Krystal
Is it a walk of shame if the walk is only a step or two back to my room?
I guess it’s not a walk of shame because I’m not ashamed, even in the slightest. After last night I feel like I could start a new business, move to a new country, fly to space — small feats compared to the mind blowing sex I had last night.
Maybe it’s because it’s been forever, but…
that felt…different, than anything I’d experienced before.
I didn’t even bother getting dressed in the outfit I wore last night.
I tie the plush Emerson B&B robe at my waist and pad over to my room at ten in the morning.
Nick was already gone when I woke up. The note he left me saying he went to go take pictures was right next to my pillow when I opened my eyes.
My heart flutters.
He’s not mine.
He’s not mine.
He’s not mine.
But for the next seven days…
A deep sigh forces its way through my chest. Am I setting myself up for something devastating by doing this? When he goes back to DC and I go back to New York, what happens then? My heart races as I wait for the shower to heat up.
New York isn’t that far from DC.
I splash a bit of water against my face. I need to get comfortable with a reality where, in a week, Nick and I wish each other a Merry Christmas and for that to be the end of whatever we’ve started here.
What have we started here?
Two grieving, broken individuals tangling themselves by the heart during a holiday that’s monumental to both of us. But if you asked me if I could walk up to him right now and tell him I don’t want to do this anymore, I would tell you to go all the way to hell and never come back.
Steam envelopes me as I massage the back of my neck. Even as my fingers caress my skin, the ghost of his grip seizes me. My mouth dries with want as the recent memory pulses at the forefront of my mind.
The knob in the shower squeaks as I turn it off, then I find my phone and dial Rae. Her rich voice trills through the speaker when she picks up. “On the fifth day of Christmas, my baby gave to me…hmmm…a Rolex and…a Patek Philippe.”
The smile that spreads across my face is involuntary. She’s so aggravating. I love her.
“Hello, Raegan,” I stifle my laughter.
“What’s up? Is my crazy Christmas bitch back yet?” She asks.
My smiling mouth betrays me by growing wider.
“I slept with him.”
“With who?”
“With Nick, the guy I told you about — the other —”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
Her scream interrupts me before I can finish. I don’t even try to choke the laughter bubbling in my chest. “Can you try to be just a little bit serious? I want your advice.” I have a feeling that I know what her answer will be, but I want to hear her say it anyway.
“Okay?” She prompts.
A lump forms in my throat, my confession sits heavy on my tongue. “I like him, Rae. A lot. He’s funny and kind…thoughtful. I don’t know if this is a good idea,” I say.
“What exactly would be the problem?” She probes.
My chest burns. “I don’t know if I can take it if…if at the end of all this he rejects me,” I admit.
“Is there…an after this?” She asks, the sudden seriousness of her tone levels me. I push the bathroom door open and suck in a breath of cool air.
“I…I don’t know. I might be open to it if things continue to go the way they have been.”
While my heart races, she allows silence to stretch through the speaker. “What exactly are you asking me, Krys?”
The mattress gives under my weight when I plop into the bed. “I don’t know. I’m scared.”
She sighs. “I think you should stop worrying about what could be and just focus on what is. Right now, is he making you feel good? Is he helping you have a good time?”
I cover my face with my hands. “Yes.”
“Then just enjoy that. You haven’t enjoyed Christmas in years.
Maybe at the end of it all you decide to leave whatever happened between you where you are right now.
Maybe you’ll decide to keep in touch, maybe you’ll want more.
That’s not your job to know right now. What I do know is you’re the one in control here.
So, trust yourself. You’ll know what’s right for you when you’re in the moment. ”
Her sage response isn’t quite what I expected. I’ve been worried about what he’ll want to do and completely neglected that it might be me, who doesn’t want anything more. The realization makes me feel…powerful.
“And if you do want more and he doesn’t, he’s just another nutty negro that doesn’t deserve you anyway,” she adds, pulling a smile to my face. “Okay?”
I laugh. “Okay.”
“Now,” she continues, “on to more important matters. How was it?”
“Rae,” I pause, pressing my palms into my blushing cheeks. “I don’t know if it’s because it’s been so long but…”
“Damn.”
“Exactly,” I chuckle.
“I probably should book me and Charlie a trip down there if that’s how they have y’all moving,” she muses.
