Chapter 19 #2
“Hi,” I say back, bringing my hand to cup his face, running my thumb across the rough stubble.
His lips find mine, and what starts as a sweet “see you later” quickly deepens into the kind of kiss that’s a prelude to something more.
“How rude,” I say, coming up for air. He gives me one of his sultry looks that instantly makes my panties damp, and I go in for another kiss. What am I thinking, even considering walking away from this man?
I’m about to swing my legs around his waist when a car honks, reminding me that it’s daylight and his windows are not tinted.
I groan, reluctantly peeling myself away.
“Have a good day, love,” Jonny says.
That final word is still echoing in my mind as I walk into the bookstore. He started out calling me darlin’, with that country-boy swagger and wink, like he was playing a part. Fun, flirty, easy to brush off. But love…
I shake my head. He doesn’t mean it like that, of course.
In fact, he probably says it to every woman he sleeps with.
It will do me good to remember that this was never meant to be something serious.
It was always supposed to be a fun challenge and a way to make the time go by faster—an opportunity to try on a different side of myself.
For all I know, it was the same for him. A fun distraction with the one woman in Azalea who didn’t know the Jonny McKay he used to be. I can’t forget that.
Six hours later, my feet hurt, my back aches, and my heart is heavy.
And not just because of Jonny and these confusing feelings I’m having for him.
All day, I couldn’t stop thinking about Miguel and so many other people I’ve gotten the chance to know at the bookshop.
The teenagers who came in asking for books featuring kids who look like them or share some aspect of their identity.
The group of older ladies who started purchasing and reading a new book each week to discuss together.
The countless people who came in to buy books for Christmas gifts and just for themselves.
To me, books have always been a source of entertainment or escape. Sure, I would sometimes read a book or a memoir to learn about a new experience, but I never really thought about how a book could actually open up someone’s world.
Jonny was trying to tell me as much the other night when he talked about how much having a bookstore has meant to this community.
The reason it was so important to him that the market have one this year.
He knew it wasn’t just a place to buy books, and I can’t believe it took me so long to see it myself.
Suddenly, the saddest thing about my leaving Azalea isn’t what I’m personally going to lose, but what this town and all its new readers will suddenly be without.
“You’re a million miles away,” Jonny says as I climb into his truck after closing.
I shrug, feeling my eyes start to water. “It’s just starting to hit me, how much I’m going to miss this place.”
He pauses. “You know, you don’t have to—”
My phone rings with a FaceTime call.
Jonny and I both look to see Maya’s face lighting up my phone screen.
“Go ahead,” he says, shifting the truck into drive.
I glance between him and the phone, knowing the girls are probably together, calling to wish me a happy last night of Hanukkah before they light the candles, eat latkes, and open gifts.
“I don’t mind,” Jonny says, so I tap to answer the call before it drops off.
“Happy Hanukkah!” The chorus of my best friends’ voices brings tears to my eyes. As much as I’ve loved being here in Azalea with Jonny, I really have missed them.
“Where are you?” Maya asks.
“OMG, are you with your Texas hottie?” Naomi chimes in.
“Let us say hi,” Talia begs.
I glance over at Jonny, who seems game and more than a little pleased at the nickname. I shift the camera so they can see us, and the two of us can see all three of them.
“Happy Hanukkah, y’all,” Jonny says, dialing up the Texas drawl.
Naomi gasps. “You didn’t tell us he had an accent.”
“Such a panty dropper,” Talia says, fanning herself.
“Guys,” I warn, but they’re having too much fun with this.
“Now I understand why we’ve barely heard from you this week,” Maya says.
“At least she finally got some,” Naomi says.
“Seriously,” Talia agrees. “But dude, you should not have made our girl wait so long. You practically gave her blue balls!”
“Seriously,” Maya agrees. “A vibrator can only get a girl by for so long.”
My cheeks flush. I might have held a few details back if I’d had the foresight to expect this awkward conversation.
“It’s okay,” Naomi says. “It sounds like he was worth the wait.”
“Never underestimate the power of a little Vitamin D,” Maya adds.
“Or a big one,” Talia quips.
The girls cackle, cracking themselves up.
“Okay,” I say, bringing the camera back toward me. “I’ll see you guys in a few days—and don’t forget, we’re having a double header this year.”
