by Jen Morris
He lifts a shoulder but he doesn’t say anything more, and for a second he looks a tiny bit vulnerable.
“No,” I murmur, forcing my attention back to the sink. “It doesn’t bother me at all.”
We do the dishes in silence, both of us lost in thought. After a while, Michael asks, “So what do you think of life in the city?”
My mouth pulls into a grin. “I love it.”
“Must be different from home?”
“God, yes. I come from a town of seven thousand people. They couldn’t be any more different.”
“You don’t miss it?”
I shrug. “I love the energy here, but it has been full-on over the holidays.” New York does Christmas on a grand scale—big displays, bright lights, Santas on every corner. And I’ve loved it, mostly, but I can’t deny it would be nice to get away from the frenzy of the crowds for a while. “I don’t miss home but I miss the quiet, sometimes.”
He thinks for a moment. “If you want a break from the city, I have a cabin you could use.”
“A cabin?”
“Yeah. It’s a family cabin, but hardly anyone else uses it. Mostly just me and Henry, sometimes my brother. It’s at Indian Lake.”
I mull this over as I scrub. Maybe I should get away. Some time out could help me sort my head out with everything.
“Where is Indian Lake?”
“In the Adirondacks.”
I let out a disappointed sigh. “Thanks for the offer. It’s a nice idea, but I have no way of getting there.”
Michael takes a few dishes and stacks them in a cupboard. “When would you go? I’m driving up to see Nana in the new year. I could drop you there on the way.”
“Henry wouldn’t mind?”
“He’ll be with his mom for the week.”
“He didn’t want to see your Nana?”
“Oh, he did.” Michael twists the dishtowel in his hands. “But that’s the week he’s supposed to be with his mom and she wouldn’t let him come.”
“She wouldn’t let him?” I ask, handing him a glass.
He sighs. “It’s easier to go along with her than cause drama.”
I think back to the way he shrank at the dinner table, to the fact that he was battling for custody recently, and a question works its way to the tip of my tongue. “What… um, if it’s okay to ask, what happened with you and her?”
His hand stills on the glass, his brow pulling low. He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before finally saying, “I’m not sure if I want to get into all that right now. I will explain it to you, but… not today. Not at Christmas.” His brow remains furrowed as he meets my gaze. “Is that okay?”
I nod, examining his face. Clearly I’ve hit a nerve here, and I’m not sure I want to press any further. I turn back to the sink, dumping some cutlery into the water. It wasn’t my place to ask, really. I’m about to apologize when he speaks again.
“Anyway, if you want a ride to the cabin, I’m happy to take you. It’s pretty remote—no cell service, no wifi. But it’s a good place to just get away.”
I smile at the thought. “Yeah, okay. That would be great. Thanks.”
Henry has fallen asleep on the sofa and Michael goes into the living room. He flicks the movie off and pulls a blanket up over him, kissing him on the head. It’s such a tiny thing, but it’s so tender it immediately endears him to me. He picks up the dishtowel again as I finish off the dishes and drain the sink.
“You’re a good dad,” I say.
Michael smiles modestly. “Thanks. I try, but I feel like I’m constantly screwing up.”
I root around in a drawer looking for cling film to cover some of the leftovers.
“You kind of helped me to see that I’ve not been the best dad, though.”
I pause, turning to him. “I have?”
“Yeah. You kept pointing out all these things I wasn’t doing, and I started to think—”
“Wait.” I straighten up, confused. “What are you talking about?”
He laughs. “I don’t think you meant to, but you made me see what I’d been forgetting. Like, I never gave Henry pizza, or took him trick-or-treating. And the ice-skating… Anyway, I realized that I’d been kind of uptight, too worried about doing the right things, that I forgot the fun things are important too.”
“Oh,” I murmur. “Shit, I’m sorry. I never meant to—”
“I know.” He puts a hand on my arm. “But I’m glad. I’d been so stressed, so, I don’t know… pissed off at the world. And then I met you, and you reminded me that it’s good to laugh and to have fun.”
