Waiting for December, page 24
Out of respect for Sky, though, I wait. I watch from a distance as he connects with Andrea. I spy her giving him a hug, then draping her arm around his back and walking with him toward their car. The rest of his family follows shortly after. I say a silent prayer then that Sky finds what he’s looking for—and soon—because he deserves a happily ever after as much as I do. Once their cars pull out of the parking lot, I jolt into action, searching for the man who makes my heart happier than it’s ever been.
My first stop is the hot chocolate booth where I saw Jesse earlier, but he’s no longer there. I scan the other booths, and when I don’t see him at any of those, I walk inside the inn. Everywhere I look, large groups of people are chatting and drinking cocktails. I weave in and out of them, searching their faces but not seeing his. I spy Mark and Beth in a group by the tree in the parlor, but I duck behind the cocktail bar so they don’t see me. I’ll talk to them later. Right now, all I want to do is find Jesse.
I check for him in the kitchen next but don’t see him there either, so I head back outside and over to the line for horse-drawn carriage rides. Will is returning from leading a ride just as I approach. He stops the horses and looks at me.
“Have you seen Jesse?” I ask.
“Not in a while. He came on a ride with me about thirty minutes ago.”
I nod and thank him, heading toward the barn since I haven’t checked there yet. I peek in, but it’s pretty empty—just a couple of kids and their parents standing outside the chicken coop, petting the chickens’ heads.
Where is he?
My heart is thrashing as I exit the barn, frantically looking in every direction. Now that I’m certain of my decision, I want to shout it at the top of my lungs. I want Jesse to know it’s him I choose without a doubt in my mind, without an ounce of confusion. The truth of it beats through me like a drum.
It’s him. It’s him. It’s him.
“Looking for something?”
“Jesse,” I breathe, pivoting toward his voice. He’s walking toward me from the direction of our cottages. I’m so relieved I’m not even sure if I smile. I just know I’m moving, and then I’m meeting him in the middle.
His hair is windblown and he’s wearing my favorite jacket of his: it’s blue-and-green plaid, and because it’s so cozy, some nights he brings it to the fire for me and lets me bundle up in it. I’ve never told him that all those nights he let me borrow it, I mostly loved wearing it because it smells like him.
I can tell him that kind of thing now. Later. After I get what I need to say off of my chest.
Tears are welling in my eyes, and I don’t want Jesse to see me crying and think I’m about to deliver bad news, but I can’t control the few that break free. I open my mouth, to tell him they’re happy tears—that I’m not here to break his heart—but he speaks first.
“This is for you,” he says, handing me a gift I hadn’t even noticed he was holding.
“Jesse—” I start to say, but he stops me, pressing a finger to my lips.
“Just open it first, okay?”
I can’t. I can’t wait a minute longer to tell him how I feel. But that focused look is on Jesse’s face, the one that tells me he really cares that I open it.
“Please?” he says, cementing my impression.
“You didn’t have to get me something,” I say, taking it.
“I told you I would.”
He did tell me he would. When I first got here, he said he’d be sure to get me something good for Christmas. And I got him something special too, but it’s in my cottage.
I remove the ribbon and wrapping paper slowly. Underneath, there’s a green box, and inside the box is an ornament. I pull it out.
Not just any ornament.
A beautiful handmade one.
Santa is hanging from the string and he’s holding a scroll of paper. On top of the scroll, Jesse inscribed Harper’s Vermont Bucket List, and beneath it is a giant check mark along with the word complete.
“I don’t know what choice you’ve made tonight,” he says. There’s a flash of anguish in his eyes, but then it’s gone. “But in case that choice was to leave, I wanted to make sure you left with a reminder of what you came for.”
Selfless Jesse.
My hearts swells against the walls of my chest, and tears are falling down my cheeks in earnest now. Jesse reaches out to wipe them away, his fingers leaving a tingling trail on my skin.
“I love you, Jesse,” I say, unable to contain the words anymore. “I’m so in love with you, I don’t know how I was ever unsure of it.”
I see a smile sweep across Jesse’s face as if I’ve just given him the greatest gift in the world, and my heart expands, thrumming fast behind my rib cage.
“I might have come here for my bucket list, but I found so much more: I found you. I’m so grateful to you for being patient with me as I listened to my heart. I love you, Jesse. I love you so much.”
He pulls me into his chest then, and I feel him exhale what seem like a thousand pent-up breaths all at once, and then a laugh, as if his joy can’t be contained, and my stomach somersaults at the sound.
“I love you too, Harper,” he tells me. He kisses the top of my head and holds me even closer. “More than you can know.”
I already knew I made the right choice. But as soon as these words leave his mouth, I’m convinced of it ten times over.
This is where I belong. This is where I’m meant to be.
Here. Here with Jesse.
When he finally releases me, I gently place my gift down on the snow beside us and reach for his hands. I want to tell him everything. But he lifts a hand to my cheek instead, sliding it along until it cups my jaw, the tips of his fingers anchored in my hair.
“I’ve been waiting so long for this,” he says, his eyes on my lips.
