Waiting for December, page 16
“That’s a relief,” I say.
“Yeah,” Jesse says, although he doesn’t look relieved. He still looks stressed.
I reach out and rest a hand on his shoulder. “What’s up? Is this about Brendan?” I’m sure he wasn’t expecting to have to talk about him today, and I still feel terrible that Sky brought up the topic. Though, in Sky’s defense, he honestly didn’t know not to broach the subject.
Jesse shakes his head.
“Is this about Sky?” I probably should clarify that he won’t interfere with my duties while he’s here, which isn’t for very long. I’m still planning on dealing with my responsibilities, including checking in the two guests arriving at three-thirty and hosting happy hour.
But Jesse shakes his head, so I don’t bother mentioning any of that.
“What’s it about, then?”
He doesn’t say anything. Jesse has always told me what’s on his mind when I’ve pressed him, ever since I first got here. So why not now? The only subject I can imagine he might not want to discuss with me is me.
“Did I do something?” I try. Is this because I called him my coworker earlier?
I open my mouth to ask or apologize, but he shakes his head.
“No,” he says adamantly. “No. I’m not mad at you, Harper. It’s just . . .” He looks as if he wants to say something but isn’t sure if he should, which must mean he hasn’t fully thought it through yet. Jesse is too purposeful to share a thought he hasn’t completely processed. “I should get back to work,” he concludes.
He walks away before I can press him further.
twenty-two
SKY AND I are at dinner. A really romantic dinner at a restaurant in town called Plate. We’re seated at the best table in the joint because Sky called last night before he flew out here and made us a reservation, requesting the table right in front of the fire.
We came straight from happy hour at the inn. Sky said I had to try it, and he was so excited he could take me himself. Ever since we arrived, we’ve been talking. The conversation is fluid and flirty, and I think it’s going to lead to sex—really good sex.
But as we sip red wine and wait for our food to arrive, the thought keeps crossing my mind that this is the time of night when Jesse and I usually sit at our fire.
I keep trying to shake it, but I can’t. Part of me wonders if it would be easier if we were sitting at a different table—one that wasn’t next to the fire. I ponder claiming I’m too warm, but a scan of the room tells me the rest of the tables for two are taken. So I’m forced to keep staring into the flames. And each time I do, I think of Jesse.
I wonder if this is why Jesse was upset earlier. Did he know I would miss our ritual tonight? Was he upset about it and didn’t know how to tell me?
I’m upset too, I realize, as our food arrives and we start eating. I miss our ritual. I’m surprised how much I miss it.
And I feel terrible about missing it because, first of all, Sky is right here in front of me. He’s such a great date. And I’ve missed him and dreamed about seeing him again and spending time together since the day he left. (Sure, in all these imagined scenarios, I pictured us together after Christmas Eve, but still.) Second of all, what if this is the night Jesse’s and my streak ends? I wonder if he’s sitting by the fire alone or if he bagged it. And if he is sitting by the fire but I’m not with him, does that count, or do we both have to be there for it to count? We never discussed this. I never imagined there’d be a night where either of us would have other plans. We’re always at the inn.
Half of my heart feels as if it’s there now, and at one point Sky picks up on this. “Is something wrong?” he asks.
I’m not sure what to say. I need to tell him something. I believe in honesty in relationships. I especially believe in honesty before a relationship officially starts.
I set down my fork and reach across the table for his hand. “The meal is lovely. And you being here makes me so happy. It’s just that Jesse and I have this ritual where we sit outside at the fire every night at this time. It’s something he used to do with Brendan, so it means a lot to him. And I feel bad missing it.”
Sky squeezes my hand, then releases it and reaches for his glass of wine to take another sip. “I’m sure he will understand,” he says. “It’s just one night.”
Just one night. Put that way, it doesn’t sound like a big deal.
But it feels like a big deal.
“True,” I say. “It’s just that we’re trying to see how far into the season we can last sitting out there in the cold, so missing one night sort of blows the whole thing.”
Sky nods and begins to trace his thumb around the stem of his wine glass. “Do you want to head back?”
I can see in his eyes that he doesn’t want to head back. Honestly, why would he? We’re in the middle of a date on the only night we have to spend together until Christmas Eve. Still, it was sweet of him to offer. Really sweet. It shows he was willing to sacrifice our date, and that should make me feel more at peace with my decision to be here with him.
So . . . why isn’t that happening?
“I’ve probably missed it already, anyway,” I say, because it’s the truth. I should have thought about this before we left. But Sky had the reservation, and I was wrapped up in him, so I wasn’t thinking about Jesse and the fire. And I didn’t anticipate how much Jesse and the fire would consume my thoughts, or that I’d feel as if I’d somehow made a mess of things.
“I’m sure he will understand,” Sky says again as he goes back to eating.
I hope he’s right.