I think back to the grumpy guy I met in Starbucks, the man who was unpleasant to me in the hallway on Halloween. He was damn uptight when I met him.
But he’s not that guy at all anymore. Now, he’s playful and cheeky and fun. If I think of our day out in the city, or the visit to Strand, or even just this evening, he’s a far cry from the guy I met. Is that really because of me? Happiness flows through me, warm and bright, at the thought. And—God, I know I shouldn’t—I place my hand over his and squeeze, holding his gaze.
We stand there for a long moment in his kitchen, staring at each other, neither of us wanting to move. My blood is pumping hard, fast, and I try to ignore it, but when Michael draws his hand away, the intensity of my disappointment shocks me. It doesn’t matter what I tell myself. My body knows the truth.
He finds the cling film and I wrap up some turkey in silence, mentally berating myself. It’s my fault I’m in this position—I’m the one who can’t sort their shit out here. And with every passing second, I feel the weight of my indecision pressing in on me, crowding out the kitchen, suffocating the air from my lungs.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt.
“For what?”
“For this whole thing.” I gesture vaguely and he looks puzzled. “For my writing, for us, for not…” I scan his face for a sign of understanding, when it occurs to me that maybe he’s not suffering in the same way that I am. This whole evening I’ve been torturing myself about it, but maybe he’s already moved on and all of this awkwardness is in my head.
“Alex, it’s okay.” He softens, taking a step closer. “You don’t have to apologize.”
“But am I imagining that things are weird? They feel weird.”
“Well, yeah. A little.”
I look up at him. “Why?”
“Because we like each other,” he says simply.
I bite my lip. “Do you… you know, do you still…”
“Of course. I can’t switch my feelings off. I’m just not acting on them.”
I let out a tormented groan. “What am I doing?” I mutter, more to myself than him. I rub my forehead in agitation and he reaches for my hand.
“Hey, it’s okay. We talked about waiting until you find out what’s happening with this job, and that’s the right thing to do.” He takes my other hand, and now he’s holding them both, giving me a gentle smile. My whole body is humming at his touch, and I gaze up at him, swallowing hard.
“You think so?”
He nods. “Do you remember our conversation in Beanie? You told me you spent your twenties not going after what you want, and now you are. I admire that.”
“And what if I get it?”
“Well…” A line forms along his brow. “Then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. But I want to support you, Alex, and if that means… I don’t know, waiting until we can figure out how to make this work, then so be it.” His eyes fix on mine, serious and fiery. “Because when we finally do this, we are going to do it right.”
Oh God.
My heart rate skyrockets at the heat in his gaze, the promise in his words. I’m so breathless I can’t even bring myself to respond.
He stares at me for another second, then drops my hands with a chuckle. “Until then we will just be weird friends. Okay?”
I glance down at my hands, still tingling from being held in his. “Okay,” I murmur. He’s right; my writing
is important to me. Why do I keep forgetting that? I sigh, stepping away from him. “I should probably go.”
Disappointment flits briefly across his face and he nods. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Thanks for inviting me tonight.” I wander to the front door and pull it open. “I had a great time.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you came.”
I turn back to say goodbye and it feels awkward. I’m not sure if I should lean in to hug him, or maybe I should shake his hand? No, that would be too formal. Perhaps a high-five? No, that would be silly. A wave?
But before I can do anything, he leans in and kisses me on the cheek. I feel the whisper of his beard against my skin and I’m immediately transported back to Rockefeller Center, when he pulled me close and kissed me underneath the Christmas tree. It’s so lovely I almost moan, and it takes all my strength not to throw myself against him and pin him to the wall.
Just friends? Come on Michael, you’re killing me here.
“Goodnight, Alex,” he says with a playful little smile, and I get the sense he’s well aware of the effect that kiss had on me.
I shake my head in disapproval, but I can’t curb the insistent smile on my mouth. “Goodnight, weird friend.”
I hear him laugh as I turn and head down the steps home.
28
“Alex, this isn’t a pre-schooler’s birthday party,” Geoff says, pouring himself a piña colada slushie from the machine.
