Chapter 12 Ellie
Ellie
I’m scared to open my eyes. If I do, will all of the last twenty-four hours be a dream? Will I wake up tucked in my bed, all alone on Christmas day? Pinching my eyes shut harder, I pretend the sun isn’t up, welcoming me.
Outside, there are voices. People are already moving about.
Next to my ear, a soft snore that could only belong to one man, paired with a strong arm draped around my front.
Less fearful, I open my eyes and turn my head. A handsome man takes up his half of the bed, and a little bit of mine as he sleeps. With his face buried in my hair, he looks so content. Peaceful.
I feel bad that I’m going to have to wake him up if I want to take advantage of getting an early start for the day.
I can hear people singing carols outside, the sound of bells ringing. Christmas. Hell to the yes.
Charles groans as I move to sit up. As nice and warm as he is, cool air nips at my bare legs and feet as I leave the bed. Moving over to the window, I peer out.
There’s just the right amount of snow to celebrate today.
“Ellie…” Sleep makes his voice raspy, making my insides warm.
Looking behind me, I realize he’s squinting, still exhausted. Not my fault, he spent a lot of last night touching my body, stroking my limbs like he wouldn’t get another opportunity to.
“Good morning!” Far more awake, excitement bubbles up in my chest.
Wincing in return, he shoves his face into my pillow and groans.
“I get to sleep in two times a year…” He groans as he reaches out for me, hoping I’ll come to my senses as he curls his hand.
Fetching jeans from my luggage, I yank them up my hips. “Complimentary breakfast.”
After how much energy he seeped from my body the night before, I need to refuel, especially if we’re going to spend the holiday together.
I’m still struggling to believe it’s really happening.
“You can sleep in if you want, but free is free.” Digging around for a new shirt, I hear his movement behind me. “You’ve got to be hungry, too.”
As soon as the words leave my lips, I feel his hands. Before I can even laugh, he’s tugging me back so he can collect my body in his arms. My heart flutters as his mouth tickles my throat. He’s already got stubble growing in. “Is this feast free?”
Already feeling where one of his hands is moving, I find the strength to pull away from him before I melt. I can’t throw away today by being devoured on that bed again. Meeting his frown with a laugh, I help ease the sharp downward curve by pulling off my shirt.
He stares, hardly to my surprise. His pajama pants don’t even try to conceal the way his body reacts, and I try not to stare back. “I’ll buy you whatever you want in this state and get it delivered for breakfast if you give me just an hour of your time.”
My smile grows as I throw a sweater over my head. “No. Get dressed or I’m going without you.”
He curses, clearly too used to getting his way. Doing as I ask, we make our way down.
The grumpy inn owner is nowhere in sight, but he’s got a feast waiting for us to eat as we please. We must be early risers because there aren’t any signs of life around.
Once we’re settled at a table with eggs, toast, and far too many flapjacks, I’m barely containing my excitement. I’m on freaking cloud nine.
I want to know what’s going to happen after the holiday, but I feel like I’ll be popping my happy bubble if I try to find the answer.
If I’m lucky, and I pretend the outside world doesn’t exist, we can just stay stuck here forever. Call it a fairytale.
Is Charles thinking about it? Or is he pretending like me?
Shoving more food into my mouth to drown out the thoughts, I’m left feeling far too full by the end of the meal. Trading one suffering for another, I groan as I move back to my feet.
“Everything is going to be closed, it’s Christmas. What are you so eager for?” Tilting his head, he watches me, trying to figure me out like I’m a puzzle to be solved.
Already knowing the answer, heat crawls up my throat at the words needing to be said. “I just… Well, I get to hang out with you. Isn’t that enough?”
His expression sobers up instantly, and he moves to stand. “You’re right. Tell me, what do you want to do first?”
“I want to see what all the excitement is about going on outside. They’ve got to be setting up for something out there.” Already zipping up my coat, I catch the softness to his gaze while he watches me.
Something like this? This could be real.
Maybe some Christmas magic can make him see it, too.
Holding my hand out to him, I’m glad when he joins me. Despite having gloves tucked in my pocket, I don’t bother to grab them. Not when I can steal away all of his warmth.
* * *
Turns out, all the chatter happening outside was the start of a glorious event.
The moment we step out of the warm, woodsmoke-scented inn and into the bright, cold morning, the world transforms. A Christmas parade is in full, glorious swing. Floats draped in evergreen and glitter glide past like moving mountains of magic.
A team of high-school trumpeters plays a brassy, joyful tune that vibrates right through the soles of my boots, and the air is thick with the scent of roasted nuts and hot chocolate.
Snow falls in lazy, fat flakes, catching the light of a thousand bulbs.
Even though the sun is up, the lights are breathtaking—strings of white and gold twined around lampposts, brilliant reds and greens blazing from the floats, all reflected a million times in the delicate crystals settling on every surface.
Everyone is smiling, everyone is happy. Children perch on shoulders, waving little flags, their laughter ringing like bells over the music.
Through it all, all I can focus on is his hand in mine.
My heart is pounding, keeping perfect time with the music. It’s not from the cold or the spectacle. It’s from him.
I can feel the weight of his gaze, his stare so obvious. He isn’t watching the marching Santas or the giant, inflatable snowman bobbing past. He’s watching me. I can feel it in the way his fingers tighten around mine, a silent, steady pressure amidst the chaotic joy.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, I tear my eyes from a float carrying a choir singing Silent Night. I turn my head, and our eyes meet. Returning his stare with one of my own, my cheeks grow pink behind my coat flaps.
The parade becomes a blur of color and sound at the edges of my vision. Charles is just… looking at me. His eyes, usually so guarded and amused, are wide open, filled with a quiet, devastating intensity.
The soft morning light catches the snow dusting his dark hair, and in that moment, he looks like part of the magic, not just an observer of it.
I swallow, my throat tight. I just need to rip off the band-aid already. The longer I push this, the worse the heartbreak will be if this is just a one-off kind of thing.
“Charles,” I start, my breath a white cloud in the cold air. I squeeze his hand, our fingers tangled with my trembling grip. “After this… after the holiday… what’s going to happen with us?”
The words hang there, suspended in the frozen air.
The fear is a cold knot in my stomach, colder than the snow, making me afraid of the answer.
But I need to know. I hold his gaze, my heart laid bare, waiting for the answer that will either make this a beginning or the most beautiful ending I’ll ever have.