—
Sky and I finish eating soon after that. I started to pick up my pace when it occurred to me that if we wrapped this up sooner rather than later, I could make it back in time for the fire (or have Jesse make another fire), sit with him for fifteen minutes, then have sex with Sky in my cottage before Sky has to head to the airport. Sky matched my pace and didn’t seem to mind. But now that we’re in his rental car, I’m realizing he probably thought we were in an unspoken agreement to get out of there fast so we’d have enough time to have sex at least once before he left, maybe even twice.
He started kissing me as soon as we got in the car, and he’s still kissing me in a way that makes me think he’s down to do it for the first time right at the end of this dead-end street.
It’s not the worst idea in the world. All the lights are off in the houses surrounding us. Plus, we’re doing a good job at the moment of fogging up all of the windows. And Sky rented an SUV, so there’s plenty of room if we move from the front to the back. Yet another bonus is that we wouldn’t have to worry about Jesse overhearing us.
But I’m still worrying about Jesse. That’s the annoying thing.
Sky cups my face with both hands and drives his tongue into my mouth as if he’s trying to push everything out of my mind. And it works. It is quite the kiss, after all.
For a moment, I can’t think of anything but the feel of his shoulders under my hands, his tongue against mine, and how we’re going to come together in a window-fogging tangle in that back seat. I’m flushed and panting, and I want . . .
To be by the fire.
Dammit. Dammit!
I’m still worried about Jesse. I can’t stop seeing him all alone at the fire. And I can’t stop feeling guilty about this. And sad. Like I’m not where I’m supposed to be.
I am not supposed to be here right now.
And that kicks off the anger I thought I’d let go of already: Sky isn’t supposed to be here yet.
I want to shake myself. Why can’t I just love that he’s here?
I hate all these emotions. I don’t want to feel any of these things when I’m kissing Sky. I definitely don’t want to be feeling them when I’m about to have sex with Sky for the first time. I’ve fantasized about this moment so many times, and this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.
I break off the kiss just as Sky starts to shift us into the back seat.
“I’m sorry,” Sky says, panting. “Is the back of a car tacky? It is tacky. I promised you our first time would be amazing, and I just . . . I got carried away.”
He’s giving me an out here, and I could take it. But I’d feel too guilty blaming this on him. Plus, if I tell him that’s it, he’s going to want to rush right back to the inn and have sex there. And if we go back to the inn . . . I know myself. The first thing I’m going to have to do is check on Jesse.
I know myself.
Did I just say that? I almost laugh. Of all the times to feel as if I’m figuring out who I am, this is not an ideal moment.
“It’s not you. It’s me.” As soon as I say this, Sky’s eyes grow wide. Oops. I’ve probably freaked him out. Those are often the words a person uses to end things. I’m not trying to end things. I just want them to start right.
“I wasn’t expecting you to be here tonight,” I try to explain. “And because it was so unexpected, it’s been hard for me to recalibrate—to get work off my mind or all that I’m missing back at the inn. I want to be fully in this moment with you, but I’m not.”
Sky always seems to have the right words up his sleeve. But he’s quiet now for a solid minute.
“I thought flying out here was the right thing,” he says finally.
“It wasn’t the wrong thing,” I say, trying to make him feel better. “It just wasn’t . . . good timing.”
He hangs his head, and I rest my hand on his back, wondering if I made the wrong decision. We could be having sex right now. We could be moving forward. Instead, I’m choosing to put us on pause—again. And this time pausing us doesn’t feel as exciting as it did last time because Sky’s feelings are hurt.
“Do you want me to take you back?” Sky’s hands are on his steering wheel as if he already knows the answer to his question.
When I nod, he starts the engine.
I don’t like the direction this night is taking. But I don’t know what I can do to correct its course.
—
Sky doesn’t get out of the car when we get back to the inn, so I don’t move either. I’m not sure if it’s because he doesn’t want to come in or he’s waiting for an invite.
I contemplate extending one, but there doesn’t seem to be a point. Neither of us spoke once on the car ride here, so I can’t imagine the two of us talking in my cottage for the final hour before he has to leave for the airport. We’re both in a pretty negative mood.
Thanks to me. But also thanks to Sky.
I am more than willing to admit I’m at fault here. I feel terrible for my role in the turn this night took. But I’m also frustrated with Sky for flying out here in the first place. We came up with the arrangement we did for a reason, so we’d both be fully available and ready to dive in. He might be ready, but he knows I still have things to unwind.
I share some of these thoughts out loud with him now, even though I’m mostly just repeating what I told him earlier. But the silence between us was becoming too weird. I have an urge to fill it, and all these thoughts feel worth reiterating.
Once I finish, Sky looks up from his hands.
“So where does this leave us?” he asks.
I stare into Sky’s eyes and am reminded of everything I like about this man: the way I feel when I’m around him, how playful he makes me, how fun everything is when we’re together, his willingness to put his heart on the line for me, despite his past.
Since the moment I met him, he’s brought so much good into my life. He’s also brought the promise of something good to come. I have loved looking forward to his letters every week, and a big part of me still loves the idea of reuniting with him on Christmas Eve. I know we have real potential to be good together. So even though tonight didn’t go as either of us hoped, I don’t want to say anything that I will regret upon waking up tomorrow.
