11. Gia
11
Gia
I’ve missed snow. It still makes me feel giddy and childlike. I like everything about it, even having to shovel it.
Except this kind of snow can’t really be shoveled. The drifts are high, higher than any Blue Flag has had in many Decembers.
I am so close to the window in the door that my nose is almost pressed against the glass like a child. My breath condensates against the glass with every breath I take.
“The roads out of here aren’t looking good,” Dad says into the phone pressed to my ear.
Thankfully, with the generator back on, we got our Wi-Fi back, and while cell service is spotty, we’re not totally cloistered off from the rest of the world anymore.
“Here, either. I called the plow company, but they’re swamped. Obviously,” I huff into the phone.
“We’ll be there tomorrow, come hell or high water, Gia,” he replies.
I close my eyes. “I’d rather you be safe than try and make it for Christmas Eve,” I say. I’m not a child anymore. I know what matters in life: life itself. My parents being here in time for Christmas Eve isn’t worth the risk if the roads aren’t right. “Promise me you won’t try anything stupid.”
“Are you calling me stupid, cara ?!” Dad gasps.
“And she’d be right for it,” I hear my mother in the background.
I laugh. “Not stupid, just don’t want your big love to get in the way of your thinking. You know how you tend to do that.”
Dad hesitates. “I do not want you to be alone on Christmas.”
“I won’t be alone. It will be like the Christmas I was supposed to have in Los Angeles. I’ve got Kade and Bryn and—” My mind travels to Mars. The man, not the planet, although they may as well be one and the same. “Everyone here. We’re going to have a great time.”
I hear my mom ask something in the background, too garbled for me to make out.
“I’ll ask, I’ll ask,” Dad tells her before his voice returns directly to the receiver. “Gia? Did the final guest ever show up?”
My mouth grows hot. “Yep.”
“Oh, good. Everything all right?”
I pull at the collar of my sweater. I’m starting to sweat. I don’t want them to know Mars is here. My parents are loving and have always trusted my judgment, which means when Mars was mine, he was a part of the family. But they are also protective, so the second the relationship was over, he was dead to them.
Knowing he’s here will just make them worry, put them on high alert, and make them do something stupid by rushing over here even if the roads aren’t ready. It’s not like they can do anything anyway. They’re just protective to a fault, of every piece of me, including my emotions, which aren’t under their control.
I can’t blame them, though. They raised me, after all. They saw how hard I took every disappointment, how my fixations could turn inward, the self-flagellation that could follow.
I’m a grown-up now, though. I can handle it.
Mars is just a man, anyway.
“Everything is fine. Great. No complaints so far,” I say with a hapless laugh. “Now, I should go check on some things; um, I’ll call you later, okay?”
“My goodness, you are so grown, Gia. Taking care of things,” Dad says.
I roll my eyes. “I’ve been grown, Dad.”
“Yes, but you know… the inn, you are so mature.”
I smile to myself. It’s nice sometimes to know I don’t have to be an international pop star in order to inspire pride in my parents. Reminds me that if the universe took a different turn, I’d still be loved the exact same. “Kiss Mom for me.”
“Oh, I will,” he says in a syrupy voice.
“Ew. Bye.” I hang up the phone, laughing to myself. They’re so gross.
“Am I interrupt?—”
“Ah!” I spin around at the sound of Mars’s voice, pressing myself up against the door.
Mars takes a step back, holding his hands up as if approaching a wily rodent. “Easy!”
“Why are you sneaking up on me?!”
“I’m not sneaking up on you, Gia; I just wanted to talk with you. I…” Mars slides his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Even far from the public eye, he wears the tightest jeans. “Everything all right? With your parents?”
I relax my guard down and dart around Mars to get back behind the counter so I can busy myself with something and get him to back off. “Yes, they’re fine. Stuck in Harbor Point, but that’s better than the alternatives, I suppose.”
“Yes, absolutely. I’m glad they’re well. I’m looking forward to seeing them.”
I start to shuffle papers around the counter. “So, what do you need? Everything okay in your cabin?” The snow abated just enough last night to get Mars out to his cabin.
“Yes, I still owe your Kade some thanks for hauling my bag out there. Could have left it until morning, you know,” Mars says.
Your Kade. What a strange way to put it. He’s not mine just because he works for me. “Well, we aim to give utmost service here at the Lantern, even in the middle of a blizzard,” I say with a smile and bobble of my head. Yes, there is an alternate universe where I would have crushed it as the front desk manager.
