by Karen Booth
The pressure of pleasure was warring in her body with the melancholy. She had to fight for the good, cling to the beauty of two people who understand each other and want to please each other. She let her thoughts go and opened her eyes, soaked up the beauty of Alex.
His breaths were tearing from his chest now, and hers were nearly the same. Tension doubled in her belly, then doubled again, and just as she felt herself teetering on the edge, she tumbled into the release and gave herself up to it. Alex’s torso froze for a moment as he reached his own climax, his shoulders and hips shuddering when he relaxed and let it wash over him. He collapsed into her and she wrapped every limb she had around him as tightly as she possibly could.
A million kisses followed, or at least it felt that way—an embarrassment of riches. Dinner was a distant thought. Alex got up and used the bathroom, then Joy, and they retreated to bed, wound around each other and silent.
There wasn’t much more to be said. Talking about what was coming wouldn’t solve a thing. Sometimes, just giving in to the inevitability of something could be freeing.
You can’t fight every last thing in life. Eventually, you’ll lose.
Alex fell asleep while they were still entwined. The warm flickers from the fire lit up the side of his handsome face. Joy let her eyes roam, taking in every inch of perfection. She had to remember everything—the exact curve of his mouth, the way his lashes skimmed his cheeks when his eyes were closed, the dimple in his chin.
She was going to be so disappointed with herself in the years to come if she wasn’t able to conjure up this image and make him seem real. Her memories were the only things she had left to cling to. He was about to walk out of her life. She’d known all along this was coming, and although it already hurt—although it already made a pit in her stomach and her chest blaze with a flame that might never go out—she refused to regret her time with Alex. He had given her so much. He had reminded her of the things she still loved about herself—her passion, her heart.
There had been a time in her not-so-distant past when she’d hated herself. That entire drive from Santa Barbara to Vail had been a long running dialogue about what a failure she was, how she’d created every terrible thing in her life that she hated. She’d been knee-deep in the reverberations of that self-loathing when Alex came down the hill that night. He’d lifted her out of it and shaken her into her better state, one where she didn’t question her abilities, her talents, herself.
She’d thought about telling him that she was falling in love with him, but that didn’t make any sense now. What good would it do? It would only make parting that much harder. It would make it painfully awkward. She wasn’t about to ruin yet another good thing. She had to take the fleeting moments they had together and hold on to them in her heart forever. That was the best she could possibly do. For both of them.
She snuggled closer to him and set her head against his chest. She let his warmth seep into her, trying to ignore the worry that when he was gone, she might be left a cold and empty shell. She turned her face into his skin, inhaled his comforting smell as tears rolled down her cheeks.
He deserved to know the truth. “I’ll always love you, Alex Townsend. Even after we say goodbye.”
Eleven
Joy had to make up for the disaster that had been last night’s dinner. They hadn’t eaten until after midnight, when Alex had woken up, his stomach growling. Even then, they’d only made grilled cheese sandwiches. That flopped soufflé? Sadly, it had ended up in the trash.
She’d gone with apple cinnamon muffins—Alex had mentioned the other day how much he loved anything with cinnamon. The kitchen smelled amazing and she hoped that her perfect vision of Christmas morning would come to fruition.
She walked into the living room with a tray of coffee and breakfast. “I hope you’re not disappointed, but I made muffins this morning. I can’t serve you scones forever.” She slid the tray onto the coffee table.
He stood and went to her, seeming exceedingly happy. “I already know I love your muffins.” He gave one butt cheek a gentle squeeze and kissed her softly.
She laughed, their lips still brushing against each other before they were naturally drawn into a deeper kiss. She grasped his shoulder and bowed into him, then realized how close she was to getting pulled off track. As much as she loved sex with Alex, this morning was important for other reasons. “If we aren’t careful, it’ll be a repeat of our first tree lighting ceremony, right here in this room.”
That day had been such an amazing turn of events. She loved reliving every moment—the flirting, the longing, the moment when they’d been unable to fight their attraction anymore and she’d finally just kissed him. It had been one of the best days of her life.
“After presents. And breakfast.” He sat on the couch next to her and sipped his black coffee. If she wasn’t mistaken, that was contentment on his face.
Joy handed him a muffin. “Apple cinnamon. Pretty basic, but they’re still really good.”
“I would say you’re full of yourself, except that I know you’re not.” He removed the paper baking cup and took a generous bite. “Absolutely perfect.”
“Thank you. That’s sweet.”
“Just telling you the truth.” He finished off his muffin and sat back, trailing his fingers up and down Joy’s back. “When do you want to open gifts?”
“I’m worried you won’t like what I got you.”
“Not possible. No way. You could just give me the recipe for these muffins and I’d be happy.”
She knocked her fist against his knee. “I never said I was going to give you something that good.” She took another sip of her coffee and got up from the couch. “Now is as good a time as any.” Kneeling down, she pulled a small box out from under the tree. “You first.”
