9. Melody
MELODY
The words flow now, faster and harder than I’ve ever written. Call it the inspiration of heartbreak or simply the need to focus on anything but the overwhelming quiet of the house, but I can’t stop writing from dawn until dusk on Saturday.
I’m a bit jittery from all the coffee I’ve had, but there’s a real manuscript in the works, one that will make it to the editor by the end of the year if I can only keep up this pace.
The crunch of snow under tires rouses me from the deep trance of my writing, and I peer out the picture window toward the roadway.
Eli!
Startled to see him on the property, I jump up, my hands sweaty. I saw his texts, but I couldn’t bring myself to respond. I don’t want to set myself up for more disappointment when I know that’s what he’s bound to deliver.
But I can’t deny that I’m so excited to see him. Even though I’ve thrown myself into work all day, churning out page after page, his attractive face lingers heavily on my mind.
Flicking on the porch light, I open the door before he can knock. He looks surprised to see me, but his face relaxes instantly.
“Hi,” he says. He’s holding a gift bag in his hands, but I try not to look at it as I search his dark eyes for an explanation.
“Hi,” I reply. We stare at one another awkwardly for a long moment. “Do you want to come in?”
“If you’re not in the middle of something.”
I glance back toward my laptop.
He follows my gaze. “Are you working? I would have called, but…”
“I was working, but I can take a break.” I usher him inside.
“I can’t stay long,” he tells me, and I bristle. Why am I not surprised? “It’s my nephew’s Christmas pageant right now, and I already left in the middle of the show.”
My anger fizzles as I gape at him. “Why did you leave?”
“Because I needed to come and see you and tell you that I’m sorry.”
Flabbergasted, I gape at him.
“I know I’ve been keeping you at a distance since we met, and none of that is your fault. You made it really hard to keep going on this way, actually. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner, but…”
Our gazes lock as my brow knits.
“But what?” I insist.
“But after my last relationship, I didn’t think I could move on without dragging you down.”
Stunned, I step back to sit at the antique table, pursing my lips. Eli remains in his spot, but shifts from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. But I don’t want him to stop, even though I don’t say anything. He reads my expression clearly, though.
“It’s not like I still have feelings for her,” he explains. “It was a terrible relationship. We didn’t have a lot in common and probably held on too long after it was clear it was over. But Jill didn’t want to accept it, and for months, she hounded me to get back together.”
I don’t know what to think about this new information, but it’s the first time I really feel like he’s talking to me, really opening up.
“And honestly, I was a little afraid to get involved with anyone again after how far south everything went between us.”
I stare up at him. “What changed?”
He inhales sharply. “Nothing changed. I just realized how ridiculous I was when I shut you out… but you have to admit that you haven’t let me in fully, either.”
I’m taken aback by his accusation. “That’s not entirely true…”
“It is. You don’t want to talk things through, like I’m getting in the way when I try?—”
“You’re not the best communicator. You just said so yourself,” I interject sharply.
We stare at each other, and a spark of shame overcomes me.
“But you’re right.” Gazing down at my hands, I stifle a sigh. “My book… my last book, it was a huge flop.”
He frowns. “That’s not true. I read the reviews. People liked it.”
“Not as much as they did my first two,” I admit, flushing with humiliation. “I’m on a deadline, and I’m not motivated. I hoped moving here would serve up some inspiration, and it did… but also a distraction… in the form of you.”
A smile twitches at the corners of his lips.
“Distractions from life aren’t always a bad thing.
” He extends his hands. “As long as they eventually get us back on track.” He takes a step closer and offers me the gift bag.
“I brought you something, but I really do have to go.” Dropping the present on the table, he backs up and gives me a gentle smile. “Can I text you later?”
I nod, my pulse racing as he reaches for the door handle. “Have fun at the pageant.”
The moment he leaves, I open the bag and peer inside, shoving aside the mound of red tissue paper. At the bottom of the bag is a beautiful, whittled house, raw but undeniably my grandmother’s cabin in all its little detail.
He made this.
Emotional tears flood my eyes, and before I know what’s happening, I’m racing toward the porch in my socked feet, ignoring the icy blast of Montana snow against my cheeks.
“Wait!” I yell at Eli as he backs out of the driveway toward the road. He slams on the brakes and rolls down the window, his brow furrowing with worry.
“What? What’s wrong?” he demands. “Are you okay?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and rush toward him. “Can I come with you? To the pageant?”
His face relaxes into the biggest smile I’ve ever seen.
“Not without boots and a coat, you can’t,” he teases.
I spin around and rush back to the house to gear up into my winter clothes before rejoining him at the truck.
We’re going to be okay as long as we stick together, I realize, sneaking him a sidelong look. As if he’s reading my mind, he reaches for my hand and squeezes it, sending a warm, happy shiver through my body. Christmas might be warmer than I expected now.