Waiting for December, page 21
In fact, when Jesse hands me the angel to put on top of the tree and his fingers gently brush against mine, I understand that what I feel for Jesse is unequivocally stronger.
thirty
I WANT TO blurt out my realization the second I have it.
“Jesse—” I begin. But I pause as the lights on the tree and overhead start to flicker. The next second, the power goes out completely.
Jesse curses beneath his breath. It’s the first time I’ve heard him swear. “Luckily, we don’t have guests,” he says, as if trying to see the bright side. He walks to the window, searching for a downed power line.
“See anything?” I ask.
It’s only three-thirty, so it’s not completely pitch black out there yet—or in here—but this time of year the sun sets around four, so it will be soon.
“Not out this window.” He walks to another window and tells me he doesn’t see anything there either. “I’m going to have to call this in on the landline,” he says. “And see if I can find out when the power’s coming back.”
I nod and ask if I can help by finding candles or lanterns somewhere.
“There are pillar candles underneath those.” He motions to the benches along the windowsill as he makes his way to the front desk.
I lift the seats up after removing the cushions and find an assortment of candles with glass coaster plates for them to sit on. After pulling out a couple boxes, I set a few candles in the windowsills, then cluster a couple on each of the tables. There’s a lighter on the mantle, so I retrieve that and light them all.
By the time Jesse returns, it’s darker outside, but it’s glowing in here. And it looks . . . romantic. My confession dances on my tongue, but Jesse still looks as if he’s in crisis mode.
He runs a hand through his hair. “The estimated wait time for power to be restored in our zip code is five hours and thirty minutes.”
“So it will be on by the time guests arrive tomorrow morning,” I point out.
He nods and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “That just leaves tonight.”
“Right.”
“I’m going to start a fire, for heat,” he says. “You . . .” He seems to register the room as he looks from all the candles to me. He visibly swallows. “You definitely took care of the light.”
When our eyes lock, my heart thuds at the prospect of spitting the words out. But I hesitate. And in that gap, Jesse asks, “Want to start hanging the garlands while I get going on the fire?”
I want it to be special when I tell Jesse how I feel. I want it to be the right moment. This isn’t it. We still have so much more decorating to do.
“Sure,” I say, and we get to work.
It’s not the right moment when we finish decorating a couple hours later either. Next, we prepare dinner and while we wait for the food to cook on the gas stove, we play a game of cards. Jesse keeps talking about what we’ll make the guests tomorrow if—for some reason—the power isn’t back on when they arrive.
Not the right moment.
I don’t even consider it while we’re outside by the fire. It’s way too cold tonight. And the wind! The wind is blowing so forcefully that once we open the door to come back inside, it blows wide open. We both reach out to push it closed, and Jesse’s hand covers mine.
It clicks closed, cutting off the howling wind, but Jesse doesn’t move.
I don’t ask him to.
We stay like this for several breaths, and then I pull my hand out from under his and turn around to face him. My back is against the door and he’s half leaning over me. Heat pools low in my stomach.
It’s dark in the entryway, but I can see the flicker of candlelight dancing across his face.
He must see more on my face than candlelight because the next second he asks, “What’s going through your head, Harper?”
His voice is low, a rumble, and I shiver.
This is the right moment. No question.
My pulse quickens.
“I’m going to have to mutter the code word here, Harper, unless that look you’re giving me means you are okay with me doing what I’m thinking about doing.” His eyes are on my lips, so I know what he’s thinking about doing.
I want him to do it.
I’ve never wanted to be kissed by someone so badly in my entire life.
I swallow so my words don’t stick in my throat. “It’s you, Jesse,” I breathe. “I want you.”
He blows out a quiet breath of relief and shifts closer. So close I can feel his scruff on my face and his heartbeat against mine. If either of us moves an inch, our lips will touch. I can’t stop thinking about what it will be like when they do touch. Although I should—
Oh no.
No, no, no.
Don’t think it, Harper!
But it’s too late.
“I need to . . .” I begin.
This is going to kill me.
“What?” Jesse says thickly, just as his lips are about to meet mine.
“. . . tell him first.” I finish the sentence. I don’t know how I manage to, but I do.
I also don’t know why the thought popped into my head in the first place. All I know is that it did.
“Sky?” Jesse clarifies.
His name spoken aloud destroys the moment. But maybe that’s why I stopped the moment from going further. I didn’t want the kiss to be destroyed. Things with Sky need to be completely over before I indulge my feelings for Jesse, or I could end up feeling guilty. I don’t want guilt to be any part of my first kiss with Jesse.
“Yes.”
Jesse closes his eyes a moment, then backs away from me and leans against the windowsill, rubbing his forehead.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and I am, I really am.
Jesse looks at me then. “No, I’m not mad at you. You make a good point. I don’t want anything else in your head when I kiss you, Harper. Anything.”
The last word has such force and such promise behind it that I nearly take a step toward him. I lean back harder against the door to ground my feet.
Jesse huffs out a breath and continues. “I backed up because now that your feelings are out there . . . not kissing you is going to be a serious challenge for me the rest of the evening.”
