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“We’re taking it slow, you dirty old woman,” I tease her.
Beatrice scoffs. “Go have a good time so we can live vicariously through you.”
“What do you think?” I ask.
“Let’s do it.” Nick reaches for my hand and the two of us hurriedly don our outerwear and venture back into the cold, hand in hand.
“I hope what Beatrice said didn’t make you uncomfortable.” I venture as we approach the end of the street.
Nick smiles at me. “Nah, I’m used to her lack of filter by now. She and Mom have been thick as thieves practically forever.”
“Yeah. She’s irrepressible.”
“Oh, I can hear the music. Come on, we should hurry so we don’t miss it!” Nick grabs my hand and pulls me into the crowd on the sidewalk to admire the lights and music. The part of me that hasn’t given up on the perfect holiday romance is giddy as he grins back at me. He seems as eager as I am to drink in every drop of holiday magic.
Nick doesn’t release my hand when we find a vantage next to a family with several laughing children. They’re adorable, making grabby hands at the elves on foot next to the high school marching band handing out candy.
I stand pressed up against my date as the parade marches past. A perfect holiday dusting of snow drifts down on us like sifted sugar melting on our tongues. It’s hard to live in this moment when Beatrice dangled the possibility of having him for more than a few dates in front of my face. I try my damnedest not to miss out on the moments I do have with Nick by yearning too hard for what I can’t have.
Chapter 11
Nick—December 22nd
“So,youcouldcomeback to my place for coffee. If you want?” Carl won’t meet my eyes as we watch the crowd disperse into the night. The last few flashing lights behind the Santa float pass out of sight around a bend in the road. I get the impression he’s no more ready for the night to end than I am.
“Sure.” I nod. “I can bring your cookies to you tomorrow before your sister’s party, so we don’t have to face Beatrice’s teasing.”
“She means well, but yes, I’d just as soon avoid that. Just, um, one thing?” Carl licks his lips, drawing my attention to just how much I want to kiss him here in the snow.
“Sure, what’s up?” It’s on the tip of my tongue to offer him anything he wants, or voice a flippant flirtation about how coffee never means coffee. Even though I’ve wished that wasn’t true countless times before. When a date goes well and I want to keep the conversation flowing all night long, but it somehow always flows right into bed instead. I’ve long since learned that I’m the weird one for wanting more than a physical connection.
When Carl continues, I’m glad I curbed the impulse. “When I say coffee, I actually mean coffee. So if you’re expecting something else…”
“Nope!” I can’t quite hide how nice that sounds. “No expectations, Carl. Coffee sounds wonderful, as long as it’s with you.”
“Phew. Let’s go then.” He squeezes my hand, rigid tension going out of his shoulders as he sidles closer to drop his head to my shoulder. We stroll toward his car hand in hand. The closeness makes me wonder what it might be like to snuggle even closer than that. Not sex…but would cuddling fall within his boundaries?
I wait until we’re in the relative privacy of his car to ask. “I know you said no to sex. But kissing is okay. So, I’m wondering how you feel about cuddling? Or making out with our clothes on? I guess, just, where are the lines I shouldn’t cross?”
“Cuddling is good.” Carl glances over at me, mutters something I don’t catch under his breath, and then he says. “I suppose at this point I should just tell you. I’m ace.”
“Ace?”
“Yeah. Asexual. And that response is why I don’t tell many people. They usually don’t know what it means and unless we’re dating, it’s none of their business.”
“But we are dating.”
“Fakedating.” He flashes me a rueful smile.
My stomach drops at the reminder that this isn’t real. My feelings for him are anything but fake anymore. But he’s right, and I just can’t reconcile how a relationship with Carl could work once I’m back in Toronto. It’s not like I have much vacation time for visits. It’s already been a huge stretch to take most of December off to help Mom. My boss has been breathing down my neck about when I’ll be back in the office to deal with a problem client who has been requesting me by name.
Nevermind that the time away has only made me realize just how much I dread going back to that office when this month is over. Other than my job, what do I really have waiting for me in Toronto? A lifeless ultramodern penthouse condo? A job that sucks out my soul and steals all my time? More failed superficial relationships that don’t fulfill me?
“Right. Fake dating. So, what does it mean?” I ask.
“It means I’m not really sexually attracted to anyone,” Carl explains. He combs the fingers of one hand through his bushy beard.
“So, when you said no casual sex, did you mean that, or just no sex at all?” I ask.
