Chapter 7
Seven
Joy
I'm back up in my room, after promising to help decorate the tree. Opening my laptop, I try once more to log on to the wi-fi, but there's not one bar, much less enough for me to sign on. Grabbing my phone, I figure I can maybe hot spot, but again, there's very little service.
Frustrated, I shoot off a text message, hoping that it'll go through to my boss.
Me: Alex, I'm so sorry, I barely have service to send this text. I've almost got the presentation done, but I don't know how I'm going to send it. They've declared a state of emergency.
Alex: Never mind, Joy. I need it today. We'll deal with this when I see you in office after Christmas.
My stomach drops as I read the message. He's upset, and so am I.
I've worked on this presentation for months.
This is supposed to be one of our biggest clients if we can get them to sign.
Tilting my head to the side, I wonder why Alex isn't anymore upset about this.
Granted, he was rude earlier, but what is he planning to do if I don't show up?
Scrolling through my contacts I find a friend from the office, Monica.
Me: Hey Monica, I know you're probably super busy, but I have a question if you have a minute.
Monica: OMG Joy, are you okay? we heard that you're stranded!
Well at least Alex hasn't lied about where I am, I guess.
Me: I'm fine, luckily I got picked up off the road from someone I knew in high school. Right now I have no service except for texts, but Alex doesn't seem to be freaking out too much about the Patterson account.
She doesn't answer for what feels like way too long, and when she does, the anger makes my blood boil.
Monica: I don't know how to tell you this, but I feel like I need to be honest. He's had Brittany working on a presentation for Patterson too. He was going to choose his favorite when the two of you showed up.
That motherfucker. I've been working on this for the better part of a few months, and he's had someone else competing against me? This is a betrayal I haven't felt in a long time.
Me: Thanks for letting me know, Monica. I appreciate it.
Monica: I have no doubt that yours would've been better.
But that doesn't make up for all the hours I've spent that I'll never get back. And after seeing Winter with Alana, I'm beginning to wonder if all those hours even matter.
Two hours later I'm heading down to the lobby, dressed in a pair of black leggings and a festive Christmas sweater. I took the time to put on some makeup and curl my hair. It's probably stupid. No one will even notice, and I have to think about who I'm actually doing it for.
Winter.
It doesn't matter that I left him, he's the only person who's ever made me feel like I was important, and I need that more than anything right now.
"Dad, there's Joy."
Alana's voice makes me almost want to cry. There's such excitement in it, like I'm someone special just for showing up. When was the last time anyone was that happy to see me? Probably Winter back when we were dating. That thought hits me right in the middle of my chest.
"Hey," I say, smiling as I approach them near the massive tree in the lobby.
It's at least twelve feet tall, bare branches just ready for whatever kind of ornaments and lights they have available for it.
I haven't decorated a tree in at least seven years.
I've just never embraced the Christmas spirit like I should, but I'm really excited about this.
"You look really pretty," Alana says, and Winter's eyes meet mine over her head.
"Thank you, sweetie. So do you." And she does, in a red velvet dress that's probably too fancy for decorating, but she's five, so it's perfect.
"I like your sweater," Winter says, his voice washing all over my body. I remember how he used to whisper intimately in my ear as we'd push and pull against each other in the cab of his truck. "Very festive."
I glance down at the ridiculous reindeer pattern. "I figured if I'm going to be stuck in a Christmas storm, I might as well look the part. I don't even know why I packed this thing. Must've known that I'd need it."
"Well, you nailed it." The way he's looking at me makes me feel like I'm a teenager again, standing in the hallway waiting for him between classes.
"Are we ready to do this?" I ask, gesturing to the boxes of what I assume are ornaments and lights stacked nearby.
"Yes," Alana yells. "Dad and I do this every year at home by ourselves. Sometimes we have help when we come here, but we've never had anyone as pretty as you."
The innocent comment hits harder than it should. Just the two of them, year after year, making memories while I was in Indianapolis chasing a career that apparently doesn't even value me enough to be honest about my competition.
That's a hard fucking pill to swallow.
"Well, I'm honored to be included," I tell her, and I mean it.
Winter starts untangling strings of lights while Alana digs through ornament boxes with the enthusiasm that only a five-year-old can.
I find myself drawn into their happiness, hanging ornaments where Alana directs, laughing when she insists certain ones have to go in specific spots for reasons only she understands.
"That one is my favorite," she explains, holding up a handmade ornament that looks like it was crafted by a smaller child. "I made it when I was little."
Winter and I look at each other, him pushing a laugh back as she says she was little.
"It's beautiful," I say, taking it from her carefully and hanging it on a branch at her eye level.
Winter catches my eye and mouths thank you. My chest tightens with pleasure.
"Hot cocoa delivery." Carol appears with a tray holding three steaming mugs topped with whipped cream and mini marshmallows.
"Carol, you're amazing," I tell her, accepting a mug. "It's been a very long time since I had hot chocolate."
"It's tradition," she says with a wink. "Can't decorate a Christmas tree without hot chocolate."
Alana takes her mug carefully, blowing on it before taking a tiny sip that leaves whipped cream on her nose. Winter reaches over and wipes it off with his thumb, and the gesture is so tender it makes my throat tight. These two are closer than either of us had been with our parents.