I look down at the cardboard party hats in my hand. “Hey. You put me in charge of decorations, Geoff, so you’re wearing it.” I thrust a hat into his hand.
“Fine.” He rolls his eyes as he slips it onto his head, pulling the elastic under his chin.
I grin, handing one to Cat. At least they are fancy party hats: black with gold lettering that says “Happy New Year” and a gold pom-pom on top. They match the color scheme for the party: gold and black streamers, balloons and a banner. I also organized two slushie machines for cocktails and a cute little selfie corner with props like fake mustaches, wigs, silly glasses and speech bubbles that Cat made.
“I kind of wish I could stay now,” Cat says with a sigh. Turns out things have been going well enough with this Kyle guy that he invited her to some exclusive New Year’s party downtown. She didn’t want to abandon our party, but Geoff insisted she go.
“Don’t be silly,” he says, elbowing her. “You’ve got a hot date on New Year’s Eve! At least you know you’ll get a kiss.”
She raises her eyebrows dubiously, taking a sip from her margarita slushie.
“Did you invite Mel?” I ask.
Cat shakes her head. “She’s out with her new man for the night.” She gives me a tight-lipped smile as I hang some balloons, turning to check the room.
We’ve pushed the sofa back against one wall, got a few folding chairs and cleared a small dance floor area. Geoff put some music on the stereo through his phone and switched off the main lights, so the room is only dimly lit by some twinkle lights. We are ready to go.
Agnes is the first to arrive, dressed in a black turtleneck and slim-fitting black pants. There’s a string of pearls around her neck, and her long silver hair spills down her back behind a black headband. She’s the epitome of sophistication. I want to be her when I get old.
We show her to a comfy spot and get her a cocktail, then Geoff peppers her with questions while Cat and I greet some other guests. There’s a couple of people from the bookstore, some people Cat knows through her shop, a few others from the building and some of Geoff’s friends.
By nine o’clock Michael and Henry still haven’t arrived. I haven’t seen Michael since Christmas, distracting myself with my romance novel and consoling myself with the knowledge that I’d see him tonight. But now I’m thinking he might not even come, and I find myself feeling quite deflated.
I knock back a couple of shots and dance with Geoff and Cat to take my mind off him. I don’t need Michael here to have a good time. In fact, it’s probably better that he’s not here, given how much I’ve had to drink. I get way too flirty when I’m drunk.
I’m just about to grab another drink and flop down beside Agnes, when Michael and Henry appear in the doorway. Elation swoops through me and I’m beaming as I bounce over to greet them. “Hi, guys!”
“Hi, Alex.” Henry stands in the doorway shyly.
“Hey.” Michael gives me an apologetic smile. “Sorry we’re late. We have a tradition of watching a movie together on New Year’s Eve and it went later than I’d expected.”
“That’s okay, I’m glad you came. Henry, there’s soda in the kitchen and snacks over there. Help yourself. Oh, but—” I reach for a couple of party hats and hand them over, my face deadly serious. “You must wear these.”
Henry pulls his hat on, then wanders over to check out the food.
I turn back, noticing Michael’s wide grin as he pulls his party hat on. His gaze travels over me and, I swear, I can feel his eyes sweeping across my skin, around my curves. I splurged a little for tonight on a gold sparkly dress that hugs my hourglass figure and shows off my cleavage. New heels, too—black, patent, higher than I’d normally wear.
“Alex, you look…” he trails off, shaking his head.
Shit, that can’t be good. I frown, adjusting my dress.
“Nice, I mean,” he says quickly. “You look really nice.”
Oh.
“Thanks.” I blush, even though “nice” is how you would describe your mother looking.
He surveys the room and I let my eyes climb his frame, admiring his dark jeans and button-down shirt the color of red wine, sleeves rolled to the elbows, exposing his forearms. God, he’s lovely. Maybe we could sneak off upstairs while—
Whoops. Perhaps I need to dial back the tequila for a bit.