“I want to stick to the pact. I’m still looking forward to reuniting on Christmas Eve,” I respond.
“Will you be looking forward to it?” Sky asks.
“Yeah. Will you be?”
Sky doesn’t immediately answer me, which hurts. It hurts so much that it makes me wish I could go back in time and make different choices tonight. If I had handled all of this better, we could have been having an entirely different conversation right now, one about how much more we’re anticipating Christmas Eve after this second incredible day together.
I force myself to remember that Sky could have made different choices too. He could have never forgotten to write me in the first place. He could have chosen to apologize in several letters instead of flying out here. I can’t take all the blame for the situation we’re in.
But I have to release any and all blame and just accept what is. This night didn’t play out as we both would have liked. But it doesn’t have to mean it’s over.
Does it?
Sky still hasn’t answered me.
“Will you be looking forward to it?” I repeat.
“Yeah,” he says finally. His voice doesn’t sound convincing, though.
“You’re scaring me,” I say.
“You’re scaring me,” he shoots back, then braces his hands on the steering wheel and stares straight ahead. “I think I might go see Andrea.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
Clearly he’s also telling me it’s time for me to get out of the car. And to say goodbye. But is this goodbye for now or goodbye altogether? I don’t know, and not knowing sends a fizzle of panic through me.
We had a pact, didn’t we? I want to hold fast to the plan. I want to keep my promise. But I’m not sure Sky does.
“Will you still write to me next Wednesday?” I ask.
He nods.
“I’ll write back. I promise,” I say.
I know Sky needs reassurance right now, but so do I, and I don’t feel I’m getting any. I’m relieved when this dawns on Sky and he finally shifts toward me and gives me a hug. I want him to kiss me too, and he does that next, but I regret I wished for it because it’s not a reassuring kiss. It’s a desperate kiss. A sad kiss. A confused kiss.
Confused.
That’s how I feel when I get out of the car and wave goodbye.
Very, very confused. And I wonder where we stand and if I still have someone waiting for December with me.
—
As soon as Sky pulls away, I want to sulk and possibly even cry. But I can’t do either of those things because I haven’t forgotten why I pushed Sky away in the first place.
Jesse.
I shake my head as if to get rid of the sadness, and square my shoulders. It’s very possible I’m heading toward another person who is upset with me, but it doesn’t matter. I need him to know I’m sorry. I need to repair the damage.
It’s just past seven o’clock now, which means Jesse is probably in his room. I say probably because he normally is, but Sky’s appearance threw both of us off our routine, so there’s a chance he’s elsewhere instead.
When I knock, he doesn’t answer right away. I wait a minute and try again. When he still doesn’t answer, I turn to leave, but then I hear the doorknob twist, and a second later Jesse pokes his head out. I wish he would come all the way out or invite me in. His hesitant greeting makes me think he’s definitely mad at me.
“Can we talk?” I say.
“It’s not really a good time.”
Yep, clearly mad at me. I don’t blame him. I should have mentioned Sky’s and my dinner plans ahead of time so he and I could have nailed down a plan B for our fire routine.
“Look, Jesse—” I start to explain. “I won’t be able to sleep if we don’t talk about this tonight. I’m assuming I missed the fire. And I feel so bad about that. Really bad. At dinner, all I could think about was what a terrible friend I was, and I was wondering if you’ve already sat by the fire, and if so, how you’d feel about making another so I could join you because it’s still before midnight so technically we can keep our streak—.”
The sound of Jesse’s bathroom door opening distracts me. When I hear footsteps on the hardwood floor, I fall silent.
“Do you have company?” If I sound surprised, it’s because I am.
He nods.
Talk about changing up our routine. Jesse hasn’t had anyone over since we started working together. He’s spent every night with me. Then again, I wasn’t here tonight, so I guess it makes sense that he might have invited someone over to hang out.
“Who?” As soon as I say it, I recognize I’m being nosy. But I’m curious why he’s being so secretive and not just introducing me. Also, it would have been really nice if he could have told me he had plans tonight so I wouldn’t have felt so bad about the plans I had. There’s no cell service here, so he couldn’t have made last-minute plans on a whim. He must have known before Sky and I drove to dinner that this person would be coming over.
Rather than answer my question, he turns and looks over his shoulder. “Give me a minute, will you?” he says to the person behind him.
“Okay,” I hear a voice reply. A female voice.
He steps outside and closes the door behind him.
What the hell?
“Who’s in there?” I say. At this point, I don’t care about being nosy. His behavior is weird.
Jesse leans against the porch railing and folds his arms over his chest. “Madison,” he replies.
“Madison, Madison?” I don’t know his ex’s last name, so this is the only way I can think to clarify her.
When he nods, I swallow. I don’t know why finding out she’s here made my throat dry suddenly.
“Did you know she was coming?” I ask.
“No.”
“When did she get here?”
“About an hour ago.”
“What’s she doing here?”
This question takes him a little while longer to answer. He drops his gaze down to the deck, studying it as if there’s something much more interesting down there than floorboards.
