Page 110 of Go Back to December

“Alicia. Saw us. Together.”

He shakes his head, perplexed.

“Kissing,” I hiss.

“That’s a problem?”

“It’s a problem for her.”

“Nothing is going on between Alicia and me.”

I release the lapels of his coat and pace the small walkway. “She saw us.”

“So you said!”

I can’t get properly angry at his outburst; I’m too terrified. Once Alicia talks to Badger, I will lose everything. The café. Paris.

Everything that has started here tonight, with Baz.

“We d-didn’t d-disclose,” I stutter, fighting off tears. “Alicia saw us together, and she’s going to tell Badger, and we haven’t, we’re supposed—”

“Hey.” He rests one gloved hand on my shoulder; the other cups my face. “It’s okay. I will make sure that it’s okay.”

“H-How?” I hiccup.

“There was nothing to disclose.”

The words carve through my chest, sharp enough to knock the air from my lungs.

He’s right. We’ve never come out and called what is between us a relationship.

Baz clasps my chin tightly, forcing me to look at him. “There was nothing to disclose until tonight.”

“There you are!” Annabel falls upon us, half laughing, half gasping.

Baz whirls on her like a hurricane, but he backs down when she dangles a set of keys.

“Ready to bounce, or do you want to risk repetitive strain injury of your face, fake smiling at the entire lake?”

As Baz’s eyes meet mine, he keeps his mouth clamped closed, leaving the decision to me.

We’ve come too far to let a misunderstanding sabotage this. I know what I want now, and it’s not space.

Baz reads the decision on my face easily. His fingers creep into my gloved fist, and squeeze.

With a Johnson-sized sigh and eye roll, I reply, “Don’t let him drive.”

Annabel is hell on wheels.

She’s got the golf cart into a higher gear than her parents, and takes it at full speed, barreling up and down the hilly paved tracks of the development.

Baz is not thrilled I’ve made him sit up front next to her. I argued there’s more legroom for his brace, but really, it gives me the space to freak the fuck out about what’s going to happen when we get back to the house.

He has some obvious expectations, and I've entertained the thought of spending the night together. It’s been playing on a loop in my mind for days. Years, if I’m being honest.

We’ve been shedding secrets all night, but the lie I’ve been telling myself since all this began is that I could walk away. Baz was my past, and Paris is my future.

The choice isn’t clear anymore. As much as I want to be with Baz completely, without the burden of clothes or secrets or shame and blame, it’s going to lead to more confusion, not the clarity I’m seeking.