The gift was wrapped in gold foil, with a red ribbon he untied. He slipped the box from the paper and lifted the lid. Inside, on a bed of cotton fluff, sat the silver money clip she’d bought him at a men’s store in the village with the money from her grandmother’s necklace. He picked it up and held it in the palm of his hand. She’d worried that it wouldn’t make a grand enough impression, but he truly seemed to like it. “It’s beautiful. What is this embossing on the top?” He ran his thumb over the irregular texture, a series of short diagonal lines.
“Do you not recognize it?” She snickered. “It’s supposed to look like tire tracks. I thought it would be a fun reminder of the way we met.”
He shook his head and laughed. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“Just like I’ll never live down diving into a snowbank.” She sucked in a deep breath, but the weight of the moment lodged in her throat. That had been the beginning and they were now wedged in the end. She hated the end. She hated goodbyes. There was never a single fun thing about them, but this one was already especially painful. “I just wanted to give you something that you could remember me by. Something to carry in your pocket.”
“Well, thank you. I love it. I will always keep it with me. Always.” His comment was only confirmation that they really would be parting. There wasn’t the slightest hint of staying another day. He was ready to say farewell. He got up and retrieved more than one box from under the tree. “I know we said we were only going to do one gift, but I cheated and got you three.”
“Alex. You weren’t supposed to do that. It’s so mean. I only got you one.”
“I know, but I just couldn’t decide. I literally could’ve bought out the whole store when I went shopping.”
“And then you would’ve had nothing for your money clip, so I’m glad you kept things in check.” She desperately wanted to keep the tone light and fun, even when it was the opposite of what she was feeling. She just had to hold it together a little longer.
He set the packages on the coffee table, setting one apart from the
others. “This one gets opened last.”
“Okay.” She took the first of the two remaining and tore open the paper. The instant she saw the famous red and black checks on the camel cashmere background, she knew exactly how extravagant he’d been. “A Burberry scarf? I love it. I’ve always wanted one of these.” She’d actually fantasized about it, but never thought she’d ever actually own one. She wrapped it around her neck and bunched up her shoulders. “It’s so soft.”
“You were complaining about your scarf the day of the tree lighting and I thought it would look gorgeous against your dark hair. And it does.”
“Well, thank you. I love it. I will keep it forever.” Forever. She needed to avoid that word. It was only going to take its toll later. She took the second package and opened that one just as quickly. “Oh. Perfume. I never buy myself perfume.” She removed the top and spritzed some on her wrists. It smelled like vanilla and sugar cookies. “Ooh. Yummy.”
“This one might be stupid. I bought it because it reminded me of the way you smell when you’ve been baking. I just thought it would be nice.” He swiped the final gift from the table. “Now this one, you’re just going to have to tell me to take a hike if you don’t want it. I’m not trying to make you feel hemmed in or anything.”
Her brows drew together. She couldn’t imagine what it could possibly be. The box was smaller than the scarf box, but the same shape—long and flat. “Now you really have me curious.” She was much more careful with the paper this time, knowing this was the final part of their Christmas morning together. The tape popped free and she carefully set aside the wrapping intact. She opened the box. A folio was inside, but she still had no guess as to what this was. She opened the front flap. Inside was a plane ticket. To Fiji.
“Oh, my God. A trip.”
For a moment, her heart performed the most ridiculous routine—jumping around like it wasn’t attached to anything.
“Yes. Fiji. I just, I think one thing we both learned over the last few days is that we could use a vacation. A real vacation where nobody worries about work at all. And I thought that the farthest we could go away, the better. I’ve been to this resort and it’s beautiful.”
She didn’t say a word. She just stared at the tickets, frozen. A tear rolled down her cheek.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to go. I just...” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
She looked up to see him warring with himself. Was he changing his mind?
“I don’t want this to end,” he said.
It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her. And now Joy was tangled in a web of her own making.
In her wildest dreams—or more like nightmares—she couldn’t have come up with a scenario like this one. She wanted to cry and scream. She wanted to kiss Alex for being desperately romantic. She wanted to be in his arms and tell him that she loved him.
But there were about one hundred things that had to be said before that. And she was reasonably sure she’d never get that far. The tears—oh, boy, did they come, like she’d never cried in her entire life and had been waiting for this moment.
Because the truth was that the name printed on her ticket was Joy Baker. Her fake last name might as well have been Betrayal. That was what she’d done. She’d betrayed him. And for someone who’d made a zillion mistakes in her life, this one was definitely the worst.
* * *
An hour ago, Alex was sure he hadn’t been this excited about Christmas morning since he was a kid. He’d certainly been nervous about how his gifts would go over with Joy. Now she was crying and hadn’t said a single thing that sounded like yes.
Why had he been so stupid? How had he read it so wrong? It was too big a leap. They’d only known each other for a little more than ten days. This was not the same as asking a woman out to dinner on the fourth or fifth date. Sadly, he couldn’t undo it now.
