Page 45 of Holiday at Home
Like he wantsme.
Hearing about his life in New York clarifies a truth for me. This is still my Simon. He’s older, sure. He has experiences I wasn’t around for, but the way he thinks, the way he plans, the way he guides himself so deliberately toward his future—those are all the hallmarks of the man I thought I was going to marry.
The way he knew exactly where to take me tonight to make it feel special?
Classic Simon.
“How many nights did we spend here at the palm grove, sneaking around the lighthouse when we were kids?” I ask as we wander the magically lit boardwalk—the sound of the bay in the distance, the chill in the air causing me to burrow deeper into my coat, the moon rising over the water.
“I was trying to figure that out myself.” Simon wraps an arm around me, drawing me close and I nuzzle in, appreciating his warmth. “It feels like we were out here a lot.”
I nod. “The four of us—me, you, Robbie, and Nora—feeling so rebellious as we wandered the grounds. We always thought it would be like that forever, didn’t we? The four of us, together.”
Simon nods and falls silent, something unreadable flickering in those blue eyes. He leans in close and kisses the top of my head, a sure sign he’s feeling something he’s not saying.
And that’s okay, because I am too.
I’m feeling things I don’t want to mention.
Thinking things I don’t want to say.
I still wish he was my forever.
I still feel better with him than I have ever felt with anyone.
I can’t fathom what my life will be like when he leaves.
I look up at Simon and almost let those truths fly, but I’m not ready to face that reality. I feel whole and real and true for the first time since my parents passed, and I don’t want to ask questions or open topics that will chase those feelings away. I want to cling to this, to him, for as long as I can. I want to wring every last possible moment with Simon out of the time I have left with him. The inevitable sadness that will descend when he leaves? That’s a problem for future Violet, because present Violet doesn’t have the strength in her to chase him away any sooner than he’s ready.
Mom would tell me to trust God’s plan, and Nora would agree without hesitation.
But I’ve never been sure where surrender ends and self-abandonment begins, how to let go without drifting so far I can’t find my way back. I mean, I still have to steer, right?
“You’ve gotten quiet on me,” Simon says, craning to meet my eyes.
“Just enjoying myself.” I smile because it’s true. “Enjoying the company. The atmosphere. The view.”
He stares down at me, his eyes glimmering, the twinkle lights reflecting in his dark hair. “The view is pretty spectacular,” he says, and I get the distinct impression he’s talking about me.
We finish our walk through the palm grove, my hand laced in his. The drive home is over in an instant, and though it’s late and baker’s hours are cruel, I’m not ready for the night to be over. When Simon pulls to a stop in my driveway, I shift in my seat, turning to face him head-on.
“Come inside with me? I have a bottle of wine I could open.”
I expect him to turn me down, to give me a litany of reasons why it’s better for me to go inside and get some sleep before a hard day at the bakery tomorrow, to put my well-being above his own wants and desires, because that is what Simon does.
…except for three Christmases ago. He didn’t put you first then,whispers a cruel voice in my head, but I quickly shove it away.
“I would love that,” he says, surprising us both.
One glass of wine turns into two. Stories of our past turn into existential discussions over our views on the world, small-town simplicity versus big city extravagance, how everything would be better if people thought less about themselves and more about the people around them.
Two glasses of wine turn into three, and our existential discussion falls away into long, lingering looks and fingers brushing and twining, foreheads pressed together, lips grazing as Simon leans close to kiss me.
His hand cups my cheek.
The kiss deepens.
My fingers find his hair, and his arm slides around me, tugging me into his lap. The world narrows to the press of his mouth, the heat of his breath, the sound of my own sigh breaking into the space between us.
