Chapter 21
Saturday, December 15
As my eyes fluttered open, I stretched my legs, reveling in the comfort of Marco’s bed. His sheets smelled of my favorite orange blossom laundry detergent, and I inhaled deeply. The light seeping in through a small gap in the deep blue curtains did little to illuminate the room, but when I noticed the alarm clock on the sleek bedside table, I saw it was 7:48 a.m.
A smile spread across my face as I recalled last night, my body thrumming from the memory of Marco’s touch. His hands and mouth had felt like velvet as they’d explored every part of me, and when he’d whispered my name as he’d gone over the edge the first time, he’d taken me right with him.
I’d only ever slept with one other person, and in the decade I’d spent with Oliver, I thought we had a decent sex life. But being with Marco…that had been something else entirely. Never in my life had I felt so desired, and now that I’d had a taste of it, I wanted more.
“Good morning,” I heard him whisper, and I smiled as he draped an arm over my side. “I hope you slept well.”
“Very much so,” I replied as I rolled over to face him, laying my head on his chest and snuggling closer. “You?”
“Me, too,” he whispered. “Me, too.”
I listened to his breathing slow, and before long, mine did the same. When I woke up again an hour later, I pushed myself onto my elbow, craned my neck, and listened, hearing the whirring of a kitchen fan in the background. The scent of something sweet and sugary hit my nostrils, and my stomach growled in response.
I headed to Marco’s en suite bathroom, which was about the size of my own, with elegant white subway tiles and a large, glass-encased shower. Once I’d located a brand-new toothbrush in the neatly stocked mirrored cabinet, I brushed my teeth and removed the smudges of mascara from my cheeks.
After returning to the bedroom, I grabbed a V-neck shirt from a chair and pulled it on, the soft turquoise cotton falling to the middle of my thighs. Once dressed, I looked around. Marco’s bedroom had been painted in a light cream, and apart from the built-in closet, chair, bed, and beside table, it only had an additional chest of drawers. The walls held a collection of paintings, most of them featuring pencil-sketched mountains and lakes.
When a smaller, framed photograph caught my eye, I picked it up. Given their resemblance, I decided the teenagers had to be Marco and Syd sitting in front of a gigantic Christmas tree with gifts in their laps, beaming at the camera.
After setting the photo down, I opened the bedroom door and peered out. The kitchen, dining, and living room area was largely open plan, with a big blue sofa, table and chairs, white walls, exposed brick, and the Christmas tree Marco must’ve picked up at the market glowing in the far-left corner.
The place was as neat and tidy as his bedroom, with more artwork, a large flat-screen TV, and a shelf that held at least a dozen cookbooks, some by Jerrelle Guy, Jamie Oliver, and Gordon Ramsay, all names I recognized.
Marco stood in the kitchen by the stove, his back turned. The bar on the white granite island, which I’d barely noticed last night, was set with plates, silverware, and glasses of orange juice. Small pine branches decorated with strands of green tinsel had been delicately placed on top of crisp white linen napkins, and Marco’s attention to detail and thoughtfulness made me smile.
I watched him work, his deep red fitted T-shirt showing off the muscles in his back making another frisson of desire zap through me as I remembered pulling him closer and deeper last night. Unable to delay touching him any longer, I walked over and slid my arms around his waist, resting my head between his shoulder blades. “Hey, you.”
In one swift movement, Marco took the pan of what had to be the most delicious-smelling vanilla and coconut French toast off the burner and turned around. “Good morning, Swiss Miss,” he said, the intensity in his eyes and the soft smile on his lips making that wave of longing slam into me once more. As he gently put a finger under my chin and tilted my head upward, I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my mouth against his.
Within seconds things intensified, becoming more raw, more urgent. One moment later, I yanked his shirt over his head, and as he picked me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist, we both decided breakfast could wait.
—
I was still in Marco’s arms an hour later, my head on his shoulder, the duvet all the way up to my chin. As he ran his fingers down my arm, he said, “You okay?”
Rolling onto my side, I propped my head up with one hand. “More than.”
“No regrets?”
I shook my head. “Not a single one. You?”
“Definitely not,” Marco replied before taking a breath and letting out a deep, contented sigh. “Can I tell you something?”
“Always.”
“It’s been a long, long time since I felt this way. Wanting to spend time with someone I’m really attracted to but who’s also a friend. It’s…almost as if I’ve known you forever.” He paused and looked at me. “How bad was that on the intense and creepy scale?”
I grinned at him. “A zero. Because that’s how I feel about you.”
Another moment of silence passed, both of us sitting with our thoughts and each other’s words for a moment, simply happy to be . As my gaze drifted up to his, I asked, “Do you have any plans today?”
“Vince and I have a couple of gigs we need to finish prepping for, including a fortieth birthday party. It’s going to be a long day. How about you?”
“I’m not sure. It’s a calendar treat day, so it should be easy.”
“I wish we could stay here all weekend,” Marco murmured. “Maybe if a miracle happens and Vince and I are done early, we can see each other tonight.”
