9. Carmen
9
Carmen
The warmth from my hot chocolate pales in comparison to the lingering heat of Donny’s touch. His fingers have left an invisible imprint on my skin, a phantom sensation that refuses to fade. I shiver, and it’s not from the cold. The memory of his body close to mine during ice skating replays in my mind, a dangerous loop I can’t seem to break.
That’s why I had to put as much distance as possible between the two of us. It was clear that he had never been ice skating before from the way his legs wobbled when he first stepped onto the ice. Although I was a good distance away from him, I could still see the terror in his eyes as he almost lost his balance.
Now, though, there was nothing but calmness in his features that I’m so used to seeing with the band. He’s quiet, observing our surroundings as the sun disappears further into the horizon, and I stare at him far longer than necessary—long enough that I have to dart my attention away when he gazes back at me.
We’ve spent most of the day together and have yet to talk about the topic at hand—ending our charade. It makes me think that he doesn’t want to end it, and I hate the warmth that spreads through me from the thought.
Don’t be an idiot, I say to myself, it’s just the hot chocolate.
But even as I try to convince myself, I know it’s a lie. This feeling, this warmth, it’s all Donny. And that terrifies me more than any business challenge I’ve ever faced.
“Our chariot awaits,” Donny says, a mischievous glint in his eye as he nods toward the approaching SUV. As the driver pulls up, Donny steps forward, opening the door with a flourish. “After you, Sunshine.” His voice is low, almost intimate, and I feel my cheeks heat despite the cold.
I ignore the nickname, even though it’s starting to wear on me, and slip into the back seat. At least he’s taking me home now, where I can hopefully get the sensation of his body close to mine out of my damn head.
Donny leans forward when he gets inside, telling the driver where to go next, but I don’t pay them any attention as I stare out at the busy streets ahead of us. Before today, it had been years since the last time I felt free on the ice, and it was like being back in that same space again. Like no time had passed at all.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Donny asks.
“Nothing really. We have some things to discuss, don’t we?”
He frowns and nods curtly. Once again, I have the strange sense that he doesn’t want our charade to end, but I push the thought back and clear my throat. I keep my tone casual, but it’s forced. "So, how do you want to play this? Who’s going to be the bad guy in the situation?" As I say the words, my chest tightens.
Why does the idea of ending this—of going back to normal—leave a hollow ache behind?
There’s no logical reason either of us would split after just announcing an engagement unless someone did something terribly wrong. It’s just a matter of who that wrongdoing is going to fall on.
Donny shifts in his seat, eyes flicking between the window and the back of the driver’s head. His hand still resting on my thigh as if he’s forgotten it’s there. I should push it away, create some distance before things spiral further, but I don’t. Instead, I wait, feeling the weight of what neither of us is saying.
Finally, he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "I’ll take the heat," he says quietly, and though it’s the practical choice, the words still carry a sting.
“Cheating bastard or past baggage?” I ask, arching a brow.
I’m their manager, and I think it would be a lot easier to spin the story if it were baggage from his past, but I’m leaving the choice up to him.
Before he can answer, the SUV comes to a stop at the edge of the bridge leaving the city, and I straighten my posture with a frown. “Where the hell are we going?”
Donny shrugs. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see, Sunshine.”
“Seriously,” I grumble. “I need to get back to my place. There’s a lot that still needs to be handled for the concert.”
He rolls his eyes and glances briefly at me, looking bored. “One day away from work isn’t going to kill you.”
I clench my fist at my sides and lean forward, desperately trying to get the driver to turn around, but he barely bats an eyelash in my direction. Donny is the pilot of this thing, which means I’m stuck with him as long as he damn well pleases.
Unless …
Just as my fingers brush the door handle, Donny’s hand lands on my thigh. The touch is gentle, but it might as well be a bolt of lightning for how it freezes me in place.
He gives a soft squeeze, and I swear I can feel the heat of his palm through my jeans. “Calm down. It’s only a little further, and you’ll be back home in no time.”
“I never agreed to this.”
He shrugs. “You never disagreed either.”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure I said no when you first showed up at my apartment.”
His lip twitches with a smile, and he sighs heavily. “You’re right, but after this, you won’t have to worry about me dropping in unannounced and stealing you away.”
Reluctantly, I drop my hand from the handle and glare at the traffic ahead as we slowly ease forward. I silently stew for the rest of the ride until we pull into a quaint, snow-dusted town on the city’s outskirts, where twinkling fairy lights cascade from every rooftop and storefront window.
The streets are lined with bustling holiday markets, the scent of pine and cinnamon hanging in the crisp air. Children dart through the cobblestone streets, their laughter blending with the distant sound of carolers singing. It feels like stepping into a Christmas postcard, and despite myself, I can’t help but be charmed.
“What is this place?”
Donny’s frame brushes against mine as he mimics my movements, and he smiles thoughtfully. “Thought we could have the full Christmas experience.”
My grip on the hot chocolate tightens, knuckles white against the cup. A splash of liquid escapes, landing on my clothes, but I barely notice. My heart’s racing, a mix of anticipation and dread. “No, thanks,” I manage to say, but my voice lacks conviction.
“Well, looks like you might have to deal with it anyway,” he says as our driver pulls behind a car waiting in line.
There're thousands of Christmas lights surrounding us, kids running gleefully along the grass as they clap at each of the displays, and I smile at them before quickly concealing the emotion. I’m not going to let him see that I’ve been enjoying myself. It will only drive him to do more and I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it.
But as I take in the twinkling lights and the joyful faces around us, I feel my resolve weakening. This is the kind of magic I’ve been missing, the kind of experience I’ve denied myself in pursuit of my career. And Donny, damn him, seems to know exactly what I need.
“We can get out here,” Donny says to the driver before opening his door and holding his hand out for me to take.
