Page 62 of Hostile for the Holidays

“Amanda.”

“Yeah, Amanda. When she was driving off in the car, and realized she didn’t want to leave him like that. She let down her guard and took a chance.”

Stella smiles in approval.

“What’s your favorite part?” I ask.

“When Amanda and Graham are lying in his girls’ fort and it’s got all the twinkle lights and cozy blankets and pillows. And they look at each other and just know that there’s something between them.”

Her smile is radiant. And genuine.

I love Stella’s smile. I’ve seen it from afar, but I’ve never been in the direct line of it like I have the last few days. It’s like basking in the warmth of the sun on a perfect spring day after a long winter in the shadows. It’s addictive and I want more.

I want Stella to be mine. For real. It’s what I’ve always wanted.

It takes some effort and some imagination, but we build our own makeshift fort in the living room near the fireplace, then pull the pillows and comforter off the bed and set them up inside.

She slips her hand under the hem of my shirt. My abdominals contract under her fingers’ exploration. Her touch istender and playful, nothing like how urgent and rushed most of our intimate time has been.

“Where are you going to live in New York?” she asks.

“I haven’t found a place yet. Do you have a recommendation?”

“I live in Chelsea. There are some great places in my neighborhood. I guess it depends on what you want to be close to.” She pushes farther up my shirt, finding my nipple and rubbing her thumb across its surface. “Like your office, or things you enjoy like going to a particular gym or being close to the High Line if you like to run.”

I nod, loving the feel of her hands on me. “All good things to consider.”

“Remember how you said there were millions of people in New York City and we’d probably never run into each other?” she asks.

“Yeah.” I had said it to make her feel better about me moving there, not because I wanted it to be the truth.

“What if we wanted to?” Her eyes lift to mine and I see that same vulnerability in them that was there when she was sick on the plane with her head in my lap.

“What are you saying, Stell?” I nudge. I need her to give me something more.

“I like you, Jasper,” she whispers. I can’t contain my smile.

“I like you, Stella.”

“So maybe we can like each other in New York, too.”

“I’d like that.”

“There’s so much liking going on between us. I don’t know how to deal with it,” she confesses.

I know this is harder for her. I’ve loved her for years and this is all new to her.

“We can figure it out together.”

With the fire roaring beside us, we kiss for hours. Exploring each other slowly, teasingly. Stella strokes me while I slip my fingers into her panties and play with her clit. We come apart together, then I hold her all night under the canopy of our makeshift tent.

The next day is more of the same.

We play Holiday Monopoly and Stella wins, but she gives me a conciliatory blow job that makes me feel like I’m the real winner.

After we decorate the gingerbread houses I had delivered, we find a sledding hill nearby where we use the sleds provided at the cabin. I crash into a tree, breaking one sled. Stella’s concerned I hurt myself and even though I’m fine, I let her fawn over me. Then, we share her sled for the rest of our time on the hill. I take a million selfies with her and save one to my phone’s lock screen.

We cook dinner together. Spaghetti and meatballs with salad and garlic bread. We open another bottle of wine, and Stella dresses in her finest lingerie but ends up stealing my sweatshirt because she’s cold.

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