There’s a chorus of “Can’t wait!” “Love you!” and “Miss you!” before I hang up.
“Please don’t judge me by my friends,” I say.
“Never,” Jonny says, giving me a quick kiss. “I mean, you didn’t judge me by my family.”
I laugh. “But your family is sweet and nice, like you.”
“And your friends are charming and funny, like you.”
We get out of the truck, and he follows behind me as I unlock the door to the cottage.
“Do you think your friends are right?” he says quietly. “Was I an idiot to make us wait so long? We could have had so much more time.”
I turn to face him; his expression is almost wistful. Suddenly, I want him to know that I don’t regret a single thing about our time together.
“But the anticipation,” I remind him. “That made it better, right?”
He gives a soft smile. “With you, there’s only better.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” I say, kissing him. “But there’s only better with you, too.”
After we eat dinner, Jonny does the dishes while I put the candles in the menorah. He stands beside me, his arm wrapped around my waist as I strike the match.
I inhale the smell of sulfur as the flame bursts to life. I hold it to the shamash and take a moment to appreciate the magnitude of this miracle and how much sharing the holiday with Jonny has meant to me before I light the candles and say the prayer.
“Happy Hanukkah, Shira,” Jonny says, and I’m filled with a sturdy warmth, but also a sadness, knowing that if I’d just been honest earlier, I could have had him here with me every night. Then there would have been no reason for me to cry or to lie.
“Happy Hanukkah, Jonny,” I say, turning so we’re face to face.
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Thanks for letting me in to experience all this with you.”
“Thank you for wanting to experience it with me.” I slip my arms around his neck and look at him, this man who is so much more than I ever expected or even knew I wanted.
“Come here,” I say, pulling him down to my level.
His eyes flutter shut, and I kiss his eyelids, grateful for the way he managed to change the way I see so many things, including myself.
I kiss the dimples on his cheeks, first the left, then the right, appreciating the way he’s made me smile and laugh until my sides ache.
I turn my attention to his ears, gently nibbling on his lobes. The way this man listens and actually hears me, not just what I’m saying but why I’m saying it. He’s really unlike anyone I’ve ever met.
And finally, I press my lips to his—the source of so much conversation, and so much pleasure. I deepen the kiss, hoping we can pick up where we left off this morning when he so rudely got me all worked up before work.
“Wait,” Jonny says. “I have something for you first.”
“Uh oh,” I say. “I told you no gifts.”
“Okay.” He goes in for another kiss. “I can return it.”
“Don’t you dare,” I say, pulling back so he can run out to his truck.
Jonny lets himself back in a moment later, holding a gift the size of a Kleenex box, wrapped with blue paper and a white bow.
“Happy last night of Hanukkah, Shira,” he says.
I sigh and take the box, unwrapping it slowly, the way it deserves to be opened. I untie the bow, then wrap the ribbon around my wrist like a corsage. The paper goes next, one corner at a time, revealing a plain, white box.
Jonny looks excited, almost impatient for me to open it, so I don’t hesitate before popping the lid open.
I suck in a breath, staring. If the town menorah was the most extravagant gift I’ve ever received, this is the most beautiful.
“It’s a snow globe,” he says as I lift it from the box. “Custom-made.”
“It’s incredible,” I say, bringing it up to eye level.
The scene inside is an artistic representation of one I’d recognize anywhere.
A couple is standing in the center who look remarkably like us—he’s wearing jeans, boots, and a jacket that looks like a Carhartt, and she’s got wavy brown hair, wearing jeans, a sweater, and even a tiny gold Jewish star around her neck.
They’re—we’re—embracing in front of a small shop that says “The Book Nook” on the front.
Inside the store, I can see not only books, but a Christmas tree and a menorah. And when I turn the snow globe upside down, little snowflakes rain down, just like they did on the night of the Christmas tree lighting.
“We can’t pause time,” Jonny says, “but I wanted to find a way to freeze these few weeks we’ve had together.”
My vision blurs, and I wipe the tears from my eyes, looking up from this perfect gift to the thoughtful man who gave it to me. “I’d say you shouldn’t have, but I am so glad you did.”
And with that, I launch myself into his arms and start kissing his face, saying, “Now take me back to my room so you can unwrap your gift, Jonny McKay.”