Carol
We get reckless. We meet in daylight now, behind his garage, in the diner parking lot, even once in the church lot where nobody looks twice at parked cars.
He brings me coffee. He doesn’t even know I hate the stuff.
I prefer cocoa. I bring him cookies I swear are for the club.
Lies taste like sugar if you roll them in enough guilt.
But it’s not like I’ve fucked the biker again. He’s not stuffed his big hands down my pants again either. Without as much as another kiss, he’s been a perfect gentleman.
I’m still with Blake, going through the motions of a dead-end relationship. I know I should end it, but something is stopping me.
At work, I catch myself smiling at nothing. Sugar Plum notices. “You got a secret?” she asks, winking.
“Just tired,” I say.
But I’m not tired. I feel more alive than I have in ages.
He texts: Need to see you.
I text back: When?
Now.
It’s the alley again, snow falling soft as forgiveness. He steps out of the shadows, eyes darker than the night.
“People are starting to talk,” I say, even as I go to him.
“They already do.”
He touches my cheek like he’s memorizing it. “Tell me to stop seeing you.”
“This is over, Humbug. Blake’s bound to find out.”
“I’ll tell him if you don’t want to.”
“No.”
His lips meet mine before I understand what’s happening. He kisses me slow, less fire than last time, more gravity. When he pulls away, his forehead rests against mine.
“This ain’t a game, Carol.”
“I know.”
“You’ll get burned.”
“Maybe I need to.”
He breathes a laugh, broken and tender all at once. “You don’t even know what kind of man I am.”
“I know enough,” I whisper. “You’re a biker.”
He brushes his thumb along my jaw, sighs. “I used to think I hated Christmas because it lied about love. But maybe I just didn’t know what love looked like till it hit me upside the head.”
I look up at the snow catching in his beard, and my heart makes a choice, my head’s too scared to follow.
I test the water. “Maybe I will tell Blake it’s over.”
“You know I’m going through a divorce,” he says, quick and clipped.
My eyes narrow. “What does that mean?”
“I’ve gotta be careful too.”
Careful? Does he want me to break things off with Blake or not? I don’t ask.
We part right away, because that’s our curse, night is safe, daylight tells on us. As I back into Sno-Globes, I catch myself humming again, soft and low, the same song that makes Humbug flinch.
The water I tested is freezing cold, deep and too dark at the bottom.