31. Lizzie
THIRTY-ONE
LIZZIE
My parents were hosting Christmas this year, and I arrived bright and early with bags of food and presents. I rang the doorbell and immediately pushed the door open, calling out a “Hello!” as I set my bags down in the foyer.
“In the kitchen!” my mother called back.
I kicked off my shoes and shed my jacket, then made my way toward her voice. I passed the living room along the way, where my dad and aunt were sitting beside the Christmas tree with glasses of eggnog in their hands. I greeted them with smiles and kisses, then headed on to the kitchen.
“Good, you’re early,” Mom said, wiping her forehead with the back of her wrist. “I’ve got the roast beef and ham prepped. You mind peeling potatoes while I work on a pie?”
“On it,” I replied, shoving some of the desserts and side dishes I’d prepped earlier into the fridge. I grabbed a dark-blue apron from the back of the pantry door, tied it around myself, and got to work.
“Have you spoken to the kids this morning?”
“Called them when I got up,” I replied. “Isaac got Hazel a new bike. Sparkly pink with streamers on the handles. She was over the moon. Zach showed off his new baseball mitt and a computer game he’d been asking for.”
Mom glanced over at me and smiled. “That’s nice.”
I nodded and forced my own lips to curl. I didn’t mention that when I’d hung up the phone, it had taken me a few minutes of deep breathing to ease the tightness in my chest. Missing these moments with my kids never got easier, but I had to remind myself that I got them most of the time. Their father had been a terrible husband, but he did love them. And June was as good a stepmother as I could hope for. It was just my selfish desire to hoard every moment, every holiday, every memory with my kids for myself. They deserved better.
Besides, wasn’t I trying to enjoy this time to myself? Wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to help anything.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here with us,” Mom said. “We’ll have a nice day, and then we spend a nice week until New Year’s when we celebrate with everyone together.”
“Exactly.” I focused on the potato in my hands, peeling its skin off in long strips. It wasn’t the first holiday I’d spend without my kids, and it wouldn’t be the last.
My mom went over to the old stereo in the corner of the kitchen and started up some Christmas music. I smiled at the old folk CD she’d been playing for decades and sang along as we cooked side by side. Every time the doorbell rang, my ears pricked.
Cousins arrived with their kids. Aunts and uncles came through the door. My brothers blew in with gusts of cool air.
Finally, in the early afternoon, the doorbell rang and wasn’t immediately followed by the sound of the newcomer’s voice. My heart skipped a beat, because I knew that the only person who wouldn’t let themselves in without hesitation was Sean.
Sure enough, a few moments later, I heard my father’s voice greeting him, followed by the familiar rumble of Sean’s response. My pulse rattled, and I was sure my cheeks were flushed. Grateful for the hot stove in front of me that could be used as an excuse, I kept my head down until I heard the familiar cadence of Sean’s footsteps on the tiles behind me.
“Sean!” Mom exclaimed. “Merry Christmas.”
“Same to you, Mrs. B.”
“You’re not a teen anymore, Sean. Will you call me Sandra?”
I glanced over my shoulder in time to see Sean grin. “Probably not. You’ll always be Mrs. B to me.”
Mom laughed, delighted, and wrapped him in a warm hug.
I put the lid on the gigantic vat of potatoes and turned, wiping my hands on my apron. Sean glanced up and met my gaze. Just a few hours ago, he’d been in my bed. He’d left so we could both get ready for dinner at my parents’ place, but the sight of him here and now reminded me that our naked bodies had been pressed together not too long ago.
“Merry Christmas,” I told him, and I smiled. I hesitated for a brief moment, then closed the distance between us, got on my tiptoes, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
Sean’s hand skimmed down my side and over my hip, sending wild flutters through my stomach. “Merry Christmas, Lizzie,” he said quietly in my ear. We’d already wished each other a happy holiday this morning as the sun came up, but I could feel my mother’s eyes on me and it would be weird not to say it to him again.
Pulling away, I cleared my throat. “How was your morning?”
As soon as the words left my lips, my cheeks flamed. Sean grinned. “My morning was great.”
