Pawliday Love

Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

DEREK

D anny's retreating footsteps echo in my ears as I stare at the ornament still warm from her touch.Scout gives me a reproachful look before padding after her to the kitchen.Some wingman he's turning out to be.

I've spent the last four years building a life in New York, making million-dollar decisions without hesitation.But watching Danny flee from me again leaves me more terrified than any board meeting ever has.

"Need help?" I follow them into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe as Danny rifles through cabinets.

"I've got it." She stretches up on tiptoes to reach the pasta, her sweater riding up to reveal a strip of skin.My fingers itch to trace the constellation of paint spots dotting her lower back, a habit she clearly still hasn't broken.

"The sauce is in the top right cabinet." I step closer, fighting the urge to press against her and grab it myself."Unless you're planning to serve plain pasta?"

She shoots me a glare over her shoulder."I'm not completely helpless in the kitchen anymore."

"Says the woman who once set off the fire alarm making ramen."

"That was one time!" But there's a hint of a smile in her voice."And you distracted me."

The memory of that night hits me as I meet her eyes.I remember my hands sliding under her shirt and her gasping my name as the noodles burned, forgotten on the stove.The air between us grows thick with unspoken words.

"Let me help," I say softly. "Please."

She stills, then gives a short nod.I reach around her for the sauce, letting myself breathe in her intoxicating scent.Scout watches our dance with curious eyes, tail thumping against the cabinet.

We work in silence for a while, falling into an old rhythm.She fills a pot with water while I chop garlic and basil from Aunt Sue's windowsill herbs.Our arms brush as we move around the small kitchen, each touch sending sparks across my skin.

"I meant what I said before," I finally break the silence."About no one comparing to you."

"Derek--"

"Let me finish." I set down the knife, turning to face her."I know I hurt you. Choosing New York over us was the biggest mistake of my life."

She keeps her back to me, shoulders tense."You seemed pretty convinced it was the right choice at the time."

"I was young and stupid." I step closer, close enough to see the way her hands tremble slightly on the wooden spoon."I thought success meant corner offices and seven-figure bonuses.Turns out success feels pretty hollow when you're eating takeout alone every night, staring at paintings you bought because they remind you of the real thing."

"Don't." Her voice cracks. "You don't get to come back after four years and say these things."

"Why not?"

"Because!" She whirls to face me, eyes bright with unshed tears."Because I finally built a life without you.Because I can't--" She swallows hard."I can't let myself believe you only to watch you walk away again."

Scout whines, pressing against her legs.I want to reach for her so badly my hands shake.

"I'm not walking away this time." I take a careful step forward."Unless you tell me to. Unless you can look me in the eyes and tell me you don't feel this too."

The sauce begins to bubble, filling the silence between us.Danny turns to stir it, but I catch the way she blinks rapidly.

"The pasta's ready," she says instead of answering.

I let her dodge the question, for now.We plate the food and carry it to the living room, settling on opposite ends of the couch.Scout sprawls between us.

Outside, rain continues to fall in steady sheets, creating a cozy barrier between us and the rest of the world.The Christmas lights reflect off the wet windows, casting dancing patterns across Danny's face as she twirls pasta around her fork, and I'm struck by how right this feels.How much I've missed these quiet moments.

"This is good," she admits grudgingly.

"High praise from the woman who once served me raw chicken."

"Oh my God, will you ever let that go?" But she's laughing now, really laughing, and the sound fills every empty space in my chest.

"Never." I grin at her. "It's one of my favorite memories."

"Your favorite memory is food poisoning?"

"My favorite memory is you trying so hard to cook for my birthday that you caught your sleeve on fire, and we ended up eating cold cereal on the floor at midnight."

Her eyes soften. "You said it was the best birthday you'd ever had."

"It was." I hold her gaze. "Everything was better with you."

For a moment, I see the future I threwaway.

The future I wantback.

"Danny," I start, but she stands abruptly, gathering our emptyplates.

"It's getting late," she says. "We should probably..."

"Stay." I catch her wrist gently. "Watch a Christmas movie with me. Like we used to."

She hesitates, and I can see the war behind hereyes.Finally, she sinks back onto the couch, though she keeps Scout firmly betweenus.

"One movie," she concedes. "But I'mpicking."

It's not forgiveness. It's not even close to what Iwant.But as she scrolls through options, occasionally glancing my way when she thinks I'm not looking, hope unfurls in mychest.