Chapter 14
WILLA
I haven’t had this much fun sneaking around since high school. Every chance Drew gets when I’m over at his house to pull me into a dark corner, he takes with no hesitation. It’s fun and exciting, which is what worries me. How can something that feels so natural and yet so fun, be sustainable?
Why am I even worrying about whether or not it’s sustainable?
In a few weeks my van will be fixed, and I’ll be back at the campground and in my normal routine with Maya.
Having a bigger space to live in the past month or so has spoiled me to the point of wondering whether I even want to go back to full-time van living.
Not to mention cooking in a full-size kitchen.
To top off all my conflicting feelings, I don’t even feel restricted by this change in life. Any other time I’ve been forced into one place, I’ve felt a gnawing restlessness grow inside me. This time? Nothing. Zilch. Nada.
What does it even mean? Is it because I enjoy Drew and Izzy so much that they dull the need to be able to run at a moment’s notice? Or am I just changing in general?
In any case it’s time to go next door and have our little Christmas party.
I’m in the red and white fair isle print pajamas that Izzy picked out for us to all wear.
She asked me to put her hair in dutch braids like mine, so I know that will be first on our agenda.
I grab the bag of cookie baking and decorating supplies and walk out the front door.
Izzy’s first to the front door, as usual. She looks absolutely adorable in her PJs. Drew takes the bag from me as she wraps herself around my waist in the tightest hug she could give.
“You ready to have a fun day, Izzy?” I run my hand over her silky, dark curls.
“Yes,” she squeals with excitement and releases me.
Drew and I watch her as she runs upstairs, disappearing down the hall. He takes the brief opportunity to pull me to him and kiss me senseless until the sound of footsteps upstairs break us apart.
“Christmas pajamas have never looked so sexy,” he says huskily as he steps back.
I could say the same thing for him. His pants match the print of Izzy’s and my pajamas, but he’s paired them with a white henley. The sleeves are rolled up just shy of his elbows, and the buttons at the neck are undone.
“Got my comb.” Izzy jumps from the third stair down to the floor and then sheepishly grins up at Drew. “Sorry, forgot I wasn’t supposed to jump.”
“I’ll let it go this time.”
“Let’s get your hair done, so we can start making the cookies.”
I sit down on the couch, and she settles at my feet.
She talks to me about her friends at school and the party they’re going to have.
I ask her about going to see Santa with her dad and what she wished for.
Even though I won’t be in town for Christmas, I’m still planning on getting both her and Drew a gift.
If I can figure out what to give him. He’s obviously got enough money to get himself anything he wants.
Drew sets a mug of hot chocolate topped with marshmallows on the coffee table for me.
His eyes move back and forth between his daughter and I with so much warmth and affection my hands momentarily still.
He loves seeing the two of us together doing things he struggles to do for Izzy.
I’ve sent him YouTube tutorials, but he still struggles with anything other than bubble braids.
But he tries, and that says so much about what a good man, what a good father, he is.
I take a sip of the hot chocolate after I finish the second dutch braid.
He added a dash of cinnamon, giving it a slightly spiced flavor.
Our eyes meet as he watches me lick a bit of foam from my lip.
His eyes darken when I give him a flirty wink knowing damn well he can’t do any of the things he’s thinking about.
It also becomes very clear as soon as I start teaching Izzy how to make sugar cookies that Drew is rather clueless when it comes to baking.
With how good he is at cooking, I would have thought that this would come more naturally to him.
The thing I love most about him, though, is that he’s always humble when it comes to learning a new skill.
I never would have thought he was a professional athlete when I was teaching him how to ski.
Not because he isn’t athletic as fuck, he clearly is, but because his attitude is so positive and down to earth.
Then again, that could be my own bias coming out. I’ve skied with professional skiers and snowboarders, and so many of them are pretentious as fuck. Maybe it’s because he played a team sport? Either way, it’s a wonderful and endearing quality.
Once the dough is rolled out and chilling in the refrigerator, we move on to decorating the Christmas tree.
With the vaulted ceiling in the living room, Drew was able to get a large tree.
Luckily, he and Noah already put it up, added lights, and watered it, so all we need to do is put up the ornaments.
The last thing I was expecting to find when he opened the box was to find dozens of homemade ornaments. Everything from macaroni angels to crocheted snowflakes. Each one has a memory attached to it. Both Izzy and I remain completely enraptured by the way he explains each one.
“Do you have a Christmas tree in your van?” Izzy asks as we stand around the tree and admire our work.
“No. There’s not much room, even for a small one. I do put up multi-colored lights along the inside, though. “I usually go home for the holidays, though. At least for Christmas Eve and Christmas day, so not having the decorations doesn’t affect me too much.”
