Page 15 of What Happens This Christmas
As we closed the gap to the table, I only nodded, though. Frankly, she was lucky that was all she was getting from me. So, we’d have brunch. We’d chat with William and Dotty about whatever the hell they found amusing lately. Then we’d be on our way.
Practically as soon as we sat down, our server approached us wearing a Santa hat, the white ball hanging so low it was hitting his ear. William and Dotty already had their cocktails but were waiting for us to order.
We’d only been through the expected greetings and niceties portion, and I was already considering plucking my eyes out. Ordering meant that I didn’t have to make more small talk withthem, though, so that was a hole in one. I stuck with crab cakes and a Croque Madame.
Candy was as predictable as ever, ordering a Cobb salad with chicken and a Sicilian vegetable sandwich. Lord knew what William and Dotty had ordered, and really, who cared? I certainly didn’t. Honestly, I cared more about the weather forecast the meteorologists were bound to get wrong, like they usually did, and that was saying a lot. What I did know was that the sooner we got this brunch over with, the sooner we could get to the reason for this weekend—going to the tree farm.
I hadn’t gone to a tree farm and picked out my own tree since I had been a boy and had done so with my father. Candy always insisted on having an artificial tree because it was less messy, and to be honest, it didn’t seem like a terrible idea to do once or even twice, but enough was enough. There was only so much fake crap a man could take. This year, things were changing. Life was messy, so it seemed fitting our tree was too.
The sommelier came to our table next to go over wine pairings, but again, it wasn’t enough to hold my interest. As he blabbered on, my gaze fell on Candy. She didn’t notice me staring at her, and if she did, then she didn’t move an inch, listening intently to the sommelier.
Candy seemed oddly stiff, her back arched and her shoulders straightened. It was as though she wasn’t comfortable, which made no sense because I would’ve thought she was in her element.
Her eyes weren’t burning with anything. They looked void of emotion. Her lips were narrow lines. My cheeks felt like they were on fire, my jaw hardening as I saw what no one else would. The last thing I wanted was for Candy to be anything but happy. It made me want to punch a fucking wall.
I lowered my gaze to where her hands were neatly situated in her lap, her thumb tapping the top of her other hand.Come on,Candy. Look at me.Reaching a hand across to her lap, I gave one of her hands a good squeeze. A surge of electricity shot through me, and I never wanted to stop feeling that.
Our eyes met briefly before she looked down at my hand covering hers. She licked her lips, and I could’ve sworn I saw the pulse in her neck jump. Then, when it seemed like a smile was blossoming, she abandoned it, tugging her hand away and swiping a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. The worst part about it was that the hair had been intentionally placed there by her to frame her face, only accentuating her beautiful bone structure.
Ignoring me completely, she turned to her friends since the sommelier was gone. Honestly, he could have gone to Timbuktu and never come back for all I gave a damn. “What have you both been up to?” she questioned, bringing her hands on top of the table. So, she didn’t want me to touch her again… What was she so afraid of? This felt reminiscent of what had happened between us last night. Candy just kept pulling away. “Any special plans for the holidays?”
I carefully flicked my eyes over her, unapologetically trying to figure out if she’d tell her dear friends that she had just been at a pub with swinging Santas. Seemed unlikely. As unlikely as she would be to enlighten them to our big plans this Christmas—pretend everything was normal.
Dotty smacked her lips, a smile as wide as the Amazon River crossing her face. Forget lights on a Christmas tree, Dotty’s phony smile could light the thing up. “William is taking me to Bermuda. Can you believe it? I’m so looking forward to it.”
Why wouldn’t we be able to believe that? They were young, wealthy, without children, and flaunted their extravagant lifestyle every chance they got. William and Dotty were far from complex. They were disgustingly easy to predict.
With a bewitching smile and eyes that glittered like the jewels she wore on her ears, Candy gasped. “That sounds marvelous.” If marvelous was a synonym for treacherous, then sure, it soundedmarvelous. “You’ll have to tell us how it is. Maybe Nick and I will have to visit next winter.”
Or maybe we’d be living separate lives.
It seemed my wanting a divorce had slipped her mind for the purpose of this conversation.
“Indeed,” I said, decidedly making my big contribution to this little get-together. Not that it mattered any. William seemed to barely speak himself. Dotty was the mouthpiece of their family, just like Candy was of ours. And on that note… “If you’ll excuse me.” I pushed my chair back from the table and exited to the restrooms when, in reality, I had no intention of going there. I just needed fresh air.
It didn’t matter that I wasn’t wearing my coat. The grounds were impressive at the castle, and I wanted to see them. Make that needed to, if I had to sit through that meal with a smile as fake as Dotty’s lips plastered on my face for another second.
Grasping my hands together, I rubbed them, feeling a chill in the air. Although nothing was icier than Candy’s tone of voice or expression these days. They both put the winter weather in New York to shame.
As I walked, I pulled on the back of my neck. Some things couldn’t be fixed, whether fractured or broken, sometimes they were just too far gone. All this Christmas nonsense was just delaying the inevitable, and my marriage was the perfect example. It was a bone-chilling thought, one I didn’t care much for having.
I glanced down at my left hand where the gold wedding band Candy had given me marked my finger. I never took it off. Even when it was hot as hell. I always figured it’d have to be cut off my finger before I ever slipped it off voluntarily.
Shit changed, though, and the woman who had slipped this band on my finger was not the same woman I’d reached out and tried to touch today. No amount of pretending was going to change that. Pulling the ring off, my eyes caught the inscriptionDaddy Nick, reminding me of the inside of Candy’s platinum ring and how it readCandy cane. They were both private nicknames we had for each other…an eternity ago.
I would burn the entire world down for her without a single regret, which was exactly why I needed to let her go. Because, while my obsession for her burned brighter than a thousand suns, my love for her burned even brighter.
Chapter 8
It stands straight
Candy
The audacity of Nick to leave in the middle of brunch, and for what exactly? The way he’d acted still nagged at me as we walked around this precious Christmas tree farm he had been eager to go to. Not that I saw what was so special about it.
Every tree we’d passed by thus far had its own issues, and they were covered in snow. I didn’t see what he had against artificial trees all of a sudden. We’d always had one. They were classy. They were elegant. They matched our home, and guests at our annual Christmas Eve party were always in awe of the tree I’d chosen. Year after year people had taken pictures around our tree, but I couldn’t see how anyone was going to want to use any tree we got here as a backdrop for a photo.
I fixed my green scarf, making sure that it was where it was supposed to be on my neck so that I didn’t catch a chill. My blood was pretty thick from living in New York, but that didn’t mean I wanted to take any chances. I prided myself on rarely falling ill, even from the common cold. Common things like that were fine for people who didn’t have events to coordinate, or houses to decorate, but that wasn’t me. We had been invited to multiple functions, so I couldn’t afford to take chances with my health. Who wanted a sneezing, coughing woman at their event? No one I knew.
