Eloise leaving. And the fact that she hasn’t told me she loves me yet. I keep holding my breath, thinking she’ll spill the words in the middle of an orgasm, or as we fall asleep at night. Or maybe as we drive out into the night after dinner, the open winding roads of Thistle threatening to bring the romantic out in her.

But she hasn’t yet, and I can’t deny the itch in me, the need for her to affirm that she has the same feelings.

We wander into a tent with handmade jewelry, and of course my girl is in heaven. So far, she’s bought a soy candle handcrafted by a local artisan, some organic soaps, a knitted scarf and some other items I can’t remember.

She fingers a bunch of necklaces, slowly making her way through the booth and chatting with the owner about how she started her business. I spot a particular necklace that catches my eye.

It’s a small charm on a thin silver chain, the necklace longer than normal. The sparkle of the charm is what draws me toward it, but when I finally get up close, I know I have to get it for her. The most delicate snowflake dangles off the middle of the chain, white and silver crystal intertwined. It’s small, but so elegant that it reminds me of Eloise automatically.

I loop it around a finger, bringing it up to the makeshift register in the tent. Eloise is too busy holding up earrings to her lobes to watch as I purchase it, until I’m done and the woman is putting it in a box for me.

“What do you have there?” She finally wanders over to me.

I offer her my hand and she takes it, lacing our fingers together. Leading her gently out of the tent and through the crowded street out, I don’t speak until we are tucked away on a bench under a big overgrown tree away from much of the bustle.

“Did you know that no two snowflakes are made alike?” I pull the necklace from the box, holding it up so that the charm dangles for Eloise to see. “Every single one has a different pattern, a different makeup. I saw this in that little tent shop, and it made me think of you. Because before we met, I was going through life seeing every single person as the same snowflake, no one had the makeup to catch my eye, or to make me stare in wonder. Until you, that is. Your uniqueness, it draws me to you. We may not have remotely the same makeup, but there is no one I’d rather float through life with. That may be corny, but I hope when you wear this, you remember that. And you remember the little slice of Vermont that is always here waiting for you.”

I watch her eyes as I speak, the incredible blue becoming more and more misty at my words.

“Lord, Colton, that is just … beautiful. You’re making me cry. I’m British, we don’t do tears in public!” She jokingly hits me, softly enough that she keeps her hand on my arm where it lands.

I hold out the necklace, motioning for her to turn so I can put it on. She smiles a wobbly grin at me and does, and I fix the clasp around the back of her beautiful column, planting an open-mouth kiss on her nape before moving away.

She lays a hand on the necklace where it falls halfway down her shirt. We don’t need to talk about it, although part of me is holding my breath to see if she says that four letter word.

But my hope with this gift is just that she remembers me, and our time here, no matter what happens.