“Nana and Pops are coming here for Christmas,” Izzy tells me. “They haven’t been to see us here yet, so we’re going to do all the fun stuff.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“Skiing,” she giggles. “Then ice skating.”
I meet Drew’s eyes, which crinkle with a smile. “I’m not sure they’ll be up for all that, but we’ll definitely find some fun stuff to do.”
“I bet the cookie dough has chilled long enough to cut out cookies now. Shall we go check?”
Drew turns on Christmas music while we let Izzy go to town making cut out cookies.
She giggles and laughs the entire time while she compares the dough to playdoh.
At one point she shows us how one of the boys in her class taught her to sculpt the poop emoji.
How a little kid knows what emojis are is beyond me, but I’m obviously not a parent.
It’s not like Drew and I didn’t bust up laughing at how good of a job she did making the shape.
While we wait for the cookies to bake, we set up the three premade gingerbread houses and organize the candy and icing.
We set a timer for half an hour, and whoever wins gets to pick dinner and the Christmas movie we’ll watch tonight.
My plan is to let Izzy win, but if she loses interest, I’m going to smoke Drew.
There’s no way I’m risking him picking a bad movie when we’ve already debated whether or not Die Hard is a Christmas movie.
It is not.
When the timer goes off, I look over at Drew’s creation, and all my worries cease. It’s the Charlie Brown Christmas Tree version of a gingerbread house. Candy pieces slide down the sides, and he somehow managed to crack one of the walls.
Mine isn’t much better, though. Creativity has never been my strong suit, unless we’re talking creative ways to plot a trail through the mountains.
Izzy’s house, on the other hand, looks incredible.
She used little candy pieces to line all the windows like lights.
There are gumdrops on the top of the roof.
She even used peppermints to make a chimney.
Somehow she had time to set up candy canes along the front of the house, lining the sidewalk to the door.
“That’s so good, Bug.” Drew looks over her head at me and mouths holy shit.
“I heard that. Ten dollars for the swear jar.”
“What? I didn’t swear.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Not out loud.”
Izzy sets her tube of icing down and looks at him. “A swear is a swear.” Then she looks over at me and shakes her head. “Boys.”
“Girl, yes.” I hold out my fist for her to bump. “They’re the worst. That’s why even my dog is a girl.” Maya lifts her head on cue. “What do you want for dinner?” I ask.
“Mac and cheese with brussels sprouts.”
“Coming right up.” Drew stands and kisses the top of her head.
I follow him into the kitchen. “What kind of magic did you work for her to like vegetables like that?”
“None. I don’t know if Crystal was good about offering a lot of different types of food or if Izzy just got used to eating the things my chef would prepare for me back in Chicago. Either way, I’m not complaining because I love veggies, too.”
“I completely agree. I’m not vegetarian, but most of what I make for myself in the van is plant based. It’s just easiest to make, especially in the winter when I don’t want to sit outside and grill.”
“I never even thought of that.” He sets a pot of water on the stove to heat. “The limitations that must come with your lifestyle.”
“Yeah. I’m not going to lie, staying next door has me starting to think about how nice it’d be to have an actual place to call home. You know, with walls and a full kitchen and space to move.”
“Really?” He looks up at me. “You’re thinking about giving up van life?”
“Considering it, especially when I start my company. I don’t see how I could run it from my van. I’ll need space to keep all my supplies and an office.” I shake my head, the thoughts feeling suddenly so real. “If I even end up going for it.”
“You should. I’ve heard you talk about it with such passion. And if no one is really out there doing it, planning trips for women by women like this, it’s a great service.”
I nod slowly. “I have a little more time before I need to let my boss know if I’m not coming back to guide for them.”
“You can stay next door as long as you want. I wanted to talk to you about th—”
“Can I have a snack?” Izzy asks, walking into the kitchen as if we’re not five minutes out from having dinner ready.
“No, dinner’s almost ready.” Drew sighs and shakes his head.
“But the cookies are already ready.”
I roll my lips inward to keep from laughing. “She’s got a point.”
He gives me an unimpressed look. “Really?”
“One cookie won’t hurt. It’s a party after all.”
“You better eat all your vegetables.”
Izzy nods and picks the biggest cookie available. “I will.”
The rest of the night goes by in a blur of giggles and popcorn, with the scent of the fire burning in the wood stove surrounding us.
I mean to continue our conversation after we each read Izzy a bedtime story and tuck her in for the night.
But Drew takes that opportunity to quietly pull me into his bedroom and give me the hottest, quietest, hardest fuck of my life.
When he finishes with me, my legs are shaking and my mind is jello.
If only there was time for me to recover and return the favor with the same voracity, but I have an early morning on the slopes tomorrow.
I reluctantly say goodnight with more kissing and stumble into my cold, empty, bed.