“How long, exactly?” I want to know the precise moment Jesse realized he had feelings for me. I want to hear everything he wasn’t able to tell me while he was waiting for me to come to terms with what I think I’ve known deep down inside me all along.
“That’s a story for another day,” he says.
“Jesse, tell—”
He steps closer, his eyes heating with an intensity I’ve only seen twice before: the night the power went out and the day he almost kissed me in my cabin. And suddenly, I can’t speak. I can barely breathe.
I feel the shift within me, the flash of desire so intense that I lean toward him without thinking. I feel his stubble on my temple, and memories, one on top of the other, flash through me: every near kiss, every denied touch, every too-long look, every single casual brush. All of them leading to this moment.
The world narrows to Jesse and me, to here and now.
As if he can hear my thoughts, he says, “Right now, Harper, I just need you.”
Then his hands are on my hips, my hands are on his chest, his lips find mine, and I’m . . . I’m on fire. Everything within me is ignited. I’m consumed with the power of it, of the want, of the need, of the love, and when Jesse tilts his head and deepens the kiss, I moan, and it vibrates from me through to Jesse, and I feel the answering vibration in his own chest, beneath my hands. A pulse takes flight somewhere within me, a pounding wave of heat spreading across my limbs, demanding more, more of—
This. I never imagined passion like this. I’ve never loved like this.
I don’t know how long the kiss goes on for. We can’t seem to stop, as if we’re trying to make up for weeks and months all at once. But I know that when Jesse finally lifts his head, my chest is heaving and his breath is coming in short bursts, little rapid puffs I can see in the air. I whimper at the sudden loss of heat, missing his lips and tongue and hands, and Jesse slams a quick, hard kiss onto my lips in response to the sound.
“Jesse.” I cut a glance at the cabins behind him, then at his lips, then at the party in full gallop around us.
We look at each other a moment, and then Jesse swoops down to grab my present off the ground and seizes my hand, tugging me toward our cabins, and I’m laughing. He looks back at me as we stumble through his door, and a new smile illuminates his face, one I haven’t seen before but have a feeling I’ll be seeing often now. It sets my stomach fluttering, sends little sparks into my chest.
“Harper,” he says in the quiet of the cabin. “Harper.”
And then my back is against the door and Jesse’s lips are on mine and it’s—
The.
Best.
Christmas.
Ever.
epilogue
One year (and one day) later
Jesse
Harper’s still asleep next to me.
I know this with certainty before I even open my eyes because I can hear her light snoring. I grin at the sound.
I’ve had that same reaction every morning since she first slept over a year ago. I love that the sound confirms that she’s here in my bed, where for months I only imagined her being, before I reach for her warmth and find out how she slept and what she dreamt and whatever else might be on her mind first thing.
Grinning like an idiot and not caring in the least, I open my eyes and turn my head to look at her.
I’ve got it so bad.
Her eyes flutter open at that exact moment, and she smiles when she catches me staring, then turns on her side toward me, tucking one hand beneath her head under the pillow. When she starts to laugh, I seek out her other hand and thread my fingers through hers.
“What’s funny?” I ask.
“You—looking at me all adoringly when I can’t imagine what I must look like after last night.”
I make a show of examining her. Her eyes are a little puffy with sleep, but still bright. Her blonde hair is mussed and messy, and she’s wearing only one Christmas tree earring, the other lost in the sheets. Her lips are pink and still a little swollen, and then there’s just skin for days.
I send her a heated look, speaking in that silent way we sometimes do. My adoration stands.
You’re crazy, she says with her widened eyes.
I grin again and bring her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, then pull her closer to me beneath the sheets. Out loud, I say, “Remind me what happened last night.”
“You don’t remember?” Her tone is flirtatious. She knows I could never forget.
We celebrated our official one-year anniversary last night at the annual Christmas Eve party, but halfway through the night, we escaped from the crowd and ended up back here—in my cabin that we now share. What followed somehow rivaled what happened behind closed doors last year when we came in here to finally give in to all we’d been resisting. A part of me hopes this becomes a tradition.
“Joggle my memory,” I say, pulling her even closer.
“Well, it started a little like this.” She closes the remaining gap between us and releases a groan into my mouth. I swallow it, feeling the fire building in my chest, the one that burns only for her.
One kiss turns into two until our kisses flow into one another, languid and teasing, and become something else, something that begins to heat my blood and test my restraint.
I’ve got it so, so bad.
Her lips slide over to my earlobe, and she tugs on it gently with her teeth. “Do you remember now?”
“I’m starting to,” I breathe, bringing my hand behind her head. I pull her mouth back to mine.
Kissing leads to touching. Touching leads to Harper muttering my name. And the way she mutters my name damn near makes me unravel. When her arms encircle me and I feel her nails dig into my back, any last ounce of control I have is gone, and I shift us, rolling on top of her.
“Looks like your memory is back,” she grins.
I settle my hips against hers, hovering above her and holding her gaze for a brief second before dipping my head down and smiling against her lips. “Not completely. Help me remember what’s next.”
