I pull back, leaving my forehead against hers. My breathing is as erratic as I feel inside. She drives me wild. Always has. With my eyes closed, I kiss her temple and lean back to look into those hazel eyes again. “I want you so badly.”
Her hands slide up to my wrists as if she needs something stable to hold on to. Gripping them, she whispers through jagged breaths, “I do, too, but?—”
“It’s not the right time. I know. I just?—”
“I know.” She nods, her lids dipping closed as if she aches for me as I do for her. “I feel the same.”
I hate doing it, but I take a step back, shoving my hands in my pockets, and give her space. It’s torture being this close to her again without taking it a step further. I’m just not sure whattomorrow brings with so much unresolved still hanging over our heads, taunting us.
She brushes her hair out of her face, the length so much longer than I’ve seen it. Strands puff in front of her face when she blows out in annoyance. “Do you have a hair tie or rubber band, or something that I can tie my hair back with?”
“Um . . .” I glance around, but nothing triggers an idea in the kitchen. I open a few drawers to look before I say, “I have a paperclip?”
“Can I ruin it?”
I drop the paperclip when another idea comes to mind. “How about a shoelace?”
She smiles so damn prettily that I might have to restart my heart. “A shoelace works.”
Rushing toward my bedroom, I say, “I’ll be right back.” In my closet, I look for the cleanest pair of shoes I own. No way am I giving her a dirty shoelace to put in her hair. I pull my nicest Italian shoes from the shelf. It’s a pair I only wear on special occasions and undo the lace.
When I walk out of the closet, I stop when I see Sosie standing in the doorway. Her eyes travel from the small tree on my nightstand to me in the opposite corner. “So this is where you keep your secret stash of holiday decor.” Her smirk holds hints like she knew I was a closeted Christmas lover, to signs that she loves being let in on the secret of where I hide my decorations. “Hiding them in the bedroom so only you get to enjoy it.” She crosses the room but glances at me. “Unless you have it in here for when you have company.” Her grin falters before she sets it right.
“I don’t have company.”
Reaching the end of the bed, she stops and looks back. “Like ever?”
“Never.”
The smirk defining her earlier expression fades into sincerity. “Neither do I.”
Although she seems to be satisfied with the tidbit of information, I can’t help but wonder if she’ll be upset once she sees that tree up close. She moves in, and I follow, keeping some distance in case . . . I don’t know what in case of. I just give her some space.
She bends down and taps one earring and then the other before running her finger along the strand of gemstones. Looking back over her shoulder, she’s still smiling, and it’s grown. That’s a good sign. “You still have the tree.”
“It never came down. Though I must admit, I reworked the electrical system two years ago.”
Turning around, she comes to me, taking the shoelace from my fingers and slipping it under her hair. “I missed those earrings. They’re quirky.”
“They’re yours. If you want them.”
“I think they look better on the tree.” Gathering the laces together, she ties a bow in her hair, leaving it to hang down behind her back. “I honestly forgot about the diamonds.” She laughs. “My parents gave me the same necklace two years in a row. Guess they forgot to tell their shopper to update the list.”
I’m not surprised her parents sent a stranger to shop for her Christmas gift. It’s the “diamonds” that stand out. “When you say diamonds, you just mean because they look like it, right?”
“No.” With a heartier laugh, she touches my cheek. “That’s not what I mean.” She peeks back once more at the necklace draped around the top of the plastic tree, and then says, “That necklace is worth a good amount of money. It’s real, alright.”
Not sure why my stomach drops from the thought. Maybe because there were nights I couldn’t afford more than a cup of soup or that damn pasta with no butter or sauce. To learn that I could have bought a car for what that necklace is worth makesme kind of sick. Not that I need a car in New York, but damn. “It never crossed my mind.” I look at it shimmering against the little lights, feeling a bit stupid. “I guess I should have known.”
Taking my hand between hers, she draws on my palm with her fingertip. “Would you still have it if you had known?”
“Not if I were smart.” I crack a smile and then nod when she looks up. “Probably. I mean, I needed something to make my tree sparkle. And since you weren’t here . . .”
“I wish I had been.” Lowering my hand, I sit on the edge of the mattress, still holding it. “You don’t know how much I’ve wished things could have been different.”
Standing there, I’m tempted to pull my hand away, get defensive, and scrape my fingers through my hair. I don’t. I have to face the pain, especially if she’s willing to address it. “You didn’t need to make wishes, Sosie. I was there, begging you like an idiot in front of your house and neighbors to come out, to fight for me. I would have burned the world down protecting you from your parents. I wasn’t given the chance.”
“Me either, Keats.” She stands in front of me, staring up like I’m the judge and jury. “You must believe me. Our night together was everything to me.”
