Page 21 of The Santa Situation
“Just so I’m clear, did you just ask me what I think you asked me?”
A slow smile curved her mouth. “I don’t know. What do you think I just asked you?”
“I think you just invited me inside, where I will finally get to have sex with you.”
She patted my chest, that same teasing glint I’d missed for years lighting her eyes. “I always knew you were smart, Charlie Emerson.”
I didn’t bother hiding my grin. “Please tell me you have condoms, because the last time I bought a pack, Lilah was ten and I’m pretty sure they’ve turned to dust by now.”
Her expression faltered for a moment, then she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin slightly. “So, uh … I had a hysterectomy seven years ago, Charlie. And I haven’t had sex infive. But I’d understand if …” She started to trail off, her eyes flicking away.
Her words hit like a punch to the gut. Suddenly, I was seventeen again, lying on a blanket in the sand under a sky full of stars, Jemma’s hand warm in mine.
“I want a house full of kids,” she’d said, eyes bright with dreams I already knew I couldn’t give her—not when I was leaving for college in a few weeks, not when life was pulling us in different directions. “At least four. Maybe five. A big, loud, chaotic family.”
Then I remembered how, many years later, Maggie had asked if we could make Mrs. Price a casserole because “Eli said his mom had surgery.”
I’d meant to ask Jemma about it the next time I saw her, but then there was the school play Lilah was starring in, Maggie’s science fair, and a water main crisis, and somehow the question had slipped away into the chaos of our day-to-day lives.
Seven years ago, I hadn’t known. Hadn’t been there. Had Todd been there for her? The question twisted in my gut, though I already knew the answer. Her ex-husband had never been there for her—not in any way that mattered.
But that was a thought for a different time. Whatmatteredright now was the way Jemma was holding herself—chin up, braced for rejection.
I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her—not fiercely, not with the heat that had driven us wild earlier, but with something quieter, more tender. “Are you okay?” I asked when I finally drew back.
She nodded. “Yeah. But that’s why Todd and I only ever had Eli. After years of dealing with pain and knowing it was only going to get worse, I decided I deserved some relief.”
I swallowed hard, every instinct in me wanting to tell her I was sorry—but she wouldn’t let me go there.
She held up a hand to stop me from speaking. “I don’t want to talk about the past or what my body couldn’t do,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “But I’ll understand if this changes things for you.”
She stood a little straighter as she spoke. The upward tilt of her chin was pure defiance, but I could see the fear underneath—the way her throat moved when she swallowed, the slight tremble in her fingers.
I shook my head. “Jem.” My voice came out rough, so I cleared my throat and tried again. “Wild horses couldn’t stop me from wanting you. From wanting to be with you.”
I pulled her closer, guiding her head to my chest, wrapping my arms tight around her. Snow melted in her hair where it had caught on our walk up the steps, and I could feel her breathing slow against me. “This changes nothing for me. Do you honestly think I’d care that you can’t have kids? Jem, we’re forty-five, and we’ve both got teenagers who act like we already have one foot in the grave.”
That earned me a wet laugh, and I felt her shoulders loosen slightly.
“But I am sorry you went through that. That you were in pain.” I stopped myself before I could say that I wasn’t there because this wasn’t about my guilt. “I just need you to know there is nothing about your body that would ever make me want you less.”
She was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah.” She pulled back to meet my eyes, and I saw something shift in her expression. “Okay.”
Her hand found mine and gave a small, steady squeeze before she turned the key in the lock. Warm air spilled out, carrying the faint scent of cinnamon and pine. She glancedback over her shoulder. “Now, are you going to stand out here freezing, or are you coming inside?”
Oh, I was definitely going inside.
The house was dark except for the glow from the Christmas tree in the front room, colored lights throwing soft, shadowed shapes across the walls. She moved toward the staircase, her fingertips trailing along the banister as she climbed—slow, deliberate steps that made my pulse drum in my ears.
I lingered at the bottom, watching her go. My hand drifted through my hair, half trying to settle it, half grounding myself in the fact that this was really happening.
After all the years of loving her quietly from a distance, she was finally letting me in.
But not just into her house.