And she does.
And it’s even better than last night.
Every time is better than the last.
Every day is better than the last.
How in the world did I get this lucky?
—
“I really need to get going this time.” Harper is sitting on the edge of our bed buttoning up her shirt.
It’s her second attempt at getting dressed. The first time, she gave in to the kisses I pressed into her neck as I knelt on the bed behind her, falling back in my arms. I’m trying the same tactic now.
“It’s Christmas morning,” I say in between kisses. “Where do you have to rush off to?”
“Just an errand.”
She’s not usually one to keep things vague or to keep secrets from me, but I don’t push it. She must have a reason.
Once she finishes the last button, she spins toward me and smiles, linking her arms around my neck.
“You should get up too, mister,” she grins. “We’re hosting breakfast for our families, remember? And we have guests.”
“You make me forgetful,” I say, leaning in and kissing her again.
At first I thought my constant need for Harper—for this—was out of a desire to make up for the months I was unable to act on my feelings and could only fantasize about being together. But it’s been a full year now, and my desire for her—this nearly impatient need—hasn’t waned, it’s only grown. So I’ve concluded it’s something else entirely.
It’s what happens when you fall for your best friend.
The connection is deeper, more intense, more . . . everything.
I break off the kiss before it goes on too long because I know she’s right. We both need to get moving.
She smiles against my mouth before I pull back. “To be continued . . .?”
I kiss both corners of her mouth, then her forehead. “Absolutely.”
She waits for me to get dressed and we walk out of the cabin together, hand in hand. Snow must’ve fallen last night, because fresh powder is covering everything in a new and pristine blanket. The sun is just beginning to rise, and it’s painting the sky and the snow a variety of colors. The air has that crisp smell, and the birds are starting to chirp.
Our boots leave fresh tracks in the snow as I escort Harper to my car, which we now share, and open the door for her.
Once she’s off, I head to the inn. A couple of guests are staying with us for the holiday, but because they have family in the area and plan to celebrate all day with them, they only requested coffee this morning rather than a full breakfast.
I prepare that coffee now, deciding to hold off on starting preparations for the breakfast Harper and I are making for her parents and mine until her parents surface from their room upstairs and mine arrive.
After I carry the coffee into the parlor and say hello to the few guests who stop in, I wait till the room empties out. Then I take a minute to sit in an armchair by the Christmas tree and enjoy the glow of lights. I haven’t been able to relax here the past couple of days, as we’ve been busy preparing for and hosting the Christmas Eve celebration. But the work we put in panned out.
It was the most well-attended Christmas Eve celebration we’ve ever had at the inn, which made Harper and I feel good, given that it came on the heels of our first official year running it together. It was also fun to have Harper’s parents here for the party. We haven’t yet been able to visit them in Atlanta, given that it’s hard for us to get away, but they don’t seem to mind coming out here; they’ve visited a couple times since Harper called them last Christmas morning to tell them about us—and her plans to remain in Stowe and run the inn with me.
What a year running this place together has been. It’s not yet more successful than it was under the management of my parents, but it’s as successful, which was our goal. Both of us are incredibly grateful for the success and for having a job that allows us to spend so much time together. For some couples, this much alone time might drive them crazy, but for Harper and me, it’s perfect. We can’t seem to get enough of each other.
I feel a smile creep onto my lips as happens anytime I think of that woman. Sometimes I reflect on what I had with Madison and how torn up I was after she initially walked out of my life, and I realize what a blessing in disguise that was. Harper has mentioned feeling the same way about her breakup with her ex-fiancé, Jake. I wish we could tell everyone struggling to get over somebody that there is someone better out there. Your person will show up, and life will make sense again. It just might require waiting. But the wait is worth it.
So worth it.
I hear the front door open and a voice call out my name.
Harper’s voice.
I can’t believe there was a period of my life where I didn’t get to hear it every day. Now I can’t imagine not hearing it every morning, afternoon, and night.
“In here,” I say.
When she walks into the parlor, I notice she’s holding a bag. I rise up out of my chair, and when she hands it to me, I look inside. It’s cream.
“I noticed last night we didn’t have any,” she says. “We need cream to make Irish coffees.”
Brendan’s signature holiday drink.
Whenever I think I’ve reached my threshold for how much I’m capable of feeling, somehow Harper pulls a new emotion out of me. Sometimes it’s an affection. Sometimes it’s a sharp burst of desire. And sometimes it’s a deep connection to a part of my soul, like the one I feel now.
Since we took over the inn, Harper has made a point of preserving both Brendan’s memory and Molly’s, in small ways like this and in bigger ways, like helping me to create a foundation in their honor. The foundation helps support local businesses to keep Stowe a thriving downtown, something we felt was fitting given Brendan and Molly’s love for the city. Harper’s support in this endeavor means so much to me. She means so much to me.
If I were told I had to go back in time and endure all the angst and the uncertainty that accompanied the last holiday season to guarantee my arrival at this moment, I’d suffer through it ten more times—without question.