I stare at his outstretched hand, caught in a moment of indecision. My mind screams to keep my distance, but my traitorous body has other ideas. As my fingers slide into Donny’s, a jolt of warmth travels up my arm, radiating from the firm pressure of his hand. His palm is rough, yet comforting, grounding me in the moment as the cold air nips at my exposed skin. My body tingles with the contact, heart thudding in sync with footsteps on the frosty pavement. Donny’s hold is firm, warm, grounding. I should break free, but I can’t bring myself to let go.
He stares at me for a moment, unblinking, but a horn honking behind us has him shaking from the moment and carefully helping me out of the car. Even when we’re standing in the middle of the line, which is moving achingly slowly, Donny keeps his hand in mine and threads our fingers together.
This goes against everything I stand for as his manager, but the deeper part of me is what has me squeezing his hand and letting him lead me between the cars to the entrance. The attendant at the window eyes us curiously, then he does a double-take as he gets a closer look at Donny and quickly rushes to give us our tickets.
As we start through the entrance, a few kids rush in front of us with giggles and I watch them with a small smile. It’s a quick reaction, one that I should’ve known would come eventually, but I hate that it’s coming when I’m with Donny.
This is what I want, eventually.
I want the kids running around, playfully happy with each other, while me and their dad follow behind them with smiles on our faces.
With the way my love life is going, I highly doubt that’s in the cards for me anytime soon.
“Oh,” Donny says, tugging on my hand and pulling me from my wayward thoughts. “Let’s check this out.”
There’s a large section of the space with what looks like a western-looking diner, which is where Donny pulls us, and a few different exhibits for kids to enjoy. It doesn’t surprise me when I see a cluster of kids burst out of the building across the gravel road, eyes bouncing excitedly at each other’s treats, but I don’t get much longer to watch them before I’m being pulled through the diner doors.
“We’ll eat, then enjoy ourselves. Sound good, Sunshine?”
“I’d like it better if we ate and figured out how to handle this ,” I mutter, gesturing between the two of us.
As if realizing he’s still holding my hand, Donny drops it and takes a couple of steps away from me with a frown while running a hand through his blonde curls. My eyes zero in on the movement, and I wonder what it would feel like if I were to slip my fingers between the strands.
I bet they’d be smooth. This thought leads me to another, more dangerous one, about tugging at the strands while he tries to coax me to release.
“Hi, welcome to—” The hostess’s cheerful greeting cuts off abruptly as her eyes land on Donny. Her jaw drops slightly, and I can almost see the star-struck recognition dawning in her widening eyes. “Oh my God, you’re Donny from Raising Havoc!”
Her voice, now pitched higher with excitement, draws a few curious glances from nearby diners. Donny offers a polite smile, the one I’ve seen him use countless times with fans.
“We’d appreciate some discretion,” he whispers, his charm on full display.
The hostess nods, her cheeks flushing. “Of course, of course!” She turns to me then, her smile dimming just a fraction as she seems to remember I exist. “Table for two?”
I do my best to push aside the flicker of irritation at her blatant infatuation with Donny. This is the last kind of attention we need right now. My mouth twitches, tempted to smirk, but I hold it in check as she guides us to a table in the center of the dining room. Donny pulls out a chair for me, nodding politely to the hostess before settling across from me with a faint smile.
I’ll give him this right now, but there’s no way I’m ending tonight without going over what our next move will be. I can’t be this close to him much longer, aside from the mandatory rehearsals with the band and any other meetings.
***
The shrill ring of my phone jolts me awake, shattering the lingering warmth of a dream I can’t quite remember. Groaning, I fumble for the device, squinting at the bright screen. My heart leaps into my throat as I see my mother’s name flashing. So much for a peaceful morning.
Her call is like a bucket of cold water being dumped on me, and I eagerly jump out of bed while simultaneously swiping my finger along the screen. “Mom, hi,” I say breathlessly into the line.
“Carmen, sweetie, how is everything going with that concert of yours?”
“About as well as expected,” I mumble, then press the phone between my shoulder and while I start a cup of coffee for myself. “Is everything okay?”
“I was just calling to talk about the Christmas trip, making sure you remembered it was happening earlier this year.”
Right, the annual Christmas vacation we took as a family each year, and just another reason for everyone to bring up the fact that I’m once again spending it alone. I roll my eyes and force a smile onto my face. “Of course, mom, I wouldn’t miss it.”
“You’re going to bring that fiancé of yours, I assume?” There’s a tone in her voice that catches me off-guard and I blink a few times. “Didn’t expect to find out about my daughter’s love life through my children, you know?”
I shudder at the thought and sigh heavily. “Mom, I didn’t mean to hurt you… I just wanted to keep him all to myself.”
What the hell am I doing?
This is not what I meant when I talked to Donny last night about our charade. We’re supposed to put it behind us, start fresh and go back to normal.
“Make sure you bring him so the rest of us can meet him,” my mother says, ignoring my apology. I don’t blame her for being hurt and I know it’s going to take a lot of groveling when I meet them at the cabins we’ve got booked for a few days.
“I will.”
It’s only fair that Donny makes himself useful in this charade, right?
“We’ll see you soon, sweetie. Love you.”
As I hang up, a wave of guilt washes over me. Not even the aroma of fresh coffee can cut through the bitter taste in my mouth. I’ve lied to my mother, dragged Donny further into this charade, and for what? To avoid admitting that I’m alone? Or to avoid admitting that I don’t want to be?
I stare at my reflection in the window, a stranger looking back at me. The carefully constructed walls I’ve built around my life are crumbling, and instead of frantically trying to rebuild them, I find myself wondering what lies beyond.
This trip isn’t just a family obligation anymore—it’s a crossroads.
And for the first time in years, I’m not sure which path I want to take.