Mars sighs, leaning his forearm on the counter. His rings gleam under the light, every one of them I know from years of holding hands and tracing the pads of my fingers over each one. He’s acquired a new one on his middle finger. Had to after he gave me that one to wear around a necklace. I gave it away to be auctioned off for charity after the breakup. This one is an onyx rectangle on a silver band. I’m sure he’s come up with some obscure meaning for it. “So, I found a room at a hotel nearby. Problem is that the roads are… well… you know.”
My shoulders slump. “Mars, I’m not going to turn you out just because things are how they are.”
“I hope you believe me when I say I really had no idea until I got here that you’d—” Mars stops short and clacks his nails against the counter. “I suppose that doesn’t make it much better in the scheme of things that I didn’t even realize this was your home and everything. I wasn’t the best listener.”
I am not quick with a witty or aggravated retort because I’m shocked by his self-awareness. Mars wasn’t a bad boyfriend because he was cruel or unromantic. But he could be thoughtless. Ill-timed. Selfish in ways that were obscured by his charm. “Mars…”
“And I know the timing of the album—I know that was—” Mars lifts his chin and looks up, his warm brown skin almost sparkling. “You know how labels are. I had nothing to do with it.”
“It’s fine. You don’t have to defend yourself,” I explain. “It’s the business.”
“But we weren’t business, Gia. You know that, right?”
If I’m honest, I’ve tried to spin the memory differently. My relationship with Mars bolstered both of our careers. It’s the reason I can’t get away from the news cycles anymore, though the relationship’s been over for months. However, our love was not born from professional obligation.
It was real.
And for maybe the first time, it doesn’t hurt to acknowledge that. “I know, Mars.”
“And the songs, you know, many of them are inspired by our time together. I’m not too proud to acknowledge that,” he explains. “But the articles coming out saying that I’m trying to?—”
“People always want to find meaning where there is none,” I say.
Mars nods. “And vice versa, I suppose. Anyway, are we good? Can we be civil while I’m here?”
I’m shocked by how at ease I feel in Mars’s presence. I’ve avoided him for months, thinking all the feelings would revolt against my recovery. Yet the reality is I’ve done the work. I’m at peace. I don’t need to question if I’m over him or not.
Grief doesn’t work quite like that. There isn’t a point at which it just ends. But it does get easier, becomes familiar, and even welcomed. I can grieve that relationship without wanting it back.
I’m a hundred percent sure Mars no longer holds that place in my mind.
Someone else does. Yearning is a different kind of ache over memory.
“Of course, civil,” I reply.
He lets out a heavy sigh, placing his hands on his hips. “Good. Oh, good. I thought maybe you thought I was—well, anyway—” Mars flashes me a winning smile. I’d like to do something for the guests while I’m here if I can. I know it wouldn’t be much, but maybe I can play after dinner, do a little show, you know? I haven’t played a small venue in years ,” he says.
I laugh. “The old days.”
“Exactly, don’t you ever crave it?”
I shrug. “I suppose so.”
I crave many things in life, but my career is starting to take a back burner for the first time. Even in my relationship with Mars, we both had our eyes on our separate prizes. Now, being back home in Blue Flag, I want to slow down.
I want… something softer. Less chaotic. Stable and accounted for. Something that, when I come home, I’m not looking out into the distance waiting to get back out there.
I want someone like Kade to keep me grounded.
No. I want Kade to do that.
“So, what do you think? I’ve got my guitar. I’ll do a little set. A little chat. I think they’d like it,” Mars asks further. “And if you’re up for it, you can join me for a song or two.”
I’m surprised by how nice that sounds. “I might like that.”
“Good. Good.” Mars starts to step away. “And if you could tell your bodyguard that the two of us have cleared the air, that would help things.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “Kade? Why?”
Mars chuckles. “You know how he is with you, don’t you?”
“Well, he’s protective, sure.”
“Protective. That is a word to describe him…” Mars says, continuing to back away. “Maybe not the word I was thinking, but…”
“What word, Mars?”
Mars smiles. “Oh, Gia, you don’t know it, do you?”
I furrow my brow. “What are you talking about?”
He laughs as he disappears into the common room.
You know how he is with you, don’t you?
Kade is protective, sometimes professional, sometimes parental. He cares for me, not like I care for him, surely. He’s too well-composed to decompartmentalize.
Unless…
No. Wishful thinking. Wishful thinking will make me hurt my own feelings. If I want Kade to change how he sees me, I’ll have to be the one to cross that bridge.
I have the confidence to do many things. Sing in front of thousands of people, show myself to the world and tell them I don’t care, write songs made up of my deepest thoughts.
But tell Kade I see him as more than a friend?
That’s a task so hard I’m not sure I’ll ever find the strength to do it.