He turns back to me, slipping his hands into his jeans pockets. I’m just about to get him a drink, when Cat appears beside us on her way out. I smile, but she narrows her eyes to slits.
“Hello, Michael.”
He nods. “Catherine.”
So formal. So icy, I almost shiver. My brow knits in confusion as Cat’s gaze cuts to me.
“Alex, can I have a word, please?” She drags me towards the kitchen before I can protest. “Why did you invite him?”
“What? I invited everyone in the building.” I scrutinize her murderous face as she shoots daggers across the room to Michael. “Why are you so annoyed? You weren’t this bothered when Agnes showed up.”
She gives a furious huff. “Yeah, but Agnes isn’t—”
“Cat?” I turn to see a tall, handsome guy weaving across the room towards us.
“Kyle!” A grin breaks across Cat’s face, all signs of animosity gone. As he reaches her side, she mutters to me under her breath, “We’ll talk about this later.” Then she beams up at Kyle as if the sun is shining out of his ass, and I watch in bewilderment as she gives me a carefree wave goodbye and sails out the door.
Well, that was bizarre. First the icy reception towards Michael, then what was all that fake cheer with Kyle?
I shake my head, wandering back to Michael, still standing awkwardly by the door. “Sorry about her.”
He wipes a hand down his face. “Why does she hate me so much?”
“I have no idea.” I analyze his features, searching for clues. Maybe she only knows the Michael I met months ago—the grumpy guy in the hallway who didn’t have a pleasant thing to say to anyone.
He clears his throat and I remember my manners.
“Let’s get you a drink.” I grab his arm, trying not to notice how strong and firm it feels as I pull him over to the drinks table. I let my hand rest on it longer than necessary, enjoying the warmth of his skin under my fingertips.
He gives me a teasing laugh. “It seems I’m a few behind you.”
I nod, pouring two tequila shots and placing both in front of him with a slice of lemon.
“You’re kidding.” A smile flits over his mouth as he eyes the shots. “You do
realize I’m not as young as you. The hangovers are a lot worse at my age.”
“Come on.” I giggle and push the glasses closer to him. “It’s New Year’s Eve. Let’s have some fun.”
My words hang in the air and he gazes at me for a moment, his eyes dancing. There’s a thrill down my spine as the space between us hums with possibility. Then Michael grabs the shots and knocks them back in quick succession, biting the lemon. Fuck, I would do anything to take that out of his mouth with my own right now.
Geoff appears beside me with a mischievous grin. “Alex, who is your friend?”
Oh God, Geoff, I attempt to transmit telepathically. Do not embarrass me.
“Geoff, this is Michael. Michael, this is my boss at the bookstore, Geoff.”
Geoff puts a hand to his chest, pretending to look hurt.
I roll my eyes, adding, “And he’s also a dear friend.”
“Good to meet you,” Michael says, extending his hand. Geoff pounces on it with a hearty shake.
“And you, Michael. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
My cheeks grow hot, even though they’re already rosy from drinking. I elbow Geoff in the ribs, and Michael laughs while Geoff backs away, wiggling his eyebrows up and down suggestively.
Jesus Christ.
“Sorry about him,” I mumble, handing Michael a piña colada slushie and feeling slightly mortified.
But he just grins as I rest against the wall, watching people dance. He leans beside me, his gaze on Henry, chatting to one of our other neighbors.
After a while, Michael leans closer to talk to me over the music. His breath is hot on my ear, sending goosebumps scattering across my skin. “How’s the romance writing coming along?”
Heat creeps up my neck. It’s coming along quite nicely, thanks to me channeling all the lust I’ve felt for him onto the page. In fact, it’s been an extremely productive writing week. “It’s, uh, good.”
“I don’t suppose you’d let me read it?”
“God, no.”
His eyes glint as he appraises me, like he’s enjoying winding me up. “Why not?”
“Because…” I search for a reason I can actually say out loud. Because it’s literally a blow by blow—pun intended—account of everything I want to do to him. Because it’s the only way I can think of right now to not go crazy with desire for him. “It’s embarrassing,” I say at last.
