Chapter Thirteen
Thirteen
The cabin walls feel smaller with each passing hour.
I’m trapped with a newborn, unable to go out with COVID rampant. Anna is too young to be vaccinated. Outside, the sun bathes the mountain in gold, promising a freedom beyond my reach. Inside, I’m frozen.
Laughter and voices drift up as the house stirs around us. Sounds of the family returning from the festival.
“Hey, you.” Jules stands in the doorway of the sunroom, where Anna and I have been playing.
“How was it?”
“Cute as always, a little weird with masks. What’s up? You’ve got that deep-in-thought look again.” Jules sinks onto the carpet, tickling Anna’s belly.
I choose my words carefully. “Can I ask you something... personal?”
“Of course. What’s going on?”
“After you had the boys... did things change between you and Tom? Physically, I mean?”
She studies me, her amber eyes softening in the pause.
“I know you don’t want to hear about your brother’s sex life, but… something has shifted between us.” I clench my shaking hands. “He barely touches me, and when he does, it’s after I’ve practically begged.”
“Tom and I had a readjustment period. Your body changes. Your priorities shift. You’re exhausted. It takes time to find your way back to each other. But the difference is…we talked about it. We showed up for each other. Even when it was hard.”
I swallow. And say it: “It’s more than the sex, Jules.”
“I know that, babe. Are you ready to finish the conversation we started last year?” She holds my eyes with a strength I wish I could find. “I’m here for you whenever you’re ready.”
But she’s not done, and the wicked glint in her eye says she’s about to go full Jules on me.
“Luckily, this isn’t the seventeenth century. You don’t need Mason for orgasms. That’s what vibrators are for.” She smirks and grabs my phone, switching off the soft nursery rhymes. “And you don’t need him to feel good in your body. You can claim that all on your own.”
A beat drops. Beyoncé’s sensual voice booms through the speakers.
Jules pulls me up, eyes glittering, “Come on, Syd. Channel your inner goddess. Walk out of here knowing you’re a bad bitch with a fine ass.”
“Fuck it.” I accept the dare, throw my arms in the air, and let my body move. Awkward at first, self-conscious.
Each sultry lyric pushes something loose inside me. I start to sway, letting the music lead. The rhythm builds, and I follow, hips rolling, shoulders rocking, something waking up inside me.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the window’s reflection, the way I move, the way I own the space. There’s allure in it. Grace. Power. For someone who’s spent so long feeling unseen, it’s revolutionary to truly see myself.
I don’t need anyone else to see it.
I see it. I feel it.
Jules scoops up Anna and twirls her, laughing, while I keep dancing, this rhythm meant for no one but myself.
Beyoncé becomes my anthem. I grind. I shake. I reclaim. Every beat sinks in a little deeper, filling me up, so when the song ends, I’ll carry this feeling with me. This proof that I don’t need permission to feel good in my own skin. A Partition between the past and future.
This liberation? It’s mine.
Jules glances over my shoulder, and I don’t have to turn to know. I feel him. That almost physical sensation of his gaze brushing the base of my neck, trailing heat down my spine.
James leans against the doorframe, ten feet away, and my skin tightens in response. Our eyes meet. A look similar to the one in the kitchen flashes across his face. Undeniable. Scorching hot. Before he looks away, down at the woman beside him, Ivy.
Jules calls out, “Want to join our dance party? The more the merrier. Syd is showing off her moves.”
Ivy hesitates, glancing at James but his eyes are closed. She moves into the room with slow, seductive choreography. James doesn’t follow. When his eyes open, they go straight to me.
And I’m too aware of myself.
The flush on my cheeks. The thin sheen of sweat on my skin. The rise and fall of my chest, too quick, too shallow. Every sway of my hips becomes a prayer.
Jules leans close, her voice a low, calm force. “And maybe someday soon, you’ll tell me why James is looking at you like he’s trying not to drown.”
She spins me, forcing me to face him.
His eyes are heavy-lidded, and I’m mesmerized by the rhythm of his breathing. A small hollow forms at the base of his throat with each inhale, vanishing as he exhales. I count that gentle rise and fall four times when—
“Yes, ladies!” Ivy bumps her hip against mine.
I reach for my phone, swallowing down the heat on my cheeks, switching the music back to lullabies as I take Anna from Jules. My lips press to her head as I inhale the sweet scent of baby soap and dried milk. “Now this is more our speed.”
