Page 46 of Elf-ish

Eventually, he kneels at the end of the bed and crawls up it. The prowl shouldn’t look so sexy. The slink of his body. The hug of his boxer briefs. That tattoo on his side.

Dragging my gaze away, I fall to my back again while Jude flips to his before reaching for the lamp and turning off the light. We’re plunged into darkness, and silence falls heavily around us, the weight thicker than the pillow between us.

Eventually, he clears his throat. “Thank you for listening. And being here with me.”

“Of course.” I smile, but the motion feels forced. “That’s what a fake girlfriend does.”

“Yeah. A fake one,” Jude replies, his voice quiet, sleepy almost.

After several long minutes of silence, I assume he is sleeping when he clears his throat. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” I whisper to the dark ceiling, before holding my breath.

“Do you think people can change?”

I roll my head on my pillow, struggling to make out Jude’s form in the darkness. “Absolutely. Why?”

He doesn’t respond at first, then says, “Something strange happened to me. When I had the heart attack.”

Stress cardiomyopathy, I want to correct, but I bite back the words.

“I heard something. Felt something.”

I roll my lips, holding my breath.

“Like a voice spoke to me.” He pauses. “Asking me not to leave her.”

“Who?” I whisper, not because I need to know who she is, but to learn if he knows it was me.

“I don’t know. I think she was an angel.” He chuffs, dismissive but low. “But that’s silly, right?”

“Anything is possible, Jude.”

He is quiet another minute. But I can almost hear the gears of thought clicking from his side of the bed. Questions churning. Emotions concerning.

“She didn’t kiss me, but it almost felt like she did.” His voice is so quiet, I’m not certain he intends for me to hear him, but I do.

“Like she was giving her breath to me.” The confusion in his voice is evident. Like he’s baffled by what he’s saying, by what happened to him.

“Like she wanted me to live and brought me back so I could.”

I lick my lips before I speak. “Maybe she did want you to live.”

His head turns in my direction. “But not as I was. Not like those greedy bastards with old school ideas and a fixation on money.”

“Perhaps,” I offer.

He shifts once more. With my eyes adjusting to the dark, I see he’s on his side, facing me. His hand slips over the pillow and his fingers brush the inside of my elbow.

“The whole idea is a bit ludicrous, though. Scrooge didn’t really change after those three ghosts visited him, right?”

“I think he did,” I state, recalling how A Christmas Carol is all about transformation. In an effort to lighten the moment, I add, “And I thought you didn’t watch that stuff.”

“Don’t you remember it being required reading back at Immaculate Academy?”

I chuckle. “I’m surprised you remember.”

Silence fills the room again until Jude’s fingers brush along my inner arm. “I’m sorry we weren’t friends in high school.”