Chapter 4 Snow Globe Kiss
Snow Globe Kiss
Enrick
She’s kissing me.
Desiree is kissing me, and every circuit in my brain shorts out except the ones screaming finally, finally, finally.
Her lips are soft and demanding, her tongue sliding against mine like she’s trying to reclaim something she lost. Or maybe punish me for making her want this. Either way, I’m here for it. My hands tighten on her waist, pulling her fully against me until she’s straddling my lap in the hot water.
Around us, fat snowflakes drift down, melting instantly in the steam rising from the water. String lights wrapped around the deck railing cast red and green reflections on the churning surface. It’s like kissing her inside a snow globe.
Fuck.
This is better than my memory. Better than the dreams that have haunted me for six years. She tastes like hot chocolate and peppermint, and when she rocks against me, I groan into her mouth.
“Dez—”
“Don’t talk,” she breathes against my lips. “Don’t make me think about why this is a bad idea.”
I should be noble and slow things down. Make sure she really wants this. Instead, I slide my hands up her back, finding the tie of her bikini top.
“Enrick!” Gina’s voice carries from the intercom. “Kids want to know if you’re doing s’mores!”
Desiree jerks back as if she’s been electrocuted, scrambling off my lap so fast she creates a tidal wave. “Oh my God.”
“Dez, wait—”
But she’s already climbing out of the hot tub, grabbing her robe and donning it quickly. “That didn’t happen.”
“Pretty sure it did.” I run a hand through my wet hair, trying to calm my racing heart. Among other things. “And I’m pretty sure we need to do it again.”
“No.” She backs toward the door, clutching the towel tighter. “That was just... temporary insanity. Storm-induced madness. Too much proximity and—”
“Bullshit.”
She freezes at my harsh tone. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I stand, not bothering to hide how affected I am. Her eyes drop to my erection, then snap back up. “That was six years of unfinished business demanding attention.”
“We have no unfinished business.”
“We have a whole dissertation’s worth of unfinished business.” I step out of the hot tub, and she takes another step back. “But if you want to keep running, go ahead. I’ll be waiting at the finish line when you’re ready to stop.”
She glares at me, then spins on her heel and practically runs inside. I sink onto the edge of the hot tub, letting the cold air shock some sense back into me.
What the hell am I doing? I promised myself I’d take this slow, give her time to trust me. Instead, I’m pushing her, challenging her, daring her to give in to what’s between us.
Holy hell, I can’t stop replaying the way she kissed me. Like she was drowning, and I was air. Like she’d been starving for it as long as I have.
“Uncle?” Penny pokes her head out. “You coming? The boys are about to set something on fire. Like, literally. Asher found matches.”
“Jesus.” I grab my towel and follow her inside, mentally shifting gears. “Where’s your dad?”
“He and Mom are doing their taxes in their bedroom.”
Right. Taxes in December.
There’s no way they’re doing taxes. They’re probably doing what I want to do with Desiree.
The rest of the evening is an exercise in torture. Desiree reappears in fleece pajama pants covered in candy canes and an oversized sweater with a bedazzled reindeer on it. She sits as far from me as possible, near the s’mores station next to the Christmas tree.
The colored lights reflect in her eyes when she laughs at Bella’s marshmallow catching fire.
“It’s supposed to be golden!” Bella wails.
“I like mine crispy,” Asher announces, waving his flaming marshmallow like a torch.
“That’s called burned, buddy,” Desiree says, but she’s smiling as she helps Bella try again.
She won’t meet my eyes, focusing all her attention on helping Bella roast the perfect marshmallow.
When I shift closer under the pretense of getting graham crackers, she immediately stands to refill the hot chocolate pot.
When I compliment Bella’s perfectly toasted marshmallow, Desiree suddenly needs to help Gina in the kitchen.
By the time the s’mores supplies are demolished and Gina herds the sugar-high children toward their bedrooms, I haven’t managed to exchange a single word with Desiree.
“Mommy, will you tuck me in?” Bella asks sleepily, chocolate still smeared on her cheek.
“Of course, baby.” Desiree guides her toward the bathroom. A minute later, Bella returns, face washed and teeth brushed.