“I’d love to.” I didn’t want to leave our snuggly cocoon, but if I went now and Marco got to work, it could mean we’d spend the night together. It seemed like a fair trade. “I’d better let you get to it.”
“Another twenty minutes won’t matter…” Marco said with an irresistible grin.
I looked at him, walked two fingers across his chest, and replied, “How about we make everything wait a little bit longer than that?”
—
A while later we were up and dressed, had eaten breakfast, and had cleaned up the kitchen. After another kiss, I was outside, and despite the cool breeze nipping at my face, I practically floated home when I replayed last night and this morning in my mind.
Fallbrook seemed prettier than ever before, almost glowing—just like my heart was on the inside. As I walked down the street, the rational side of me whispered to be careful. That falling into bed with Marco when we’d only known each other a couple of weeks might not have been the best idea, particularly considering how confused I’d been only days ago.
Still…Everything felt so right, so easy last night. I’d never been particularly vocal in bed, but I hadn’t shied away from telling and showing Marco what I enjoyed. I’d read about sexual awakenings before, and as I continued floating down the street to my apartment, I knew I’d experienced one of my own. It was a revelation, as if my eyes had been opened wide to everything I’d been missing out on.
As soon as I opened the apartment’s front door, Dazey leaped off the sofa and padded to me, purring. I bent over and rubbed her soft ears, wondering if she was hungry. Her reply came in the form of a nibble on my fingers, so once she was fed, and I’d filled a glass of water for myself, I headed to the living room.
Although I wanted to open my Advent calendar treat, there was something more pressing to take care of. Joe and I had exchanged contact details on Wednesday night, and I dialed his number, hoping it wouldn’t go to voicemail. If it did, I’d lose my nerve.
“Callie,” he said when he answered. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. Work’s been ridiculous with one emergency call after the other, but it’s so great to hear from you. I was hoping we could see each other again.”
“Uhm…well, there’s something we need to talk about first.” I grimaced. “It’s, uh, it’s about our kiss.”
“Ah…” Joe said. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”
“No, you didn’t, not at all. You’re such great company but—” This was excruciatingly awkward, but I had to press on. “I…I have feelings for someone else.”
Joe went quiet for a moment. “I appreciate you being honest. Really, it means a lot that you’d call to tell me and not fire off a message or ghost me.”
“Of course. Kindness matters.”
“Agreed. I hope we can still be friends. I meant what I said: I had a great time at Game On. You’re good company, and I need another shot at defeating the air hockey queen.”
“It’s a deal,” I said with a laugh, relieved by his reaction and happy knowing I had another friend in Fallbrook after all. “Perhaps we can arrange something when Anita’s back from Pineville.”
“I’d love to. It’ll give me time to practice.”
After wishing each other a merry Christmas and ending the call, I flicked through my emails, saw a rejection letter had already come in from one of the companies I’d applied to. Refusing to let it drag me down, I turned my attention back to my Advent calendar.
The dwindling pile had ten boxes left, and I knew I’d be sad when I opened the last one. Now that Anita had revived the tradition, I wanted us to continue. Maybe we could take turns, and I’d surprise her with my own iteration next December. Thankfully, I had almost a full year to come up with something special.
I picked up the package marked with the silver number fifteen and tore into the wrapping paper. It felt like there was something more substantial inside this treat box, and I wondered what it could be when I spotted another note from Anita stuck to the outside.
Be a Grinch.
Seriously. Get it out of your system. There’s even a recipe. Don’t forget the ice!
I grinned when I saw another note stuck underneath the first with the words Grinch Cocktail and a list of ingredients, including Midori liqueur, rum, lemon lime soda, and maraschino cherries. Anita had added an asterisk and the annotation, You’ll find everything in my closet. Now open the box.
When I did as she instructed and peered inside, I laughed out loud. Anita hadn’t only given me a recipe for a green cocktail, but also a plastic mask of the legendary Grinch, complete with a sewn-on Santa hat. Just like the box of childhood ornaments, I recognized this Halloween mask, which was usually stashed away in our hallway closet.
It was early afternoon—I wasn’t quite ready for a boozy cocktail—so I decided to put the gifts aside and focus on sorting through more of Dessert Dudes’ paperwork. An hour later I needed to stretch my legs and headed to the grocery store for food. As I was trying to decide which whole-wheat pasta to buy, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, and almost let it go to voicemail, but something inside me changed my mind.
“Hi, Callie,” a woman said after I answered. “This is Daniella Featherston, owner of EcoTalent. Is now a good time?”
“Daniella.” I tried to keep my voice calm as I set my grocery basket down. “Hello.”
“Apologies for calling on a Saturday. I’m trying to get organized, and running a start-up means working all hours.” She laughed, sounding friendly, warm, and approachable. “You applied for the VP of finance and administration role with us, and I was hoping to schedule an interview.”
“Really?” Now I was really fighting to keep my composure. “I’d love to meet you.”
“Great. It’s a bit of a squeeze with the holidays coming up, but are you free Thursday, January third, say at five p.m.?”
“Yes, that’s perfect. I can’t wait.”
“Wonderful. Well, I won’t take up more of your weekend time. I’ll send you a confirmation with the details and the address. Can’t wait to meet you. Happy holidays until then.”
