“Mmm. Weirdly enough, I get horrible reception in my apartment, and at work. And I’ve been very busy wrapping up articles and research.” Her sweet face is open, lovely. I want nothing more than to reach across the table and kiss her plump, pink lips.
“We brought you a ring!” Cliff says.
Talk about dropping a bombshell.
I can see her body stutter at his words. Her eyelashes frame the shock in her big, widened eyes. I shove my groan inside; he didn’t mean to drop a bomb. Todd groans, though it’s quiet. There’s a tug—trying to pull her hand back, but I don’t let go. I keep my eyes locked on her. “Cliff, show her the ring.”
He opens his pudgy hand and presents the paper comet ring like it’s a crown for his queen. Holly’s little gasp of surprise, her mouth in a perfect ‘O’ is the look and sound I want to experience from her every day; for forever. She leans her head close to his, her other hand reaching out to gently touch the edge of the ring. “For me?” she asks, her voice barely there.
Cliff’s face is serious as he nods. Surprising us all, he stands and walks to her side of the table, holding one hand out for hers. When she places her hand in his, he says in his most authoritative six-year-old voice, “Dr. Holly, will you be ours? We think we love you and want to learn about all the stars and constipa—consolation with you. Dad says you get to pick where to live, but I want to let you know I have a really cool bunk bed and you can share with me.”
Holly sucks in a breath. Her eyes sparkle with tears about to topple down her cheeks. “Cliff Noel, I would be honored to be yours. I don’t know what the details will look like, but if you, Todd, and your dad will have me, I’m sure we can make it work.”
Cliff nods, puts the ring on her finger. Half of the restaurant erupts in cheers and claps. None of us realized we were being watched. Todd leans his head on my shoulder. I wrap my arm around him, squeezing Holly’s hand on my other side. “Guess that settles it. We’ll have a busy rest of winter, won’t we?”
Chapter 17
Holly
People are still congratulating us as we leave The Burger and Bunsen, slapping the boys and Jack on the back, shaking my hand. One lady has tears in her eyes as she tries to hug me. Wow. She whispers that we are her Christmas miracle.
It’s dark outside, and it only adds to my disorientation of the last hour or two. I mean, I want this—this man and these boys who hung the moon for me. But I never in a million years assumed it would happen this lightning fast. Deep breaths.
Jack hovers at the door to my apartment as the boys and I stumble through. They kick off their boots. I tell them to make themselves at home…and they do. Cliff takes Todd on a tour of my small space, pointing out anything he thinks is interesting. “Look at that star picture! Look! A candy wrapper—she must really like peanut butter chocolates. Oh, a plant. She has a green thumb!”
I’m using all my might to keep from bursting out laughing, even as I give Jack dancing eyebrows to entice him inside. “Listen, I want to talk more, but I need to get these guys home.”
That pulls me up short. I grab his arm and haul him inside, closing and locking the door behind him. “You’re doing so such thing. I bet you have an emergency bag in the truck. You can get it in a few minutes. If not, we’ll hop down to the pharmacy and get toothbrushes. But you are not driving that curvy mountainous road home in the dark, just to prove…what? You’re steadfast independence?” He tries to interrupt me. I step into his personal space and place a finger over his mouth.
“Listen to me, Jack Noel. I just found you. This has been the most depressing week of my life, and it’s all your fault. All my colleagues are celebrating the comet, and I’m moping about, eating chocolate peanut butter Santa faces because I miss you. Sure, I didn’t answer the phone, but you didn’t leave a message! And now you’re here. You’re in my clutches, and I’m not letting you go.”
Before I can suck in a large enough breath to continue my tirade, Jack pulls me into him and smashes his lips to mine.
Yes, that’s better.
The next day, after an evening of kisses, trying to find enough blankets and pillows for the boys to build a fort, and watching The Grinch, Jack and I sit down with coffee, my laptop, a notepad, and a calendar in order to figure out our new life.
He smolders at me as I sip my coffee, and I remember that same look last night, with his hand over my mouth again,keeping me quiet as I begged him for more. Get your thoughts under control, I berate myself, clear my throat, and begin.
“I’m teaching three days a week this semester. I have research, writing, student meetings, faculty meetings.” Already I feel like we’re losing. I love my work; I don’t want to give it up. But neither do I want to give him up—correction, them.
“I have…getting the boys to and from school, chores, snow shoveling.” He gives me a rare, sly smile as he leans in to whisper, “And lots of orgasms to give.”
My cheeks heat and my nostrils flare as I send messages through my eyeballs that say things like, knock it off, the boys are right there! and don’t tease me right now. His only response is a quiet chuckle and a sip of black coffee.
“There are probably some meetings with staff, Department of the Interior folks, something. My schedule isn’t memorized, and it is flexible.”
“Well, I guess if my TA takes over Thursday afternoon office hours, I can book it up the mountain as long as the weather’s good. I did not like driving that road in the snow!”
“Hold it right there.” He holds a hand up in the ‘stop,’ position, and I know I’ve already overwhelmed him. “Don’t change anything. Send me a copy of everything. Hans has been chomping at the bit to take over more work, though I think Anna is pushing him. The boys and I can spend weekends with you for now. And we’ll figure out the rest. Todd has grumbled about the lack of robotics at his tiny school. Maybe there’s something here for him.”
There’s more in his head, I can see it as his eyes dart around at the scheduling disaster that is my life, but he doesn’t tell me. Doesn’t let it out.
“The only thing I want you to consider is maybe us renting a larger place here, so the boys have a room. I’ll pay for it. All I need you to do is give the ‘okay.’
I look over at the boys sprawled on the floor. They didn’t bring their game console, so they’re stuck watching my favorite Charlie Brown Christmas, which they’ve never seen before. I may have to question Jack’s parenting methods. Who doesn’t make their children watch Charlie Brown at Christmas? He’s a national institution.
They’ve been troopers—last week, last night, this morning. I did make them French toast this morning, and you would have thought they were dining on the finest fare. All the mmm’s and groans were too much praise for my doctoring up stale bread.