“Why are you crying?” Alex gently rested his hand on her shoulder. In some ways, touching her only made it worse. She didn’t respond like she normally did. She nearly recoiled.
“I have to tell you something. I have to tell you a lot of something.” She gulped for breath. She kept looking at the floor. “This isn’t my name. My name is Joy McKinley. I made up Baker because I’d just spent the whole day working at the bakery and I was trying to hide my identity because nobody can know that I’m here.”
Alex felt as though she had just plunged a knife into his heart. She wasn’t who she said she was?
“I don’t understand. Hide your identity? Is someone trying to hurt you?”
“Not exactly. I’m not really supposed to be staying in this house. It’s not owned by friends of mine—it belongs to my former employer. I quit after she and I had a huge argument, and she said that if I ever gave her reason to, she would destroy my career. She and her husband are immensely powerful in the food world. If she wanted to, she could make it impossible for me to get any job as a chef, let alone pursue anything else with cooking.”
“How powerful could these people be?”
“Harrison Marshall, the celebrity chef. The house belongs to him and his wife, Mariella.”
“Oh, wow.” Alex didn’t know the ins and outs of the culinary world, but he did know who the Marshalls were. Joy’s story was becoming more and more complicated. Alex was struggling to keep up. None of it made sense. “So why wouldn’t you just go somewhere else? Do you not have permission at all?”
“My boss’s son said I could stay here until mid-January, but nobody could know about it because his mom hates me. I had nowhere else to go. I have no money. I haven’t been able to find a place I can afford. And you know I can’t go home.”
“You didn’t have a friend you could stay with?”
“Not here. I have some in other parts of the country, but I couldn’t get that far. That pile of junk under the tarp in the garage is my car. It doesn’t work. That’s why I need a ride everywhere.”
Alex put his elbows on his knees and ran his hands through his hair. What in the hell was happening? Was fate playing some cruel trick on him? She kept launching lie after lie at him and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do about any of it.
“Say something, please. I am so sorry. I never would’ve lied to you if I’d known what was going to happen between us. It was just one little lie after another, piled on top of the first one.”
He then turned to her, his head hung low. The hurt in his heart was unfathomable. He wasn’t sure he knew how to breathe anymore, or if he even wanted to. He wanted to disappear. “You couldn’t bring yourself to tell me the truth before now? When you were basically backed into a corner? What about the day we went to the tree lighting? Or last night when I came over?”
“Are you serious? That would’ve been better? If I had ruined those beautiful, romantic moments we were sharing? For all I knew, you and I were never going to see each other again after today. You’ve only mentioned your departure date a dozen times, like you wanted to remind me that there was an expiration date on our affair.”
His vision narrowed on her and the hurt faded, giving way to anger. “It was a fact. Nothing more than that. And it was the truth, which seems to be a big problem for you. No wonder my private investigator couldn’t find anything about you. It was almost as if you didn’t exist. Now I know that Joy Baker from Santa Barbara, California, doesn’t actually exist. She’s fake.”
Joy’s eyes blazed with fury. “You called your private investigator about me? Is that what you do with all women?” She got up from the couch and stared down at him. “You probably don’t want to risk getting involved with anyone too messy. The perfect Alex wouldn’t want to look bad.”
“You want to know why I called my private investigator? Because my ex-fiancée was actually a career criminal. A con artist, trying to get at my money. Maybe you two know each
other.” That was a low blow, but he refused to take it back. He was too mad right now. Every happy, hopeful thought he’d dared to have over the last week had been destroyed with her version of the truth.
Joy picked up the tickets and threw them at him. “You can take your fancy Fiji trip and shove it. I wouldn’t get on an airplane with you if my life depended on it. Just go by yourself and find some anonymous woman to sleep with, like you did with me. If you keep it short and sweet, you won’t even have to call your PI to do a background check.”
Alex picked up the money clip and tossed it in his palm. “Where’d you get the money for this? Did you steal it?” He had to know the full extent of her deception.
She started crying again, which just felt manipulative. “No. I did not steal it. I pawned the only thing I own of my grandmother’s. A gold necklace that she’d gotten from one of her employers. She was a cook. Just a plain old regular cook, Alex. She worked for almost nothing, cooking for families like yours. That’s why my parents didn’t want me to pursue my dreams. They didn’t want me to have the life I have right now, but that’s just the way things are. I know I messed up. I lied to you. I fully own up to that. But you have accused me of things today that I can’t live with. Because no matter what, I know now that you never trusted me. From the very beginning. That’s no basis for happiness.”
Alex’s jaw was set firmly. He really hadn’t trusted her. He’d only convinced himself that he did. Now he knew that he’d been right. “I don’t think you understand what I went through. A woman literally tried to trick me into marrying her, just so she could get my money. Do you have any idea how awful that was for me? And how this feels like more of the same?”
