Chapter 10 Henri #2
I’ve never had a typical Christmas, full of family bonding and bickering.
I swung from two extremes. Walking into a home with a tree professionally done up without having to lift a finger, and then working through every holiday.
Mom still made those special with movies and a few useful gifts like socks or fabric for me to practice sewing with, but we were too tired and broke to do much.
Now that I typically go home with people for the holidays, I step into their lives for a moment, getting glimpses of what I never had.
It’s always so tempting to get swept up in the homemade ornaments and slightly burnt cookies, but I know the closer I get the more it will hurt when I walk away, to be left out in the cold once more.
Does it make me a fool for wanting it anyway?
“It's no problem. I always make extra room on my schedule for when we meet up.”
“Because I’m long-winded and traffic is terrible?” I muse.
“Because I like spending time with you, Henri.” His expression softens and something in me threatens to melt. He’s so blunt and upfront that no matter how hard I try to come up with an alternative meaning to his words, I can’t.
“Well, I like spending time with you, Liam. But that might just be the money I’m making off you. Money makes everyone more tolerable.” Usually, that’s true. This time, the money has nothing to do with it. But damn it’s nice to have it as an excuse.
I expect my humor to crack his sincere expression, but it remains firmly in place.
He takes my hand. A laugh bubbles up out of my throat as he pulls me back through the store with fierce determination. “Come on. We’re going to that market.”
“I like living on the edge, walking out here with a hardened criminal,” I tease as Liam and I walk side by side through the lanes of the market.
The green tin roofs of the stalls are trimmed with garland and lights.
The aroma of cinnamon and rich spice wafting from those with fresh baked goods.
Glittering ornaments and decorations catch my attention every few steps and I have to remind myself to keep moving so as to not cause a traffic jam.
“Say it louder why don’t you,” Liam mutters. His cheeks are nipped pink with cold but grow a shade darker at my remark. “It was an accident and I paid in the end.”
“But only after that poor bookseller chased you down the stairs.”
It really was a great moment. Mostly, because I wasn’t the one being chastised for trying to steal a book that cost less than five dollars. In his eagerness to leave, both Liam and I forgot about the book clutched in his arm and were stopped by the shop attendant.
“Don’t blame me for being in a rush. I had somewhere important to be,” he says and the sentiment causes my chest to warm.
I swallow hard and ask, “Where should we go first?”
His gaze wanders for a moment before he starts walking toward a stall with colorful thick knit hats and scarves.
We each inspect the goods, fingers rubbing the soft cozy yarn.
A hat would be nice. I keep meaning to get one, but I usually use part of my scarf to wrap my head.
I wish I could justify buying something.
Even though Spitfire has agreed to my fee, I’m still stressed about money.
I’m not sure I’ll ever not be stressed about money, even if I have thousands tucked away. After the trauma of experiencing such a sudden, unforgiving change in circumstances once, I think there will always be a corner of my mind bracing for it to happen again. But at least I can window shop.
“I wish I could make a bed of this stuff and lay in it forever,” I say. Though when I turn Liam is already checking out, his purchase is tucked into a stamped brown paper bag.
“What’d you get?” I ask as he walks over.
In answer, he pulls out the hat the same color as my coat and pulls it onto my head, causing my short hair to flip out around my ears.
I yelp, tearing it off and almost send it to the ground to be trampled. Instead, I leap up and attempt to put it on Liam, but he catches my wrists, holding me in place so my body is pressed against his. Even through my layers, my atoms seem to vibrate—on high alert.
Heat swells in my belly. Danger. Danger. Danger.
“Take the hat, Henri,” he orders and fuck me it’s kind of hot.
“It’s too expensive. I saw the prices in that store.”
“It’s a gift.” His hands slide up to work the cap from my grip. The scrape of his fingers against my palms sends a shiver through me and he must feel it because he says, “You’re cold, and the tips of your ears always seem like they’re on the verge of getting frostbite and falling off.”
“I do like having my ears.” Arguably the most intelligent response I could make.
“Of course you do, smart girl.” This time he lightly pulls the hat over my head, smoothing my hair. “When you’re done with me, you’ll have something to remember me by. You’ll be running out the door to class, and when you grab your favorite hat, you’ll think of me keeping you warm.”
“My favorite hat?”
“It has to be your favorite if it’s your only one.”
I know that even if I had a hundred hats, it would still be my favorite.
A phone rings and Liam pulls away, patting at his pockets until he retrieves his phone. “Hey.”
“The daddy kink Santa chair is late.” Jasmine’s frantic voice is loud enough that I can hear her clearly, even if I have no idea what she’s talking about.
And so can a family walking by who give us nasty looks.
Which is fair. I personally wouldn’t want to explain that specific sequence of words to a curious child.
Liam flushes. The more I get to know him, the more I like watching his face, how he displays exactly how he feels without bottling it up. I never feel like I need to be scared of him hiding things from me. “Umm, could you say that again, but actually tell me what’s going on?”
He and I step to the side and out of the way, brushing up against a cluster of trees with branches weighed down by ornate ornaments and snow.
I stand close enough that I can continue to listen to Jasmine.
“The chair for the Sexy Santa shoot was originally delayed by three days, so it was supposed to be here now for the shoot this afternoon. But I just got the update from the antique guy I’m loaning it from and he said there’s a snowstorm, so who knows when it will be here, and the shoot is in an hour. ”
“What type of chair do you need exactly?” I ask and Liam tilts the phone to pick up my voice.
“Something old timey, throne like? Santa overlooking his domain in a broody yet sexy sternness. The more gold and red velvet the better. Please tell me your connections to the wealthy and hopelessly single can do something for me.”
“I think I have someone I can ask.”