Page 36 of Beautifully Messy
There was a time I couldn’t imagine stepping away from my career.
I’d never planned to take the full six months my firm offered. But the moment I looked into Anna’s eyes, everything shifted. I knew taking leave was career suicide, but for the first time, I didn’t care. My priorities realigned, and I know how lucky I am.
The trust fund my parents left, their one kindness, means I have economic freedom and a choice to go back or not, and decide what fits my new goals.
A tree glows in the corner, its twinkling lights casting gentle shadows. The scent of pine lingers, wrapping around me as Tinashe’s velvet-drenched Christmas album unfurls into the hush. Music sways through the room and I let it carry me, stirring what’s been humming beneath the surface since we arrived.
The creaky floorboard in the hallway groans.
I freeze.
“Sorry,” James whispers. “I couldn’t sleep. Heard the music… thought I’d find you here.”
“This is one of my favorite Christmas albums. I only play it at night; not exactly the cheery carols people expect from holiday music.”
“Is it okay if I join you?”
I hesitate, not because I don’t want him to, but because I do. More than I should.
“Yes. Please.”
He sinks into the chair across from me. Eyes closed, he lets the music move through him. Tinashe’s voice is low and aching, each note suspended in the air.
When his eyes open to find me already looking at him, the dimple I’ve tried not to think about for months deepens. James’s gaze sweeps down for the briefest second. My bare legs are tucked beneath me, my sleep shirt undone enough for Anna to nurse. He finds the freckles on my collarbone. He swallows hard, and every inch of me tightens.
The desire, the restraint, the thread pulled so tight between us that one tug would snap it.
Don’t you feel this?
I’ve tried to smother every thought, convinced myself time and distance had warped it all, turned it into something it never was. Told myself it was exhaustion. Loneliness. A fleeting moment spun into fantasy.
But the way he’s looking at me now?
I know the truth.
It was never nothing. Whatever sparked between us last year hasn’t faded.
Anna stirs against me, her tiny mouth still working in her sleep—and the duality of this moment, my child at my breast while my heart pounds for a man who isn’t her father, feels like the most honest metaphor for my life.
He opens his mouth, ready to say something—
Footsteps thump down the hall.
James straightens, sinking back into the chair instead of crossing a line he couldn't uncross.
I glance at the rubber band on my wrist. Wanting something doesn’t mean I can have it. I pull. Hard.
The snap makes me wince, but I welcome it. I need it.
“Hey.” His voice cuts through the pain. “What was that? The rubber band… why would you do that?”
I don’t meet his eyes. “It’s nothing. Just something I do to remind myself of my responsibilities.”
He moves without a word and kneels beside my chair. His thumb skims over the welt, back and forth. A shiver shoots up my arm from that single point of contact.
James clears his throat. “I’m gonna grab a drink.”
As soon as he’s gone, I lay a sleeping Anna in her pack-and-play and snatch my phone from the table, fingers moving frantically to change the music. By the time James walks back in, I want to pretend whatever passed between us was only in my head.
