Page 16 of Back to December
That inner voice that I like to think looks a lot like a cartoon version of me—like Lizzie McGuire—is screaming at me right now about not committing already. One thing at a time, little Laila, all right?
One thing at a time.
The bell over the door to The Magic Crumb dings as I swing the door open. I’ve always loved the warmth of all the wood in this bakery, but not more than I love the cacophony of smells that swirl around me. Cinnamon, sugar, pumpkin. It’s like stepping into a warm hug.
When Holden appears behind the counter to greet me, his face brightens tenfold.
“Laila?” he asks. “What are you doing here?”
By the time he ducks around the counter and gets to me, we’re both smiling like two idiots. I don’t even care. All theanxiousness I’ve felt today soothes and settles as he wraps both arms around me.
“Wedding business,” I mumble into his hair.
Holy moly, he smells amazing. Healwaysdoes, but I think when you love someone, these things are amplified. It’s just an educated guess since he’s the only man I’ve ever truly loved. But it sounds like it could be true.
“This is a great surprise,” he says.
His warm hand grasps mine, and he tugs me toward the back, leading me toward the cramped hall that will dump us at the staircase that leads to his apartment.
My heart rate continues to even out as we walk the path I’ve followed many times. I’m safe here. Like all the things that stress me out on a daily basis don’t exist here.
If home were made of crumbs instead of walls, every trail would still lead here.
Maybe I’m living through rose-colored glasses, but that only happens when I’m with Holden. Anywhere else? I’m a completely different person.
When he swings the door open to his space and I’m surrounded by familiar pieces and all things Holden, the rest of my anxiety dissipates.
The gold light spilling through his window warms everything—it’s the color of what we’ve become: steady, not burning. Part of me wants to dig Gumdrop, the gingerbread plush he won me, out of my bag and set it on his bookshelf—his frosting grin a quiet witness.
“Are you okay? You look stressed.” Holden murmurs, gathering me in his arms.
I bury my face in his chest, the pressure of his embrace like a weighted blanket. Only it smells like fresh bread and sweet dough.
“Not anymore. I’ve needed this since I got out of my Magic Carriage Ryde.”
He chuckles. It’s an interesting name for the local ride-share company, I’ll give them that.
He presses his lips to the top of my head, and while I’m normally fine with his tenderness, that’s not what I want right now. I pull away from him just enough to tip my head back. He’s wearing glasses today, which means he probably forgot to order his contacts again. It’s not unusual for him to get so caught up in his work that he forgets appointments.
I’d fuss at him forgetting to pick them up, but I like this sexy, nerdy look he’s got going for him. I always have.
I usually make him a calendar for his fridge so that all his appointments are in one place. Since I wasn’t here last year, I tucked one into his suitcase. My heart squeezes when I glance over and see it fastened to his fridge with various mismatched magnets.
He’s also got a digital calendar I put together for him that syncs with every device the man uses, complete with reminders. But I think it’s too “out of sight, out of mind” for him.
“It’s good to see you.” His mouth hitches up in a grin, and I raise up on my toes to kiss him.
His lips are soft and warm, moving against mine in a tender dance of reacquaintance. It’s less hurried than it usually is when we’ve gone a whole year between seeing each other. This time it’s only been a few months.
We agreed last December to change things up: a weekend in July, Sunday morning brunch dates. But the problem with seeing him more is that it’s never enough. Once a year certainly wasn’t. I’m hungry for all the domestic nuances we fall into when we get together, but every day.
It’s that holiday-love ache that never grew up, just waited for us to catch up.
The admissions we made to each other last Christmas unlocked a piece of me I didn’t know existed, and ever since, I’ve compiled a mental wish list of all the things I want with this man.
His large hands tighten against my back, gripping me like he’s afraid I’ll slip away, and I wish I could reassure him I won’t.
I don’t want to.
