Page 70 of Delay of Game

“Anytime,” I say, taking a sip of my own.

“How is your book going, by the way?” he asks, and I groan.

“Who told you about that?”

Jordan frowns at me but says, “Everyone is talking about it. You know that, right?”

My mouth opens but nothing comes out. I’ve been pretty excited to publish my first book, but I didn’t expect anyone would actually care that much about it. My family has always seen my reading as a hobby rather than a large part of my life. I figured the same would go with my writing.

“Are they?” I ask shyly.

“We’re all so proud of you for going after your dreams,” he says, brown eyes boring into mine with so much love and sincerity.

“Thanks,” I say, breaking the contact. “The book is going well, for the most part. I just need a cover. And maybe more time, since teaching is taking a lot of it at the moment.”

“Can I read it?” he asks, and my head snaps up to his.

“No!” I say, louder than I mean to. I would die of embarrassment if he read my book. “I mean, not yet. And since when do you read romance?” I recover, looking at him skeptically.

Jordan shrugs, giving me a small smile. “I’ve read a few.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He rolls his eyes, finishing the last of his coffee and rinsing the mug.

I want to ask him more. Which ones did he read? How did he pick them? Were they smutty? My cheeks burn but before I can ask any of my asinine questions, he says, “I should head out if I want to get to work on time.”

I nod and walk him to the door. “Take it easy, yeah?”

“I will, and—” He stops himself, looking down at his feet and fidgeting, cracking his knuckles.

I get the feeling asking for help is still not something he’s comfortable with, so I give him a break and say, “Hey, Jordan? If you need a stretching partner, let me know.”

His eyes find mine and he gives me another devastating smile, his shoulders relaxing. “I would love that.”

CHAPTER 26

December

Alice

Holiday shopping isone of my favorite things. I know people usually dread it, but I think it’s the perfect time to connect with the community. And fine, maybe it’s also a great time to do some people watching.

This year marks the first time Grand Marquee has ever had a Christkindl market, and I walked the eight blocks over so I didn’t have to deal with the overcrowded parking. My cheeks are numb from the cold, but my smile is wide as I take in the parking lot of the Downtown Market that’s been transformed into a winter wonderland.

There are over thirty vendors here, from food trucks to jewelry makers to local bath and body shops and more. The log cabin-style booths all have signs at the top with the business’s name and garlands surrounding it. In the center of the parking lot stands a massive Christmas tree, lit up in multicolor hues.

I bounce on my feet in giddy anticipation, ready to meet new people and find some gifts for my friends and family. My first stop is the hot cocoa stand, where I order the largest size they have, topped with whipped cream, a toasted marshmallow, and lots of melted chocolate.

I pick up the cutest toys for my nieces, a handmade blanket for Robbie, and custom engraved ornaments for Ash and Eli. When I spot a hand-knit book sleeve, I immediately think of Olivia and how she always complains her books get damaged in the luggage when she travels.

My parents are getting what they always do—a short story. Ever since I was fifteen and discovered my passion for writing, I shared it with them in the form of a holiday gift. It’s become a tradition at this point, and I’ve written them lots of different stories—a thriller about a woman getting stranded in a snowstorm, a fluffy romance about childhood friends, and even a fantasy about elves looking for a missing Santa Claus. This year, it’s a murder mystery set in the 1900s.

The only one I’m struggling to find a gift for is Jordan. He’s always been hard to shop for. He already has everything he wants or needs and it’s impossible to surprise him. Even though I already got him a yoga mat as an inside joke, I do want to find something nice for him.

Something has shifted in our relationship ever since Thanksgiving. At first I thought that maybe I gave in too fast, that I should have held on to my anger. Because what if he does it again? What if he picks up and leaves,again, and leaves me behind? I don’t think I could take it.

I’ve seen him almost daily since that night—at the coffee shop down the street when we leave for work in the morning; at family dinners, which have become more frequent recently; and even at the gym on the first floor of our apartment complex.

---