I could sense my mom hovering beside us, so I took another step away from him and gave them both a bright smile. “Drink? Mom’s special eggnog? Or we have mulled wine, soda, water, beer…”
“Can’t say no to a bit of eggnog,” he said, eyes lingering on me for a moment before turning to my mom. She beamed at him and poured him a glass, and I busied myself cleaning up the counter where the potato peels had left starchy water splattered all over the granite.
Sean stayed long enough to compliment my mother on her eggnog, then made his way to the living room to greet the rest of the guests.
Mom was quiet for a few long moments, and I began to breathe easier. Maybe the tension between me and Sean hadn’t been as obvious as it had felt.
Then my mother said, “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Sean lately, haven’t you?”
I jumped. “What?”
She chopped a carrot and shrugged a shoulder. “How goes the search for that date to New Year’s? Just a week to go now.”
“He’s been on three dates,” I told her, which, strictly speaking, was the truth. “None of them worked out as far as I know.”
My mother glanced over at me, with those all-seeing eyes that used to strike fear into the very depth of my heart. I discovered, in that moment, that even at forty-one years old, her eyes still had that ability. All she said was, “I see. Tougher nut to crack than your usual matchmaking prospects, then?”
“I guess so,” I replied. “Everything seems to be under control here for a bit, huh? I’ll go say hi to everyone and see who needs a fresh drink.”
Mom nodded and took out a tray of hors d’oeuvres that had been warming in the oven. “Pass these around, and bring that veggie platter out while you’re at it.”
I did as she asked and scurried away from her penetrating gaze. The living room was full of chatter and laughter. The kids had disappeared into the den just around the corner, and I could hear the excited noises of the kids sharing what presents they’d opened this morning when they woke up. I passed around the platter of tiny samosas and mini quiches, greeting everyone and wishing them a happy holiday, and finally set the plate down on the coffee table and took a seat next to my dad.
Sean was seated across the room from me, and I couldn’t resist the pull of his gaze. His blue-green eyes seared into me across the space, and I did my best not to squirm where I sat. Even with what little time we’d spent together as an intimate couple, I could tell by the spark in his eyes and the tiny curl at the corner of his lips that he was thinking about things that had no business at a family holiday event.
And it was thrilling.
Here, in this house where I’d always just been little Lizzie, surrounded by people who saw me as a glorified babysitter and failed wife, there was one man who saw me as a woman. He saw me as someone interesting, captivating. He made me feel more beautiful and more precious than I’d ever felt before, and he did it with little more than a look.
Then my brother dropped into the seat beside him, and my dad nudged me with his shoulder, and I smiled at him as he curled his arm around my shoulders.
“How’s my favorite daughter today?”
“I’m good, Dad,” I replied, and was surprised to find I was telling the truth.
His arm tightened. “Not too sad about missing the day with the kids?”
I knew he was trying to connect with me. Knew he’d seen how in years past, I missed my kids like crazy on days like these. Usually, a comment like that would make me feel understood. Today, it made me feel like there was space between us that couldn’t quite be bridged. It was always Lizzie, mom of Hazel and Zach. It was never Lizzie, a person in her own right.
And, yes, fine, I wanted my kids around me at Christmas. And I’d be happier if I got every holiday, every birthday, every weekend, and every event.
But as the days passed and my family’s comments stacked up on top of each other, I realized that I also wanted to be seen for being me. A person with hobbies and a career and a life beyond just her kids.
I wanted what Sean gave me: a view of myself like I used to be before I sacrificed everything I was for the sake of my children.
I wanted to be Lizzie and a mother. Both—not one or the other.
“I don’t feel sad right now,” I finally replied, and smiled at him.
“Good,” he replied with a nod. My mom appeared at the edge of the living room with fresh drinks, and she beckoned me back into the kitchen to get back to work. I followed her and busied myself with the thousand and one tasks required to pull off a big meal, trying not to dwell on the shift in my identity that seemed to be happening within me with every minute that passed.
An hour later, when dinner was in good shape and everyone had fresh drinks, I realized I was desperate for the bathroom. I ducked to the downstairs powder room, which was past the den, tucked through the laundry room around the corner from the stairs. The sound of conversation was muffled at the back of the house, and I let out a deep breath as I tried the doorknob.
Locked.