His face is filled with desire, and after a brief glance at his jeans, I can see the desire there too, and the heat burning in my stomach travels lower. I close my eyes thinking about all the things he’d be doing to me if I hadn’t just stopped him.
I am on fire.
“I see your point,” I say, but the words come out on a shaky breath. “We should call it a night.”
When I blink open my eyes, I see that Jesse has already left the entryway and is heading into the parlor, blowing out candles along the way. I stay put, knowing that if I follow, we’ll blow out the candles faster but then will be alone in a room together. In the dark. With this white-hot desire.
For both of our sakes, I stay put until he’s put out all the candles and extinguished the fire, and once I hear him treading my way, I open the door and step outside, walking a few paces ahead of him back to our cottages.
Neither of us even bothers saying goodnight. I hurry up my porch steps and hear him hurry up his, and we both shut our doors at the same time. I lean against mine just as the power pops back on. I know it does by my digital alarm clock’s blinking red numbers across the expanse of dark. I can’t help but think it knows I’m counting down the moments until Jesse and I can pick up where we left off.
thirty-one
THIS SHOULD BE a phone call.
It’s Saturday, and I’m dragging my feet as I walk into town. Now that my heart is leading me in another direction, there’s no point in delaying the inevitable till Wednesday. I need to tell Sky about my decision now, no matter how much I’m dreading writing the email.
I would call if I had his number. I suppose I could email him and ask for it. But I’ve never asked for his number these past couple of months. Not even after his surprise visit, when a talk would have probably made sense. What if asking for it causes him to feel the same dread I now am? I have to deliver bad news, but I can at least save him from anticipating it.
Although I’d want a warning about bad news.
But if giving him a warning possibly also gives him a full day of dreadful anticipation, it’s not worth it. I know nothing of Sky’s schedule. If I ask for his number, I don’t know when he’d get back to me. If I don’t receive his email with his phone number until tomorrow, that’s an entire day. And that’s if he’s not flying when I finally call. If not, it’s even longer.
No, that could be worse. And I want to be as sensitive in my treatment of Sky’s feelings as I possibly can.
In some ways, ending things doesn’t seem like that big of a deal. I mean, it’s not as if Sky and I are together. We’ve technically only spent two or three days together, and we’ve gotten to know each other mostly through letters. But in other ways, this feels immensely difficult because the connection Sky and I have is stronger than any other connection I’ve had in my life—until Jesse.
I can’t say I’m mad when I walk into the coffee shop and find that the line is longer than usual. I should have expected traffic given the influx of tourists. The inn is booked solid from now through Christmas, and after briefly taking in the downtown area on my walk here, I can see why. Jesse and I weren’t the only ones putting up the holiday decorations yesterday. Stowe transformed overnight into a winter wonderland.
The light poles have all been wrapped with white lights, garlands, and red ribbons. Oversized ornaments and bows are hanging in most store windows, including Milk & Maple’s. And there’s a tall, bushy Christmas tree covered in colorful lights at the end of Main Street near the church steeple. Most of the storefronts have Christmas trees up as well, either out front or in their windows.
I give my attention to the one inside Milk & Maple, which is draped in white lights and coffee cup ornaments. Then I sweep my eyes over the rest of the room, checking out the other decorative touches. I spy twinkle lights along the counter, green stockings hanging from the fireplace mantle, and—
Sky.
I swing back around toward the register in a blind panic. Was that really Sky? Or is my mind playing tricks on me?
I take a deep breath before shooting another glance over my shoulder. I peer at the same spot, but this time he’s not there.
My nerves settle a little, but I scan the room again, feeling crazy. I could have sworn I saw him.
I spy him then, hiding behind the Christmas tree.
When my eyes meet his, he shrugs, admitting he’s been caught, and then he makes a silly face that reminds me of those photos he sent me all those weeks ago of him in his apartment, and before I know it, I’m laughing. I can’t believe I’m laughing, but I am. I forgot how easily he makes me laugh.
He waves me over to him, and I bite my bottom lip as I step out of line. When he makes another silly face, my lip breaks free, and I grin again as I walk toward him.
He’s out from his hiding place by the time I reach him, and before I can ask what he’s doing here, he takes me into his arms and holds me as if he’s trying to make up for all our time apart. He presses his lips into my hair a beat later, and a shiver works its way down my spine and all the way to my toes. I don’t have time to process my reaction—to process anything—before he starts apologizing.
“I’m only in town because my mom had a health scare,” he explains. “I didn’t let you know because I didn’t want to screw up again. I wanted to keep my promise and give you the space and time you told me you needed.”
He wanted to keep his promise.
My stomach drops.
“I didn’t think you’d be here today,” he goes on. “That’s the only reason I came in. I thought you only came to Milk & Maple on Wednesdays. What are you doing here?”
My stomach sinks even more because oh my god—if he knew I was here to break our pact after he’s done everything he can to honor it . . .
I swallow and blink as the room begins to spin.
“Harper? Are you okay? You’ve gone pale,” Sky says. At least I think he says that. There’s a chance I misheard him because I do feel funny.