“I want you too, Daddy. Both of you together!”
Desiree’s smile becomes strained. “I’m sure Daddy has—”
“Lead the way, princess,” I say, cutting off whatever excuse Desiree was about to make.
Bella’s room is pure princess—canopy bed, pink walls, and a miniature Christmas tree twinkling in the corner, draped with ornaments she’d hung earlier.
She climbs into the canopy bed and slides on her pink bonnet before patting both sides. “Mommy here, Daddy there.”
We sandwich our daughter between us. This is what I want. Not just the heat and passion—though God knows I want that too—but this kind of intimacy. Reading stories together. Kissing our baby goodnight. Being partners in all the small moments that make up a life.
“Tell me a princess story,” Bella demands.
“Once upon a time,” I begin, “there was a prince who went to a Christmas ball.”
“Was he rich?” Bella asks.
“Very rich. But also very lonely. He went to the ball feeling bored, wishing he was anywhere else. The ballroom was decorated with a thousand white lights and a Christmas tree that touched the ceiling, but none of it felt magical. Then he saw her.”
“The princess?”
“The most beautiful princess in the world.” My voice softens. “She wore a red dress that sparkled like Christmas ornaments, and when she laughed, it sounded like silver bells.”
“Like jingle bells?” Bella asks, more awake now.
“Exactly like jingle bells.”
“What happened next?” Bella yawns, snuggling deeper into her blankets.
“The prince asked her to dance,” Desiree continues, surprising me. “And even though the princess was scared—because she wasn’t really a princess, just a regular girl pretending—she said yes.”
“They danced under the Christmas lights,” I add, watching Desiree over Bella’s head. “All night long, while the music played, and the tree sparkled.”
“And then they got married?” Bella asks hopefully.
I glance at Desiree, who’s looking everywhere except at me. “Not right away. They had to go on adventures first.”
“What kind of ‘ventures?”
“The princess had to go somewhere far away,” I say carefully. “And the prince... the prince had to learn some important lessons.”
“Like what?” Bella yawns.
“Like how to be brave. And kind. And patient.” I stroke her hair gently. “Very, very patient.”
“That’s boring,” Bella mumbles, her eyes drooping. “I like the dancing part better.”
“Me too, princess.” I keep my voice soft, watching her fight sleep. “But the best part of the story is that after all their adventures, they found each other again on Christmas during a big snowstorm.”
“Like now...”
“Just like now.”
Her breathing evens out before I can say anything else, and we watch her sleep. Our daughter. The best thing to come from the best night of my life.
She has Desiree’s mouth and my chin. A perfect blend of us .
Every other weekend, every other holiday—it’s never enough. Never enough time to memorize all the small changes, the ways she’s growing.
Last Christmas Bella was with Desiree, and when I got her back in January, she’d learned two new songs I’d never heard. Lost a tooth I didn’t know was loose. Grown a quarter inch I couldn’t account for.
The custody agreement made sense on paper. Fair. Equitable. But fair doesn’t stop the ache when Patricia drives off with her, knowing it’ll be weeks before I see her again.
“I should go,” Desiree whispers.
I follow her out, closing the door softly behind us. In the hallway, she turns to face me.
“That was cruel,” she says. “Telling her that story.”
“It was true.”
She wraps her arms around herself. “What are we doing, Enrick? What’s the endgame here?”
“You know what I want.”
“No, I don’t.” Frustration bleeds into her voice. “You say pretty words and make me feel things I don’t want to feel, but what happens when the storm clears? When I go back to Atlanta?”
“You want to know what I see?” I step closer, and she backs up until she’s pressed against the wall next to a garland-wrapped banister.
“I see my ring on your finger. Your clothes in my closet. Waking up next to you every Christmas morning. I see us raising Bella together, maybe giving her a sibling or two. A lifetime of hot chocolate and tree decorating and arguing about whether Die Hard counts as a Christmas movie.”
Her breath catches.
“I know it’s crazy. I know we’ve only had a day and a half together and it’s too soon.” I run a hand through my hair. “But you asked for the endgame, and that’s it. That’s what I want. Even if I have to wait years for you to trust me enough to want it too.”
