December 23rd
Hollis
The start of the school’s winter break means the start of the kids being with Ryan for two whole weeks. I hate him for it, but not nearly as much as I would if I wasn’t lying in Jay’s bed.
Naked.
With him on top of me.
For the third night straight, he’s bringing to life every little piece of me I thought died with my marriage.
Especially when he puts that blessed mustache of his between my thighs and doesn’t stop working until he makes me see stars.
“Missed you,” he says, as he drops his head in my lap, the only thing either of us wearing is a blanket.
Outside the window, snow falls for the second day turning the world around the camper into a winter wonderland.
I trace his mustache. “You went to the brewery for three hours. You can’t miss me in that amount of time.”
He rumbles with a laugh that vibrates my lap. “Looks like I can.”
I hum an agreeing sound, moving my fingers from his mustache to his lips, him nibbling like he does before I move on to his jaw, then chest, then arms. All the way along him until our fingers interlace.
I don’t know if what’s travelling between us is infatuation or intense fondness, but connected like this, whatever it is grows bigger within me.
“Christmas will be different for me next year,” I tell him. “Life will be different. I’ll have my kids more. This will be complicated.”
“You will.” His thumb swirls over mine. “I like your kids.” He brings the back of my hand to his mouth and kisses it. “And at least one of them likes me.”
“She’s seven, give her time,” I tease.
I look around his camper. It’s so perfect .
. . for him. I don’t know how this works.
What comes next. How we go from me and him hiding from the holidays in our own little snow globe to being me, him, and my four kids with the holidays and a whole life outside of them.
It feels impossible. Like I’d ruin the good thing he has with boo-boos and bedtime routines. Like maybe this is all we can ever be.
“Hey,” he says, sitting up so his eyes are level with mine. “You’re upset.”
I blink to fight ridiculous tears.
“Sorry.” My voice is brittle. “I don’t know why.”
He kisses me gently. “I do.”
I sniff. “Yeah?”
His lips press into a frown. “You’re worried your kids like me more than you.”
I laugh as I poke him, making him grunt; he pulls me into his lap and kisses my temple. “Tell me what’s going on.”
I sniff, wiping my eyes. “I don’t know. I feel happy. And I like you. Like you like you.” I ignore his smirk. “And I’m worried that you’ll, I don’t kn—” A ringing phone cuts me off.
My ringing phone.
I reach across Jay to the shelf to grab it, Ryan’s name flashing across the screen making my pulse pick up its pace as I answer. He never calls. Something is wrong.
“Ryan?”
“Hollis. Hey.” He clears his throat. “Listen. The kids are crying.”
I straighten, pinching the blankets around me and gripping the phone tighter. “What do you mean crying? Is everything okay?”
Jay’s eyes narrow.
“I mean—” Ryan blows out a sharp breath. “They want you for Christmas. Maybe I shouldn’t have—” He cuts himself off. I can picture his annoyed expression and hand raking through his hair. “Maybe this schedule isn’t what’s best.”
I’ve fully stood from the bed, squeezing the blanket around my chest while my body starts to buzz with anticipation of his next words.
“What’s best?” I repeat, needing him to say it.
Jay’s standing now too, pulling his jeans up his legs, concern etching lines down his face.
“Look, I don’t know what to say, Hollis,” Ryan continues. “The kids want you for Christmas, and I’m saying I think it’s best. They’re upset. Something about special hot chocolate and matching pajamas. This was never my thing. I can drop them off first thing tomorrow. That work?”
An ornament-sized lump fills my throat.
“Yes,” I manage. Before I hang up: “Ryan?” There’s a brief silence. “Thank you.”
We end the call before I scream so loud Jay jumps. I wrap my arms around his neck and press my mouth to his through an excited squeal.
“The kids are going to be home for Christmas,” I tell him between kisses. “He’s dropping them off tomorrow.”
Jay chuckles. “Good.”
“Good,” I repeat, pressing my cheek on his chest as I absorb what this means. “Christmas Eve with them, Jay. I’ll make spaghetti and we’ll watch movies then at midnight—oh my God.” I jerk away from him. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”
He lets out another chuckle as he rubs my back. “It is.”
I drop my blanket and push away from him fully, searching for my clothes. Frantic.
“I don’t have anything ready for them.” My underwear is in the blankets; I hurry them up my thighs. “They can’t just be home on Christmas Eve with no decorations.” I snatch my jeans off the floor and shimmy into them. “I have to go.” I skip the bra and grab my sweater. “I have to get ready.”
Jay doesn’t move, he merely watches me blow around him like a tornado. “You’re leaving? It’s late—what’s there to do now?”
I guffaw. “Of course I’m leaving. I have to get ready.
I have to-to-to do everything I haven’t done for the last two months.
” I’m nearly shouting now, my mind reeling with everything that needs to be done.
Do I have enough presents? I hadn’t even considered Santa when I was shopping—that was on Ryan this year. Now it’s on me.
Shit.
I make a mental grocery list. Marshmallows, cocoa, sugar—I bump into Jay and laugh as I kiss him on the cheek. “Can you believe this is happening?”
He’s so calm right now, it’s like he doesn’t see how insane this is. Like he doesn’t know how much work there is to be done.
“Let me help you,” he offers, tugging a thermal shirt over his head.
God he’s handsome.
I shake my head, grabbing my toothbrush from the bathroom, him following me.
“No way, I wouldn’t do that to you.” Translation: Please come with me.
But I know better. Relationships haven’t worked for him because he wants life the way he wants it; I won’t push that boundary.
I refuse. Whether we have strong enough legs to walk after this season I don’t know, but me forcing him into a wrapped box under a tree today won’t be where it ends.
“Enjoy Christmas Eve with Marv the way you always do. You don’t want this chaos.
” I stop in the kitchen to peck him on the mouth.
“You have a good thing here, Jay. I’m not going to be the one to bring it down.
” I chuckle, my thoughts pulling me in a million directions.
When my eyes land on him again, he’s uncharacteristically serious. Maybe even hurt. “What’s wrong?”
He clears his throat and stuffs his hands in his jeans. “Nothing. Happy for you. I know this is what you wanted.”
I kiss him again; something is off. “Right. Well tomorrow Holiday Club meets, I can’t be there obviously, but you and Marv are going snowshoeing, right?”
He nods. I can almost feel him withdrawing. Because this is my life. Because kids make things less simple.
“Yeah.” He swallows. “And Christmas—Marv planned something this year, I forget.”
The energy of the entire camper shifts from ridiculously cheerful to terribly tense, but there’s no time to dwell on it. I barely have time to put on a coat, grab my purse, and pet the dog on my way to the door.
“I’ll call you,” I tell Jay. “When I get everything figured out.”
I kiss him one last time then open the door.
“Hollis,” he calls from the doorway when I’m nearly at my minivan. I turn and look. “I’m good with chaos.” He shrugs. “Just so you know.”
My eyes bounce from him to everything around him.
The ground covered in snow and flurries still blowing through the air.
Little piles of white stick to random crevices of the camper and the branches of bare trees like they’ve been coated in icing.
I wish I could ask him to come with me. Wish Christmas meant him and them.
I smile but feel a pang of sadness.
“Of course you are,” I say.
Then I’m gone, out his driveway and down the road, his beacon of Christmas in the woods disappearing as I go.
I replay his words the entire drive. At every red light and on every aisle in the grocery store.
It isn’t until I hear them when I’m sitting under a partridge-covered pear tree wrapping gifts that I know what he meant.