Page 123 of Run, Run Rudolph
“What was the dream?” she asked.
“It was about you. We had to…to save Christmas.” My thoughts were cloudy, memories not yet settled. It all felt too make-believe to be real. And yet…it felt real. Like a true memory.
“And?” she asked impatiently.
I tentatively grazed her jawline with my thumb, still unsure how we’d become so comfortable in each other’s arms. I’d missed something big.
Tamara leaned in, inhaling me.
“Rudolph could talk,” I said.
She nodded. “Yes. He can.”
“He can,” I repeated.
“Because he’s real.”
“He’s real?” I felt like a parrot echoing her, trusting her.
I savoured Tamara’s warmth, the feeling of her in my arms. This was real. Not a memory. But it was also a memory, too.
“In Justin’s store this morning, I kept having weird flashes.” It was unsettling. They weren’t memories, but more of a shifting sense of déjà vu. “You and I had broken in. No, not broken in. But we were in there and we shouldn’t have been.”
“And we made out?” The corner of her mouth lifted, her eyes glittering with devilish sparkles.
“Yeah.” I gripped her elbows, pulling her against me as my lips instinctively found hers. It was like my body remembered last night, and wanted to recreate the moments, make the memories more vivid and strong. The kiss was long and slow, her tongue meeting mine, our bodies humming as if they were singing the same song, one composed just for us.
The gauzy mist that had been holding me all day was releasing its hold, almost like a waning spell.
My memory flashed open, revealing one of those secrets it had been keeping. I blurted, “Mrs. Claus is a witch.”
“What else do you remember?” Tamara asked, her words quiet and soft, similar to the way I spoke to an injured animal.
Had I been hurt? Was that why my brain felt so fuzzy today?
“What happened last night?” I asked.
“A lot.”
“Did we save Christmas?”
“I hope so.”
A flood of memories rushed through my mind, little vignettes of Tamara being her sweet self. Helping the animals, trying to right a mounting pile of accidental wrongs.
And locking a cranky elf in the trunk of her car.
I tipped my head back and laughed. This woman. Oh, this woman.
“Tamara,” I asked her softly, “why didn’t I meet you first?”
Her expression softened, her gaze tracing a line across my brow, down my cheek, over my lips and back to my eyes where they locked in place. “You did meet me first. We just weren’t ready for this yet.”
She stepped tight against my body, pressing into me. Her hands slid up my chest with a practised and surprising confidence, as if she knew exactly what was in my heart and welcomed it.
“And how about now? Are you ready now?” I whispered.
She kissed me like this was real, not a dream, and like it could never be taken away.
