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But I broke that streak as I dragged Lockjaw onto my lap, buried my face in his back, and cried into his fur.
I barely remembered getting home and getting Lock out of his harness then kicking off my shoes, and I was too out of it to even pull down my Murphy bed. I ended up crashing on the couch, burying my face in the cushions with a blanket pulled up over my head, and just letting it all out.
I couldn't imagine a future without Crosby in it.
Hell, I couldn't even imagine a future with Crosby at a distance, but still in the picture.
I needed him right where I have always had him. Close. A part of my daily life. I needed him to be who I texted pictures to when I was trying to decide between two things I was about to buy, the call I made when I needed to vent, the person across the table from me when I was celebrating a personal or professional win.
I just needed him, damnit.
A part of me knew it was selfish to have these thoughts when, clearly, Crosby was suffering. Worse than that, Crosby had been suffering for a long time without saying anything.
My heart ached for that, for knowing I was not only a part of that, but the main reason for it.
I'd never wanted to hurt Crosby.
He was my best friend, my closest confidant, my support system. Most of the best times of my life had been with him at my side.
I couldn't fathom a future without that.
Or with him there, but someone else at his side.
If I thought the ache inside was bad before, that thought sent a shooting pain through my chest, an intense enough sensation to make my hand press to my heart.
Over what?
Crosby not being by me?
Or about Crosby being with someone else?
Both, I decided as a pathetic little whimper escaped me. It was both.
I wanted him by my side.
And I didn't want him with anyone else.
I curled upward on the couch, scrubbing the tears off my face, trying to fit this new information in with the other thoughts I'd been trying to suppress during pretty much all of our Christmas dates.
I wanted him close.
I didn't want him with anyone else.
And, well, I wanted him.
That was what all this boiled down to, didn't it?
Yes, I was sad at the idea of losing a friendship as I knew it, but I was just as upset about the idea of losing being his everything.
That said something.
I wanted him to be my everything.
And I wanted to be his everything.
What's more, he wanted that too.
All the worries I had concocted in my head when I felt myself starting to feel more than friendly toward Crosby were unfounded.
I mean, really, what were the risks?
That we suddenly decided we hated each other? That seemed unlikely given that we have been so close for so long.
That we didn't jive in the intimacy department? Judging by the mistletoe kiss and the little incident in his bed and about a half dozen other moments since our Christmas dates started, I didn't think that would be an issue either.
So what was the problem?
The answer was simple: there wasn't one.
I'd just let my uncertainties run away with me. And in doing so, hurt someone I loved. Enough that he decided he was "done" with me.
I had to do something.
On that, I hopped off the couch, going into the bathroom, ready to wash my face and rush over there, only to see the mess I was. I wasn't usually the self-conscious sort, but I didn't want to tell my best friend that I wanted to be more than friends with him with swollen eyes and red cheeks.
I wanted it to be something to remember. I wanted to put effort in so that he knew I was being genuine, that I wasn't just impulsively saying things because I was scared of losing him.
So I washed my face, I brushed my teeth, then I went through my closet, picking out the best outfit I could find for the Christmas Eve party we were both going to attend the next night. I knew there was no way he was going to skip on it. It had been a tradition for him even longer than it had been for me. He would be there. And I would be there. In that dress. Looking rested and sure of myself.
Then I was going to tell him.
That, like the song went, all I wanted for Christmas was him. But, you know, less cheesy. Or not. Crosby loved cheesy and Christmas and, it seemed me.
It was time to tell him I felt the same way.CHAPTER TENCrosbyI picked up my phone at least a dozen times between her leaving my house the night before and getting ready to head out for the Christmas Eve party.