Sighing, I leaned against the doorjamb leading out of the laundry room and stretched my neck from side to side. I wondered what my kids were up to, and how Sean was enjoying himself. I wondered just how long we’d have to dance around each other before we’d tell people we were seeing each other.
If he decided he wanted to take that leap with me.
My heart jumped at the thought. An illicit little affair had been thrilling, and he’d made me feel like I was worth so much more than I’d previously allowed myself to think, but to actually date each other, in the open…
That would mean he really wanted me. It would mean this wasn’t just about sex. It wasn’t just the excitement of doing something naughty, something that felt a little bit dangerous and wrong.
Once the holidays were over, I’d know if Sean really wanted me for me. If all those pretty words had meant something, and if these feelings mushrooming inside me were real.
Then the powder room door opened, and I lifted my gaze. Sean appeared in the doorway as I straightened, our eyes clashing across the laundry room.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi.”
I felt like a trapped, trembling little rabbit caught in a snare. My eyes darted down the hallway then back to the laundry room, and I found Sean prowling toward me. He stood on the other side of the doorway, eyes roaming over my face as a soft smile graced his lips.
“You look beautiful, Lizzie.”
“You’ve got to stop saying things like that to me,” I said, glancing over my shoulder to see if anyone was in the hallway behind me.
“I won’t.”
I gave him a flat look. “We shouldn’t even be talking to each other.”
“That’s a ridiculous statement,” he said, grinning. “Besides…” He lifted his finger and pointed directly up.
I followed the motion with my gaze, heart jumping at the little bundle of mistletoe hanging in the laundry room doorway. “Sean…”
He stepped toward me and wrapped an arm around my waist, tugging me close. Then I was pinned to the inside edge of the doorway, the length of my body pressed to the length of his. I let my hands settle on his chest and felt the rioting of his heart beneath his breastbone.
With one hand around my waist, Sean lifted the other to sweep back a sheet of my hair. He stroked my jaw with a calloused palm, his thumb stroking from the corner of my lips to the edge of my cheek.
“Merry Christmas, Lizzie,” he said. “You’ve made this year’s holiday season one of the best of my life.”
My throat was so tight I could barely swallow, and I blinked back moisture from my eyes. “You’ve made me feel like myself again,” I admitted.
“I’m glad we found each other,” he whispered—and he kissed me.
We’d spent entire nights in each other’s arms. We’d kissed countless times now, tenderly and passionately and roughly and everything in between. I’d seen him naked and partially clothed, and I’d explored every inch of his body with my hands and my mouth.
But this felt different. It felt like the ground swelling beneath my feet, like a seismic shift in the very depth of me. This man had crashed into my life, and he kissed me like he wanted to pick up the pieces with me and make something new together.
We weren’t supposed to be kissing here, like this, but the moment got away from me—from both of us. His grip on my jaw tightened as he deepened the kiss, tongue sliding against mine as he let out a soft moan. I lost myself in the feel of his strong body pressed against mine, the strength of him holding me, the way his hand on my waist stroked me through my shirt like he was wishing he could touch my skin.
My hands skimmed up his shirt and teased the stubble on the sides of his neck as I nibbled his upper lip. I loved the warmth of his skin, the hard press of his muscular frame against my much softer one. I loved the curve of his neck as he bent down to kiss me.
I loved the way he made me feel like I deserved all this and more. In that moment, I realized that I was falling in love with him.
As if he could sense the shift in my emotions, Sean’s grip on me tightened. He deepened the kiss and held me so close all that existed were the points of contact between our bodies. His hands on my face, and my hands on his. His chest against my chest. His legs trapping mine.
I loved him. I loved how he made me feel. I loved how he touched me, how he kissed me, how he made love to me. I loved how he treated my children, and I loved watching him parent his son. I loved how he saw me.
That one kiss under the mistletoe was like pulling the curtains on a darkened room to find a blazingly bright sunny day beyond. Suddenly, I could see every dusty detail of the life I’d been living—and all the ways he could make it better.
I loved him. I was in love with him. Desperately, foolishly, in love.
Then I heard my brother’s voice say, “What the fuck?” and all the heat and magic and love inside me turned to ice.