This is what I gave up. This warmth, this family feeling, this sense of belonging somewhere.
"Joy, can you put the angel on top?" Alana asks. "Dad always has to use the ladder, but maybe you could do it this year?"
"I still need the ladder, sweetheart," I laugh. "I'm not that tall."
"I'll help you," Winter says, already moving the ladder into position.
As I climb up, ornament in hand, I'm acutely aware of Winter's hands. One of them is steadying the ladder, the other curved around my waist, his presence right below me. When I place the angel and climb back down, Alana claps her hands together.
"It's perfect." She grins, so happy to have it done. "Can we plug it in now, Dad?"
Winter flips the switch, and the tree comes to life with hundreds of twinkling lights. In the dimmed lobby, with the fireplace crackling nearby and snow falling outside the windows, it's almost magical.
"It's beautiful," I whisper.
"It really is," Winter agrees, but when I look over, he's watching me, not the tree.
We spend the next hour finishing the decorating, with Alana directing us like a tiny, festive general. She wants certain ornaments grouped together, others spread out, and has very specific opinions about which side of the tree is the front. It's more fun than I've had in a very long time.
By the time we're done, Alana is yawning, her earlier energy gone. She curls up on one of the leather couches near the fireplace, her eyes drooping.
"I'm just going to rest for a minute," she mumbles.
"Sure, baby," Winter says softly, brushing her hair back from her face.
Within minutes, she's asleep, her breathing deep and even.
"I should get her to bed. It's been a long day with a lot of excitement for her," Winter says quietly. "There's a bedroom in my office for nights like this, when the weather's bad or we're working late."
"Of course," I say, starting to gather empty mugs.
"Don't leave," he says quickly, then clears his throat. "I mean, if you want to stay. I've got wine in my office. We could sit by the fire for a bit?"
My heart does flutters in my chest. This is a complication I probably shouldn't welcome, but here we are. "I'd like that."
I watch as he gently lifts Alana, cradling her against his chest. She doesn't even stir, just burrows into him, completely trusting. He disappears down a hallway, and I'm left standing in front of the Christmas tree we just decorated together, wondering what the hell I'm doing.
To keep myself busy, I return the mugs to the kitchen, again thanking Carol for the hot drinks.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," she whispers as she gives me a wink.
"I won't," I whisper back. Although I have no idea what she might do, or might not do.
Ten minutes later, Winter's back, carrying two glasses of red wine.
"She's out cold," he says, handing me a glass before settling onto the couch. "She had a big day."
I take a drink, swirling the liquid around in the glass. "She's wonderful, Winter. You've done an amazing job with her."
"I'm trying." He takes a sip of wine, staring into the fire. "Some days I'm not sure I know what I'm doing, but I'm trying. That's the one thing my parents never did with me, they didn't try."
I sit down next to him, leaving a respectable amount of space between us. "Mine didn't either, you know that. But you? You're doing more than trying. She's happy, she's confident, she clearly adores you. That's everything."
"Yeah?" He turns to look at me, and in the firelight, his eyes are almost gold. "Sometimes I wonder if she needs more. A mother figure, or at least more women in her life besides Carol and Fiona."
"She seems to be doing just fine," I say softly. "But I get it. Wanting to give her everything."
We fall into a comfortable silence, sipping wine and watching the fire. The storm continues outside, but in here, it's warm and safe.
"Can I ask you something?" Winter's voice breaks the quiet.
"Sure."
"Do you ever regret it? Leaving?"
The question hangs in the air between us.
I could lie, could tell him that my career has been everything I wanted, that I have no regrets.
But tonight, I need to be honest. Honest about the betrayal from Alex, about decorating the tree with Winter and his daughter, about being back in this town I ran from. It all makes me want to be honest.
"Sometimes," I admit. "Especially lately. I thought I was building something important in Indianapolis, but today I found out my boss has been having someone else work on the same project as me. Like I'm in some kind of competition I didn't even know about."
"That's shitty."
"Yeah." I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "I've given that job everything for ten years. Sixty-hour weeks, missed holidays, no real relationships because I was always working. And for what? To be pitted against someone else without even knowing it? She was an acquaintance too, I liked her."
Winter sets his wine glass down and turns to face me fully. "You deserved better than that."
"I'm starting to think I deserved better than a lot of things I settled for."
"Joy…"
"No, let me say this." I set my own glass down, turning to face him.
"I left because I was scared. Scared of being trapped in this small town, scared of being in love with you so early in my life, scared of losing myself and not knowing who I was.
But you know what? I lost myself anyway. Just in a different way."
"You're not lost," he says quietly. "You're right here."
And suddenly, the space between us is both too large and too small. His eyes drop to my mouth, then back up to meet my gaze. Those eyes of his darken, and I feel the arousal between my thighs.
"Winter..."
"Tell me to stop," he whispers, leaning closer. "Tell me this is a bad idea, and I will."
But I don't tell him to stop. Instead, I close the distance between us, pressing my lips to his.
The kiss is gentle but urgent, and when his hand comes up to cup my face, I melt into it. When we finally pull apart, both breathless, he rests his forehead against mine.
"I've been wanting to do that since the moment I saw you on the side of the road," he admits, his warm breath fanning against my face.
"Me too," I whisper back.
And for the first time in ten years, I feel like maybe, just maybe, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.