Page 31 of Holiday at Home
I inwardly grimace but say nothing. Can’t exactly say I blame her.
“I’ll consider myself lucky all right. Look at you, smiling. Dare I say it… having fun.”
“Yes, yes, yes. You were right. A little company, a little decoration—good for the soul. Blah, blah, blah.”
We finish decorating the tree, set out the rest of the ornaments, then dim the lights and sit on the couch to admire our handiwork. A soulful rendition ofI’ll Be Home for Christmascomes through the speakers, and before I think twice, I set down my wineglass, take hers, put it on the table, and pull Violet into my arms.
We sway in the living room. She’s soft and warm, fitting exactly as she’s supposed to. Like she never left my arms. It feels so good, so right. Violet drops her head to my shoulder, her breath whispering against my skin. I drape my arms around her, fingers sliding under the fabric of her shirt to the soft skin of her back. A sigh escapes me—contentment, like an ache in my heart I didn’t know existed has finally been soothed.
I press a kiss into the top of her head. She stiffens, then pulls back, palms flat against my chest.
“Sorry,” I say. “Got carried away again.”
“Yeah,” she replies. “Me too.”
The energy of the evening dulls after that. The smiles feel forced. The jokes land flat. And I realize how much I hate it being this way between us. How much I've missed her these past three years. How much of me never stopped loving Violet Sterling.
Watching her thaw?
Seeing bits and pieces of the woman I used to know peek out, like the first hints of green in spring? It's perfect. It's wonderful. I want more.
I know I should talk to her about the contract. The longer I wait, the harder things will be. But I don't want to ruin what I've started. I don't want to watch her freeze over again.
I don't want to lose her again.
And considering my life and livelihood are in New York, I don’t know what to do about that.
13
Violet
“One peppermint mocha. A pair of fuzzy socks. A holiday candle. A bag of those nummy peppermint candies that melt in your mouth…” I trail off, looking at the row of hand-drawn cards lined up on my mantle. “Every morning for the last week and a half, there’s something new, Nora. I don’t think he means anything by it. It’s just Simon being sweet. But every time I see another card, I can’t help but hear the lyrics he didn’t write in my head.‘On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…’”
“True love, huh?” Nora teases. Her tone is gentle, but I can tell her inner guard dog is bristling.
“Like I said, I don’t think he means anything by it.”
Except every time we’re together, that feels less and less true. And Simon doesn’t do anything without thinking it through from every angle at least twice.
At least, that used to be true.
This new version of Simon does seem a tad more impulsive.
“Then why did he kiss you?”
Good question.
“Old habits?”
“Maybe I can give you that one, but I still get hung up on why he suddenly delayed the ski trip with his family.”
“That I can’t tell you. He said it had something to do with business.” But something about that answer, while perfectly plausible, rings false. He also said he was only waiting a couple days to join them… those couple days have passed several times over now.
“You know I’m glad you’re not alone,” Nora says. “But please be careful.”
“I will be. We both know he’s leaving again. I’m not setting myself up for anything. It’s just… nice having him around. After how hard everything’s been lately, I decided to be okay with that.”
“I can’t argue with you there. I mean, I didn’t think you’d ever get the tree up. And I can hear life in your voice again. I just don’t want to see you hurt again.” She muffles the phone, then: “What’s that, Nash? You want to say hi? Okay, go ahead.”
