Chapter 26 Warren #2
"Yeah." My hands tighten on the wheel. "Two bedrooms, set up for the season. I had the owner stock the fridge and turn the heat on."
"A Christmas sleepover?" Beckett perks up, suddenly wide awake. "With the trees and everything?"
I nod, pulse hammering as I look at Janie. "Yep. We'll head back first thing tomorrow. We can do hot cocoa and watch a Christmas movie to get us ready to decorate our trees tomorrow."
"Yay!" Beckett bounces in his car seat. "I want to pick out my room!"
Inside, the cabin exceeds even my expectations. String lights hang from exposed beams, casting warm pools of light across pine floors. A small tabletop tree sits decorated on the coffee table. The fireplace is stocked with wood and kindling, ready to be started.
"This is amazing!" Beckett races from room to room, discovering a basket of paper, scissors, and string on the dining table. "Look! We can make more decorations!"
Janie brushes her fingers against mine when Beckett isn't looking. "You thought of everything."
"I ordered pizza. Should be here in twenty minutes."
We fall into an easy rhythm of pizza on the floor in front of the fire, mugs of cocoa topped with whipped cream, and Charlie Brown's Christmas playing on the small TV.
Beckett works furiously on paper garlands, his tongue stuck out in concentration.
Janie laughs at something on screen, her shoulders relaxed, guard down. When her knee rests against mine, neither of us pulls away.
For these few hours, we're just a family in a bubble. No complicated past, no uncertain future, no worry that Blake might pop in. Just the three of us, warm and safe together.
By eight, Beckett's eyes grow heavy. I carry him to the smaller bedroom, tucking the blankets around him while Janie brushes her teeth in the bathroom.
"Night, buddy," I whisper, allowing myself to brush the hair from his forehead.
"Night, Warren." His eyes flutter closed. "Best day ever."
I linger, memorizing the sight of him, my son, peaceful and trusting. Tomorrow we'll go back to reality, but tonight, this moment, I'm storing away forever.
I close Beckett's door with a soft click and stand in the hallway a moment, replaying the words.
When I return to the living room, Janie sits on the sofa, firelight dancing across her face. She's turned out the lamps, leaving only the Christmas lights and flames casting a golden glow.
"He's out," I whisper, lowering myself beside her.
"He crashed hard. So much excitement." Her smile is soft, unguarded. "This place is magical, Warren. This was a great idea."
I stretch my legs toward the fire. "I remember coming here with my grandfather. Just once, when I was eight. My parents were in Europe, and he owned a lot of land around here, so he knew about it."
"Just once?"
"Carter family Christmases weren't exactly warm and fuzzy. More like strategic appearances at charity galas."
She pulls her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. "As you know, my family didn't have much growing up, but Mom always made it special. Homemade ornaments, cookies from scratch. Blake would string popcorn while Dad read 'The Night Before Christmas.'"
"I remember. The year I lived with you guys..." I swallow hard. "That was the first real Christmas I ever had. I loved it."
Janie's fingers find mine in the space between us. "You're part of those memories too, you know. Making that awful eggnog nobody would drink."
"Hey, I followed the recipe."
"You put in triple the rum!"
"Blake dared me!"
Her laughter fills the room, genuine and warm. When it fades, a different kind of silence settles. It's not awkward, but full of something unspoken that neither of us dares to summon.
"Warren," she whispers, her face half-shadows, half-light. "Thank you for today."
I reach up, tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "It was amazing. Thank you."
The first kiss is hesitant, a question. The second answers with certainty.
I pull her closer until she’s straddling my lap, her body warm and insistent against mine. My hands slide under her sweater, palms memorizing soft skin as her kiss deepens, hungrier now.
We stumble to the second bedroom, closing the door quietly behind us. Nothing frantic this time. No rushed desperation. I undress her slowly, savoring the hitch of her breath when my mouth trails along her collarbone.
“Ow!” I jerk back when something sharp digs into my foot.
Janie covers her mouth, laughter spilling out. “Oh, my God.” She retrieves a small glass ornament from the floor. “Casualties of Christmas decorating.”
“Thank God that wasn’t in the bed. Could’ve been a casualty of something else.”
Her smile lingers for a beat, then fades into something hungrier. She backs up until her legs hit the mattress and crooks her finger. “Come here.”
I do. My mouth claims hers, deeper this time, her laugh dissolving into a whimper. She tugs at my shirt, sliding her hands up my chest as I strip it off. Her sweater goes next, then her bra.
I take a second to stare. Christmas lights from outside around the house flicker against bare skin.
Her legs tighten around me, desperate. I pause just long enough to grab my wallet, tearing open the foil with my teeth. She watches me, eyes dark, chest heaving. The second it’s on, she pulls me back down. I push into her in one slow, relentless thrust, every inch stealing my breath.
“Warren…” My name breaks out of her, half-plea, half-curse.
I thrust again, harder, her body arching to meet mine. Her fingers sink into my skin, her thighs clamping tighter as the rhythm builds. I bury my face in her neck, swallowing her moan, biting back my own.
And even as I lose myself in her heat, the thought slams through me: this can’t last. We can’t keep stealing weekends, hiding in borrowed rooms while the world waits outside. Every thrust pulls me closer to her, but closer to the edge of the lie we’re living.
I drive harder, chasing the sound of her whimpers, needing her to drown out the voice in my head that says we’re only buying time.
I can bury myself in her, but I can’t bury the truth. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to give her all of me.