Page 33 of Wrapped Up In You
A shadow passed over his face, taking the joy with it.
“When did you last see him?” I placed my hand over his, trying to offer comfort.
“About seven years ago. He’d been sick with colon cancer, and I got permission from his doctors to bring him up here for a long weekend. Convinced them that some fresh air would be good for him. We spent the weekend just as we had when I was a kid, playing games and reading by the fire. He told me stories, and his eyes twinkled like they had when I was young. He passed about a month after we got back.”
I stroked the back of his hand with my thumb, allowing him some space to lose himself in his memories. “The cabin is actually mine. Did you know that?” I shook my head in the negative. “He said my father was too practical and would probably sell it off rather than try to maintain it from the city, so he left it to me. It’s been my retreat ever since.”
Guilt washed over me. I’d come up here completely unannounced, running from a fight with my father, not giving any thought to the fact that Jonathan might be up here or that I’d intrude on his need for time alone. The only other time I’d been up here had been with Mom, and it hadn’t ever dawned on me that the cabin wasn’t Jon’s.
“I’m sorry I crashed your weekend. I didn’t realize the place was yours and didn’t think before I came up here. I didn’t even tell Mom I was coming. I was just looking for an escape and remembered coming here years ago and figured with them out of town, it would be empty. I shouldn’t have assumed.” I was babbling, frustrated that, once again, my impulsive behaviors had caused someone else inconvenience.
“Shhh. It’s okay.” He flipped his hand over, entangling his fingers with mine and squeezing. “I’m glad you’re here. I came up here to wallow in self-pity over the fact that my marriage was over and I didn’t have anyone to spend Christmas with. I probably would have finished that bottle of bourbon by myself and ended up eating cereal for dinner rather than cooking any of the meals I purchased groceries for. Instead, I’ve been gifted numerous orgasms, eaten several fantastic meals I didn’t have to prepare myself, and have laughed more often than I can remember at any other point in my life.”
He released my hand, leaning forward over the table and cupping my chin. “I don’t regret a moment of the time I’ve spent here with you. In fact, I can’t remember a better Christmas.”
I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips to his. Aware that we were in public, I kept it chaste but still did my best to infuse as much feeling into it as I could. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For saying that. For making me feel like I matter. Like you want me here.”
“You do matter.” He kissed me. “And I do want you here.” He kissed me again, then stood, sweeping the crumbs from both his muffin and my Danish into his hand, then walked over to dump them in the trash, along with the wrappers. I followed with our coffees, handing him his, then zipping up my coat before we headed outside.
“Where to next?”
He held out his free hand, and I took it, savoring the feel of it wrapped in mine as we stepped out into the chilly December air.
“I have no idea.”
19
JONATHAN
Ireveled in the simple pleasure of strolling hand in hand down the sidewalk with the guy I was pretty sure I was falling for. I hadn’t ever been much of a hand holder. At least, I hadn’t typically been the one to initiate it, but right now, at this moment, I was enjoying the feeling of our fingers laced together, palm against palm.
I nearly ran into Hayden as he came to an abrupt halt in front of a storefront, but before I could process what type of store it was, he was tugging me inside. I giggled—fuckinggiggled—when he stopped just inside the door and I nearly ran into him again. “What has gotten into you?” I asked, my voice filled with laughter. It was ridiculous how much I laughed when I was with him.
Rather than answer, he stepped aside, revealing what my nose had already been trying to tell me. We were in a bookshop. A picture-perfect, small-town bookshop, complete with a cat sleeping on a chair in the corner.
The smell of books mingled with coffee and vanilla, the scents almost cloying yet somehow comforting in the small space. I was absolutely delighted.
It had been years since I’d been in a bookstore, primarily preferring the convenience and efficiency of my Kindle. But there was something so comforting about the smell and feel of physical books that I wondered why I’d stayed away for so long.
I chose an aisle at random, brushing my fingers along the spines as I walked. I favored fantasy and sci-fi but was delighted when I stumbled across an entire section of shelves devoted to queer romance. I plucked one at random, walked over to one of the cozy mismatched chairs in the corner, and sat down.
Hayden followed, sitting in the chair next to me. I couldn’t make out the title of the book he’d chosen, but he grinned and cracked it open.
I lost track of time, noticing in an absentminded sort of way that Hayden got up and sat down a couple of times while I was deeply engrossed in a book about a college student caring for his dying mother, who was trying to convince a broody barista to go out with him.
“Do you think maybe you should just buy the book?”
I looked up, nearly having forgotten where I was for a moment. I smiled sheepishly at being caught so engrossed. “It’s really good.” I nodded toward the pile of books in his lap. “What did you find?”
“I’m a total mood reader and never know what will hold my attention, so I often have several books going at once. I grabbed several romances, a couple of fantasies, and one book about Eric Clapton.”
It was so perfectly Hayden, and rather than lecture him about only sticking with one book at a time, as Judgey Jonathan might have done in the past, I simply stood, kissed him on the temple, and said, “Let’s go pay.”
* * *