I reach a hand out to Sky. I feel so unsteady. He reaches down and swoops me up into his arms in response. I’m so caught off guard by the sudden gesture that my eyes dart to his, and when his eyes meet mine, I have a flashback to when he picked me up just like this the first night we met, right before bed.
The memory warms me all over and I blink, trying to snap out of it, because recalling heated and happy memories of our time together is not what I need right now.
What I need is to pull it together and remember why I came here in the first place.
To end things.
I thought I should call him, didn’t I? Fate did me one better.
I look away from him after he sets me down on a seat at a table before claiming the seat across from me.
“Are you okay?” he asks, reaching over and resting his palm on top of my hand. My skin tingles beneath his, and I draw in a deep breath, knowing I should pull my hand back, but I’m unable to move.
How do I answer that? I don’t feel okay.
“Is your mom okay?” I ask, dodging the question. I can’t imagine Sky would have come to town if his mom’s health scare wasn’t serious, given how much he actively avoids his family.
“She had a stroke,” he says.
“Sky—” I flip my hand over so I’m holding his and squeeze.
“She’s fine now,” he continues. “At least that’s what the doctors are saying. Although maybe they’re just telling us that to get her out of the hospital. Luckily her speech wasn’t affected so she’s managed to keep bossing everyone around as if she owns the place.” Sky chuckles and so do I.
“I’m glad she’s okay.”
“I am too.” There’s a beat, and then Sky says, “And another bright side? I get to see you, even if it wasn’t my intention. And just before I head back to Atlanta tonight too.”
He squeezes my hand happily, and I swallow the sudden lump in my throat.
“You leave tonight?”
He nods. “Mom will be back home by then, and I need to return to work.”
I have to tell him. I have to tell him the pact is off now. That’s what I came here to do, and I’ve already made up my mind.
Right?
I nearly growl at the question. Right.
I gently let go of his hand and place mine in my lap. Then I open my mouth, but before I can say a word, I hear my name, followed by Sky’s.
When I turn around, I spy Sky’s sister, Andrea, standing behind me. “I should have told you my sister was meeting me here,” Sky says, getting to his feet to grab her a chair.
I rise to give her a hug, not sure if I’m grateful she showed up or if this just made things worse.
Once we embrace, Andrea and I sit. Sky, who couldn’t find an empty chair, stays standing.
“Please tell me you two just bumped into each other and my brother didn’t break down and invite you here.”
“I didn’t!” Sky says, holding up his palms. “I swear. This is just a coincidence.”
“Good,” she says.
“I told Andrea the truth about everything—including our pact—last time I was in town,” Sky clarifies. He never mentioned how his conversation with Andrea went when he left the inn after our argument, and I never asked. We both just put that night behind us and have been pretending it didn’t happen—probably not the best approach, but one we’ve stuck with. “I made her promise to keep me honest on not reaching out to you this go-round.”
“He’s been dying to contact you,” she tells me. “But I’ve been proud of him for keeping his word and abstaining.”
For keeping his word.
My stomach knots.
“Let me order us all coffee,” Sky says. “Harper, you want a latte? Andrea, a cappuccino?”
We each nod, and Sky plants a brief kiss on my forehead before heading to the register. There’s no line now.
I try to brush off the tingles from that brief contact with his lips as Andrea starts talking.
“I want to vouch for my brother and tell you that any mistake he’s made so far is just an honest mistake. He really likes you. I could tell when you two were at my parents, and I could see it in his eyes when he stopped by my house during his most recent trip. I can see it now too. He hasn’t been like this since Julie.”
“Yeah, he told me about her and how much he regretted ending things,” I say, just to participate in the conversation.
“He didn’t end things with Julie.” She pauses. “Oh, you must mean Lucy.”
I’m not sure how Andrea interprets my blank look, but she continues after a second.
“Makes sense you mixed them up. I’m sure you two haven’t spent all your time emailing about his two big exes. But I was talking about Julie—you know, the one who left him the night he proposed.”
Huh?
Sky had an ex who left him the night he proposed to her?
“You didn’t know about Julie?” Andrea must have read my expression.
“No,” I admit.
She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Christ. I mentioned her at my parents’ house, and you nodded along like you recognized the name . . . but now I’m remembering that’s because you were acting.” She shakes her head a couple of times and stares across the table at me. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my place to share that part of Sky’s past.”
“What part of my past?” Of all moments for Sky to rejoin the table.
Andrea winces as she meets Sky’s eyes. “I mentioned Julie. I’m sorry. I thought she knew.”
Nervousness flashes across Sky’s face as his eyes briefly connect with mine before they drop to the tabletop.
“It’s a difficult topic for me,” he says. “I felt weird writing about it in a letter, and we’ve had so little time together in person.”
“That’s understandable.” I can imagine Sky wanting to wait for the right moment to share this story, and we haven’t had that yet. That isn’t Sky’s fault. I’m the one who asked for three months to find myself. Sky would be happily dating me right now and likely sharing all kinds of stories otherwise.