“Girl, this town is everything. Like, the perfect escape. I wouldn’t mind living here.”
“Maybe you should,” she suggests.
The statement is like a cold bucket of water thrown over me. “Wait, for real? You think so?”
“Krystal, you really gotta stop looking for permission to do shit and just do it — if it’s something you want to do,” she scolds.
I sit up, folding my legs under myself and gnawing on the inside of my cheek.
She’s right, that’s how I ended up here in the first place.
When we first started dating, Jeremy used to make it feel like I’d betrayed him whenever I’d do something without consulting him first. I’m tired of feeling like I need permission to live my life, to do things that make me happy and not care about anything else.
“I don’t know if it’ll be here, but I do see myself leaving New York,” I say, holding my breath for her response. I know she’ll be supportive, but I’m nervous anyway.
“Honestly, Krys, it’s about damn time. I don’t know why you stayed for so long,” she follows.
I nod, although she can’t see me. I stayed out of spite at first.
Oh, you think I can’t make it in this city without you? Bet.
Eventually, I realized, he doesn’t care. He’s not thinking about me. So, if I’m not happy there, why stay?
I’ve given myself a lot of grace. After ten years of devotion, sacrificing your pride and happiness to give someone else what they want in the name of loving them, you don’t just break out of toxic patterns when that person breaks up with you.
But was that love, really? I no longer believe that that kind of self-betrayal is true love, because you can’t possibly love yourself and betray yourself at the same time.
And if you don’t love yourself, how can you love at all?
I wish it were just as easily done as it is to be said.
I tiptoe against the cold floors and restart the shower, letting the water get warm again. “Alright, I gotta go,” I say.
“Love you, bye — stop overthinking everything,” she responds.
???
We have a few hours before we head into town for the Festival of Lights.
The emptiness in my stomach is tangible by the time I finish getting dressed for the day.
Today’s lunch features butternut squash soup as an appetizer, chicken salad, and grilled salmon as the main.
One of the staff members breezes past me with a tray piled with cinnamon rolls just as I enter the dining room.
A number of guests flock towards them, and Nicholas Saint is one of them.
My eyes crawl over the length of his body, and as if he can feel the weight of my gaze, he turns to face me.
His eyes light up, his lips part in a smile.
A rush of blood floods my cheeks, my nipples form stiff peaks under my cashmere sweater.
I grab a plate and head over to the spread of food, its aroma dancing through my nostrils and reminding me that I’m supposed to be hungry.
Nick takes a bite out of his cinnamon roll while he makes his way over, and it takes everything for me not to watch the swagger of his hips in those baggy snow pants, or the flex of his muscles under the tight thermal hugging his torso. I focus on building my plate.
“Hiding from me, Snowflake?” His voice is soft and low next to my ear.
I swallow, not answering immediately and letting him hover. He’s standing as close to me as possible, a finger away from touching me. Now that my body is aware of his presence, it’s funny how much I miss the feel of him. I wish he’d rest his hand against my lower back, let his front graze me.
“What would I be hiding from?” I answer.
The energy between us shifts. The familiar playfulness is cloaked in something warm and sticky.
When I turn, I expect him to step aside.
Instead, I almost spill my plate all over him when he stands firm in his place.
He lifts my chin with a finger, his heavy-lidded eyes turn my thoughts to white noise.
He places a kiss on my lips so tender, I feel it in my knees.
“Come out with me today?” I barely catch my breath when the question leaves his perfect mouth.
“What about —”
“We’ll catch up to them,” he says.
It’s clear he doesn’t plan to take no for an answer. My heart constricts. “Yeah, okay,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. The corners of his lips turn up in a satisfied smile before he takes off, his camera holstered like a weapon on his side.
When I finally go to take a seat, Rita and Alex are gaping up at me. I lift my chin, a grown ass woman who doesn’t need to explain myself or hide from anyone.
Giddy excitement courses through me.
I shovel the food into my mouth, it’s tender where it should be, crunchy when it needs to be, and perfectly seasoned…
but it doesn’t satisfy me. My thoughts drift back and forth between memories of last night and fantasies of what’s to come.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I mindlessly reach for it, not expecting to see the name on the screen or for it to sour the food in my mouth.
Maybe: Tameka