Chapter 6 #2
But Grant leans in, shooting a look to Blake as if he’s doing him a favor. “If you ever decide to move to Pine City, I just sold a bakery to an elderly couple, investors. They're hoping to find someone to run it. I could put in a good word since you have experience.”
“Not in bakeries.”
“They’re looking for a people person which you definitely are to handle all those tourists.”
“Thank you,” I say, smiling at Grant, and I raise my chin a bit higher.
The conversation quickly shifts back to wedding planning, to champagne colors, extravagant menus and honeymoons in Europe. Blake smiles like he belongs in this room. I don’t. I never did.
Halfway through dessert, I excuse myself. The bathroom mirror catches me under bright light, my lipstick faded, eyes shadowed. I look like a woman who doesn’t know which life she’s living anymore.
Blake knocks softly. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I say automatically.
He leans in the doorway, sleeves rolled, tie loosened. “They like you, you know.”
I huff out a laugh. “Sure, they do.”
He regards me for a long moment. “You seem different.”
“Do I?”
“Yeah.” He studies my face. “More… restless. You’re always so cheerful. Not today.”
Maybe he can sense the guilt. Perhaps I still reek of smoke and the biker jizz oozing from me. I drop my gaze to the floor.
“I guess I’m still shaken up,” I say.
“Shaken or stirred?” he tries. He reaches for me, but I step back.
“Blake, I’m tired. Can we please go?”
He nods, but his face shows his disappointment. It’s like I kicked his puppy. He nearly pouts. “Of course. But we’ll miss opening presents.”
Is that all it is? “Seriously, I need to go home.”
“I’ll make our excuses.”
When we leave with our unopened gifts, the twins hug me like they’re sealing something off. “Merry Christmas,” Brittany says, more cheerful than usual.
Probably glad I’m leaving.
“Don’t get lost in your little winter wonderland,” Blair adds, laughing.
Too late, I think.
Outside, the cold slaps my face clean. Snowflakes catch in my hair, the city lights turning them gold. Blake walks ahead, talking about next year, next step, next promotion. I let him.
Because all I can think about is a biker back in Evervale, older, rougher, wrong in every way, who made me feel alive in a way this polished world never could.
Blake opens the door for me and presses a warm kiss against my forehead. He steps back, his face going through a range of emotions. He wants to say something. I can see him weighing it in his head.
“I love you, Carol,” he says finally.
“I love you, too,” I lie.
“Merry Christmas.”
Nodding, I drop inside the car, guilt eating me alive. Resting against plush leather, I pretend to sleep on the ride home.
My apartment’s dark when we step inside, just the glow of the tree blinking lazy colors across the floor. I kick off my heels, my feet aching, my smile long gone somewhere between dessert and the twins’ perfect engagement stories.
Blake sets a small wrapped box on the coffee table. “Don’t you even want to open your present?”
“Not tonight.” I hang up my coat, still smelling like his mother’s perfume and chocolate mint pie. “I just need to breathe.”
He frowns and pockets my gift. “You’ve been quiet since dinner. My family isn’t that bad.”
“They’re fine,” I say, sinking onto the couch. “I’m just tired.”
“Tired, or mad?”
“Neither. Shaken.” I rub my temples. “The robbery. It’s just, still in my head.”
Sighing, he sits beside me, close but not touching. “Then I’ll stay. You shouldn’t be alone after that.”
“You didn’t plan on staying? It’s Christmas.”
“I just told you about my possible promotion.”
I don’t tell him I didn’t listen to a word of it.
Then Blake’s hand lands on my thigh, creeping up until he grabs my pussy.
Inhaling sharp, I push his hand away like it’s fire.
Ignoring my reaction, he unzips his pants. “I could use something to take the edge off.” His dick is out before I can protest.
I stare at his cock like it’s something foreign as he grabs the back of my neck.
“You’ve not given me a present. How about a blow job?”
“Blake. Not tonight,” I say, firmly, pulling away.
Huffing, he stuffs his erection away. “I have to go in early.”
“Yeah, and I want to be alone, so it all works out.”
“But aren’t you scared?”
“No, you have work tomorrow, and I’m fine. I just need to rest.”
“Carol…” His voice softens like we’re halfway to an argument. “You don’t have to push me away every time something happens.”
I look at the tree instead of him. The lights blink red-green-red, like a heartbeat pretending to be festive. “I just need one night without anyone talking, touching, fixing things. Please.” I don’t know if that’s a lie or truer than anything I’ve ever said to him.
Blake exhales through his nose, the sound of a man swallowing pride. “Fine. I’ll go.”
“Thank you.”
He stands, gazes at me for a long second like he’s searching for the girl who used to chase him. “Merry Christmas, Carol.”
When the door shuts behind him, I whisper it back, too late, to an empty room. The lights blink once more before the timer clicks off, and the silence feels earned.
I hum under my breath, the same tune that slipped out in the dark hours before morning. “O Holy Night.”
The sound of it makes my chest ache.
Because no matter how wrong it was, no matter how hard I try to forget, I can still feel Humbug’s whiskey-soaked breath against my skin, whispering my name like it meant something.