“Likewise,” I said. “I’ll see you in January.”
I fist-bumped the air as soon as I hung up, garnering an odd look from the store clerk. My immediate instinct was to share my news with Anita, but my call went to voicemail, so I left a message asking her to call me. Unable to rein in my need to tell someone about this fabulous development, I wondered if I should surprise Marco at Dessert Dudes instead of phoning him.
He was only a couple of blocks away from the grocery store, and while I didn’t want to appear needy, perhaps we could sneak a quick coffee together. Maybe I’d meet Vince and offer them my assistance with prep or cleanup this afternoon so Marco could finish early, allowing us to spend the night together.
Decision made, I headed to Central Kitchen, where Walter immediately greeted me as I walked in. “Welcome back, Callie.” He shook my hand, his face in another of his delighted smiles. “Are you here to sign up for one of our cooking sessions?”
“I’d love to, soon. For now, I’m here for Marco.”
“First floor.” Walter gestured with his thumb. “Go on up.”
After thanking him, I headed to the staircase, my heart beating faster with every step. It’d only been a few hours since Marco and I had seen each other, but the excitement made my stomach feel as if I’d swallowed half a dozen flittering hummingbirds.
Another few steps, and as I got to the landing, I heard Marco’s voice, but judging by his tone, he wasn’t happy. “I don’t understand why you’re making a big deal out of this, Vince,” he said, sounding frustrated. “Callie’s a great person.”
I stopped moving. They were talking about me . Had Marco told Vince we’d been together? Why was it any of Vince’s business, and why would he have a problem with it, anyway? I crept another two feet forward while staying to the side of the door, out of sight.
“You barely know her.” A deep voice—Vince’s presumably. “I can’t wrap my head around why you’d give her our information so readily.”
“Because she offered to help with the bookkeeping.”
“I said I’d do it,” Vince shot back.
“You haven’t had time, and we’re in a mess,” Marco said. “I thought you’d be pleased to get this off your plate. I trust Callie. I already told you she gave me two references, and they had nothing but glowing praise. She’s amazing.”
“For all you know they were friends of hers,” Vince snapped, and I raised my eyebrows. “Faking these things is easy enough.”
What was his deal? I could understand why he might have a problem with me seeing the company’s financial details, but accusing me of making up fake references seemed unjustifiably harsh.
“I’m not comfortable with this,” Vince continued. “You shouldn’t have given her our paperwork without talking to me first.”
“I tried a few times, remember?” Marco said. “You weren’t exactly receptive, so I took matters into my own hands. The IRS penalties—”
“I can pay for those out of my own pocket,” Vince replied, his voice terse enough to make me jump. “We’re partners—”
“Yes.” Marco paused a few beats. “And while I’ve never pulled rank, you know the company’s a seventy-thirty split, and my folks put cash into the business. I need the bookkeeping caught up on and done.”
“This isn’t sitting well with me,” Vince said. “I don’t appreciate the unilateral approach.”
Marco sighed. “You’re right. I should’ve made a point to talk to you properly, but Vince, we can’t wait. This stuff needs to get done, like yesterday. Let’s forget about this for now and focus on the key limes. We’re running behind as it is.”
As Vince argued again that he was perfectly capable of looking after things, part of me wanted to go in and defend myself, meet him, and explain that he could trust me with Dessert Dudes’ finances.
Then again, I’d stood here eavesdropping on a private conversation, and I certainly didn’t want to get in the middle of their argument, complicating both their friendship and business relationship at the same time. I quietly turned around and backtracked, slipping outside and onto the street.
Not long after I got home, Anita called. “How many cocktails have you had?” she asked.
“None yet. Although I might later to celebrate. Remember the EcoTalent role I told you about? I have an interview on January third.”
“No way! Congratulations!”
“Thanks,” I said. “There’s something else…”
“Something bad? Please tell me it isn’t about Oliver.”
“No.” I grinned again. “Stuff happened with Marco yesterday.”
My sister shrieked when I told her I hadn’t spent the night at home and peppered me with so many questions, I could barely keep up. I made my answers as succinct as possible, pleading the fifth on a few of them as she sometimes did, before pressing on and explaining what I’d overheard at Dessert Dudes.
“I want to be honest with Marco and let him know I heard his and Vince’s conversation,” I said. “On the other hand, I don’t want to make things difficult between them, and I don’t want to upset things between Marco and me, either. What do you think I should do?”
“If telling him Vince is behaving like a jackass isn’t an option—”
“Anita…”
“Don’t mention the conversation.”
“So…lie.”
“Only by omission,” she said. “Let him handle his buddy.”
A short while after we hung up, Marco texted to see how I was, saying he and Vince were miles behind and he’d be working later than expected. I replied with a heart emoji, wished him good luck, and told him I’d have an early night. A flurry of texts ensued.
Marco: Wish I was there with you
Me: Same
Marco: I’ll be back here early but would love to help with your Advent calendar task later tomorrow
Me: It’s a date
Marco: A DATE date?
With a huge grin I replied, Definitely a DATE date