Page 52 of What Happens This Christmas
“The only thing that would make this better is frozen hot chocolate.”
I knew full well what I was saying when those words left my mouth. I’d seen Nick’s face at the establishment, and he did not care for the beverage. I wasn’t surprised, but I was also comfortable enough in the moment that I wanted to try to get a rise out of him. It was rare that we acted this way, frivolously spending time and walking in the city, arm in arm. This was something we may have done when we’d first become a couple, or even when we’d become engaged, but never after we’d exchanged vows. Things had shifted and become more serious. More strained actually.
It was different dating Nick Crane than it was being engaged to Nick Crane and, finally, being Mrs. Nick Crane. There were few parallels and many pressures that came with the title. It was a curse as much as it was a blessing, one that I had managed with as much grace and dignity as I could muster.
But I’d also paid a hefty fee, losing myself in it.
I knew that was never what Nick wanted for me, but I also felt like it was too little, too late in some ways.
“Is that what you want?” he questioned, arching a brow as he stared down at me, his eyes filled with nothing but compassion. There were countless reasons why I’d fallen in love with thisman, why I would always love him. This would be one of those reasons.
It was true that Nick always got what he wanted, no matter the consequences. However, it was also true that the things he wanted usually aligned with what I wanted. Except most definitely not in two instances. One being our divorce, and the other being frozen hot chocolate.
“No,” I semi-lied, leaning further into him as I ate the last roasted chestnut in the bag. “This is quite perfect, actually.”
“I assume you’re talking about the nuts.”
I licked my lips, letting the sweet, earthy, and buttery flavors dance on my tongue. “I’m talking about all of it, but the nuts definitely set the mood.” A light chuckle was behind my words, but I kept it in my throat.
We passed a garbage can, and I discarded the empty bag, my hands finally free. So, I curled my fingers around his bicep and sighed, our steps in sync. “Is it unseasonably colder, or is it just me?” Even with my usual scarf, gloves, and coat, I felt it deep in my bones. I suspected Nick wouldn’t agree with me, but asked just the same. He tended to be on the hotter side. I wasn’t talking physical looks, either. He had a hot core, always had. It was one of the reasons he hated to sit in bed when he wasn’t sleeping. Something about the sheets getting warm and ruining any chances he had of falling to sleep quickly.
“It seems you need a little body heat, or the next best thing—friction.” He pulled me tighter against his body and repeatedly rubbed his hand up and down my side. Gaze downcast, I watched him closely, taking in everything about him, wanting to memorize as much as I could in the short period. He looked like a masterpiece, created to perfection by a truly talented artist. Like he was their muse. There wasn’t a single thing I’d change about him. Not even his signature smirk he proffered when he was feeling particularly cocky.
“I can feel you staring at me,” he retorted as I laced our fingers together comfortably. “Don’t look at me like that, Candy.” The tone of his voice was filled with warning.
He was trying to discourage me from looking at him like he was my husband, and I loved him? Because both of those things were true. For the time being, anyway. “How am I looking at you, Nick?”
“Like I hung the moon.”
“So what?”
“It’s bullshit. I’m not some good guy, and you know that.”
“I married you in spite of your flawed character.”
“Not the time to be cute.”
“Nick, you’re not perfect, but who is? So what if you didn’t hang the moon? You’d steal the moon for me if I asked you to. Would you not?” I pushed, my eyes flaring for emphasis, my voice rough with sudden emotion.
That roughness was in keeping with this conversation, though. Nothing about our marriage had ever been soft or easy, so why should this conversation be any different?
A resigned sigh escaped him, and his thumb traced delicately over the top of my hand. “I’d rearrange the stars in the sky if you asked me to.”
As we continued strolling through Central Park, I spotted a man sitting on a bench, playing guitar and singing Christmas carols. I couldn’t have asked for a better backdrop for the moment. The scene was set wonderfully, and I had nothing to complain about. “You know, the other day when I was out shopping with Eloise, I heard about a job opening.” It may have seemed out of the blue to him, but it was something I had been thinking about since it had occurred.
He brought his thumb and forefinger to my chin and lifted it so that I was staring into his eyes. “Hey, you don’t need to get ajob. I’ll make sure the divorce is fair to you. I would never leave you without, you should know that by now.”
I swallowed, my pulse jumping in my neck as being seen and heard by him turned me on, my center pulsing. “I know,” I replied simply, hoping against hope that my voice didn’t crack and give me away. The last thing he needed was the knowledge that I was practically getting wet at something as silly as this.
His hand fell, and there we stood, at a complete stop. Not that it felt like that in my head. It was spinning, but in a good way. A very good way. “It’s not that. I mean, yes, I suppose the thought had crossed my mind, but it had no bearing on this. A designer was looking for an assistant, a serious one, not someone to fetch his coffee, but someone to be involved in the decision-making process and help him here and there.”
He idly crossed his arms, and I knew the muscles in them would be bunching beneath his winter coat as he flexed them, latching his thumb behind his bicep. “Are you going to apply?”
“No. Anyhow, I’m sure he’s already found someone for the job.”
“Oh, so what then?”
I shrugged, my tongue darting out to lick my lips. Suddenly, they felt fiercely chapped. It didn’t make much sense considering the ample amount of lip balm I used on the daily, plus the gloss I currently had coating my lips. Maybe it was the way Nick was looking at me, so intensely, like he was trying to see through me and read my mind.It would be so easy to lose myself in you all over again. Forever and ever in a vicious cycle of not knowing where I end and you begin.