Jules gives me a knowing look. I will my face to cool because whatever she is trying to decipher, I’m not sure I’m hiding it well. She turns to Ivy, “Come on. Mom asked us to help her with dinner.”
As their footsteps fade down the hallway, the hush that settles in the sunroom is anything but calm. It crackles—electric, alive with everything simmering underneath. I meet his eyes again, and every inch between us feels too loud.
James steps toward me, humming along to the faint lullaby.
Each step he takes is measured. His hand hovers near my shoulder, close enough that I feel the heat of it, trembling with the effort not to touch me.
He sets a small bag on the chair and steps back.
His hand presses lightly to his heart in a quiet, devastating gesture that steals mine.
“That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
And he leaves.
I stand there, my breath caught somewhere between my head and my stomach. Swallowing hard, I reach for the bag. My fingers brush the hard edges of a book cover before I pull it free. A new release I haven’t read yet, but have been dying to get my hands on.
Tucked between the pages is a folded note.
Thought of you when I saw this.
Wanted to make sure you got your Christmas Eve book.
–J
I close my eyes, willing my heart to slow. “Shh, shh,” I murmur to Anna, though she’s already fast asleep.
***
After dinner, with Anna and the older kids in bed, I bundle up and leash Bell for an evening walk under the moonlight. I need the cold air, the quiet. Something to ground me before I can sit on the back deck with the others, another performance of being “fine.”
“Jules, will you keep an eye on Anna?” I hand her the monitor before slipping away, avoiding the eyes of everyone else.
Bell and I meander down the snowy trail behind the house, the path winding deeper into the trees.
The evergreens stand tall, their snow-crusted limbs bending under the weight of winter.
Wind whips through the branches, swirling flakes into the air, biting at my exposed skin.
The moon burns bright enough to light my way.
Suddenly, the sharp crunch of snow—
A twig snaps—
The night splits open with sound—
I snatch up a fallen branch, raising it like a weapon.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” A deep voice cuts through the dark. One I’d recognize anywhere.
James steps into view, his hands raised in surrender.
I toss the branch aside. “In my years of running, it doesn’t take much to put me on high alert. I’m conditioned to be ready for anything.”
He exhales. “Fuck. I hate that.” A pause, before he asks, “Can I join you?”
“If you want,” I say, starting toward where the path divides.
We walk in silence, weaving through the trees, stepping carefully over fallen limbs, avoiding hidden divots in the snow-blanketed ground. The night is still, broken only by the wind’s low whistle, a distant owl, and Bell’s occasional bark.
Our shoulders brush—once, twice. As if by instinct, we drift closer and just as quickly, we remember we can’t.
“Did you write a letter to Santa this year?” He asks, clever amusement warming his face.
“Of course. Didn’t you?”
“Naturally. Though I’m not sure how the big guy feels about fulfilling the wishes of a grown man.”
“And what exactly did you ask for?”
He pauses dramatically until I can’t help but smile. “Peace on earth. End of world hunger. And… new running sneakers.”
“Ah, so the basics.”
“Exactly.” He nudges me lightly with his elbow. “What about you? What does Sydney Wallis put on her Christmas list?”
“Sleep. Long, uninterrupted sleep,” I sigh, staring at the night sky.
“Now that’s a solid wish. If I could give you that, I would.”
Night enfolds us, stars scattered through the naked branches.
How long has it been since I stood under the stars with someone who's made me laugh?
Who's asked about my wishes? We walk in silence for a while, lost in our heads.
The charge in the air grows with each quiet step.
Like each step is willing truths to spill.
“What’s your favorite Christmas memory?” I ask, aiming for something safe.
He falls quiet, his breath fogging in slow, visible puffs, eyes cast forward.
“The year I got my first set of professional drawing pencils and a sketchbook. My mom gave me the drawing stuff. It wasn’t a lot, but it was just her and me sitting around a tree and drinking hot cocoa. It was the first Christmas we spent without my father.”
“I’ve seen you sketching around the house. Is it for work, or do you still do it for fun?”
He studies my face, deciding how honest to be.
“Both,” he says at last. “I hand-draw all my building concepts. It’s how I start every design. But lately… I’ve been sketching for myself again.”
I hesitate, my pulse stuttering, because I know the next question. I know what I want to ask. And the way he’s looking at me, already waiting for it, makes it worse. I look away and search the night sky.
“What about you? Favorite Christmas memory?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck.