Page 56 of Holiday at Home
“Simon, you don’t?—”
“I want to.”
We carry them into the kitchen together. The sink runs, water humming softly under the hush of the house. She’s close enough that her shoulder brushes my arm when she turns to set down a glass, close enough that I can feel the warmth of her body even through the cool air.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“For what?”
“For tonight. For… everything.”
When she turns, she’s still holding a dish towel, her hair slipping from its clip, her lips parted like she wants to say more but can’t quite find the words.
The lights from the living room spill across her face, soft and golden.
I take the towel from her hand and set it on the counter. “Violet.”
Her name leaves my mouth like a prayer.
She looks up, breath catching, and that’s all the invitation I need.
My hand finds the small of her back, her fingers curl in the front of my shirt, and for a heartbeat the world goes completely still—just candlelight, music, the sound of our breathing.
I touch her cheek, brushing a strand of hair away. “You have no idea what you do to me,” I murmur.
Her eyes search mine. “I think I might.”
Then she rises onto her toes and kisses me. It’s tender at first, but there’s nothing tentative in it—only the ache of years apart and the wonder of finding each other again.
It’s slow, searching, reverent. She tastes like red wine and peppermint, like something sacred and impossibly sweet.
Her hands slide up to my neck, drawing me closer. The kiss deepens, melting the rest of the world away until there’s nothing left but heat and breath and the quiet rhythm of two hearts finally finding the same beat again.
The garland on the cupboards brushes her shoulder as I lift her onto the counter. Her knees part instinctively, pulling me in until the space between us disappears. The rhythm of our hearts finds a slow, matching beat. Her fingers slide into my hair, tracing the back of my neck as if memorizing me all over again.
The ornaments on the tree in the next room jingle softly when we bump the wall. Somewhere outside, the wind stirs the chimes on her porch. Inside, Christmas light flickers over her skin, over us, wrapping everything in gold.
She laughs softly against my mouth, a warm, husky sound that goes straight through me.“It’s amazing how right this feels.”
“I don’t know why either of us are surprised,” I whisper against the corner of her lips. “We were always good together.”
And I don’t just mean in bed. I mean in everything, every way.
Her reply is a quiet sigh and a deeper kiss, her nails scratching lightly against my back, her heels digging into my hips. “Stay with me again tonight?” she whispers and I nod, help her off the counter, take her hand, and lead her upstairs.
24
Violet
My head rests on Simon’s chest, his arm draped around me. My heart races, his does too, our chests heaving, sweat gathering at our temples. I lie quietly as emotions churn through me. Relief. Gratitude. Safety…
Love.
Yes, love.
Probably not new love. Probably a resurgence of the way I used to feel for him.
But love, nonetheless.