I’m so far over my head I can’t even see the surface anymore.
“You’re insane.”
“Is it insane to want what we could have?”
“Yes!” The words explode out of her. “I can’t risk everything on a man who thinks I’m after his money.” Her voice cracks. “You called me a gold-digging whore, Enrick. I called to tell you I was pregnant, and you just... screamed at me.”
The pain in her voice guts me. Whore. I called her that.
Holy hell, I can still hear my own voice spitting that poison, and the way she went completely silent on the other end of the line. That terrible, awful silence before she hung up.
“I’m sorry, Desiree. You didn’t deserve that. I didn’t mean it.”
“Then why say it? Why say those awful things?”
“Because I was terrified.” I take a step closer, and she doesn’t move away.
“Penny’s mother used Maverick for years.
Weaponized their kid, bled him emotionally and financially.
When you told me you were pregnant, all I could see was history repeating itself with me, and I was scared out of my mind.
Hurting you was easier than trusting you. ”
“Understanding why you hurt me doesn’t erase my pain.
” Her voice shakes, but she holds her ground.
“It doesn’t change what you did. When things got complicated, your first instinct was to destroy me.
I was terrified too, Enrick. I’d spent the most incredible night of my life with a stranger, and then I was pregnant and alone and—”
She breaks off.
The image of Desiree alone in some apartment, staring at a positive pregnancy test slams into me. No partner to hold her hand. No father for her baby except one who’d called her a whore. Nine months of doctors’ appointments and kicks and midnight cravings, all by herself.
It makes me physically ill whenever I think about it.
“So yes, I understand being scared. I understand lashing out.” She presses her palms flat against my chest, but doesn’t push me away.
“But what happens the next time you’re scared?
The next time something unexpected happens between us?
” Her fingers curl into my shirt. “How do I know you won’t turn on me again? ”
I cup her face. “You don’t. I can’t give you a guarantee, Dez. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect or that I’ll never fuck up again.” I stroke my thumb across her cheekbone. “What I can tell you is that I’m more scared of losing you again than I am of anything else.”
“Enrick—”
“Let me finish.” My forehead drops to hers. “You want to know what terrifies me? It’s not commitment or responsibility or even being a father. I’ve done that for five years, and I’d die for that little girl.”
My voice drops to a whisper.
“What scares me is losing you forever because of what I said.” My hands slide through her braids. “I can’t undo it, Dez. I can’t rewind to that phone call or the months and years that followed. I can only prove myself a better man now.”
“Daddy?”
We spring apart like guilty teenagers. Isa stands in the hallway, rubbing her eyes with tiny fists, her unicorn pajamas wrinkled from sleep.
“Hey, sweetheart.” I clear my throat, trying to shake off the intensity of the moment. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m thirsty.” She lifts her arms, and I scoop her up automatically. She burrows into my chest, still half-asleep.
“Uncle will get you water, yeah?”
I glance back at Desiree, silently communicating that the conversation is paused, not over. But she’s already backing away.
“Goodnight, Enrick,” she whispers.
It sounds too final.
By the time I get Isa settled with her water—and read her two more pages of her favorite book because she suddenly wasn’t sleepy anymore—and return to the hallway, Desiree’s room is dark. The sliver of space beneath her door shows no light, no movement, no sign of life.
I stand there like an idiot, staring at that closed door.
My hand lifts of its own accord, knuckles hovering an inch from the wood. I could knock. I should knock and demand she let me in so we can finish what we started, but pushing her may cause more harm than good.
I lower my hand and force myself back to my room. The door closes behind me, and I don’t bother turning on the lights. Just stand there in the darkness, trying to calm the frustration thrumming under my skin.
My room shares a wall with hers.
I move to it without thinking, pressing my palm flat against the cool surface. On the other side of this wall, she’s probably lying in bed, maybe staring at the ceiling the same way I will be in a minute. Maybe thinking about me. Maybe trying not to think about me.
I wish I could tear this wall down. Tear down all the walls between us—the physical ones and the ones built from hurt and fear and six years of missed chances.