Now, what would prompt him to call me a couple of days after he asked another woman to marry him? My skin burns with anger, but something else twists inside me. A sick sense of satisfaction that, after all this time, he’s still thinking about me. I hope he thinks about me for the rest of his life. I hope when he’s with her, he’s thinking about how perfect I was for him — how I changed parts of myself to fit into his world. Something I bet she refuses to do.
I blink away from my phone and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
This is foolish.
Feeling like this after all this time is foolish.
My gaze drifts to the gentle flurries of snow floating to the ground. Eleven months out of the year, I’m fine. Happy, even. Then December comes, and it’s like someone’s stuck theirfingers in a barely healed wound. The soreness of it lasts all month, and when it’s finally over, I can breathe again.
Nicholas wades into my vision, picking his knees up high as he trudges deeper into the small hills of snow in the backyard. He’s dressed in all black, from the beanie covering the short crop of curls on his head to the snow boots protecting his feet. I drink up his silhouette. He’s handsome in the face, but damn, that body is fit.
He crouches, raising the camera to his eye and watching…something.
My skin burns for another reason as I find myself wanting to be the center of his attention — wondering what it feels like to have him trained on me so intently, as something worthy of freezing time for.
I swallow, forcing my gaze away as I finish getting ready for the day’s activity. He has no idea how much I need this, whatever this is between us. For the remaining nine days, I get to feel at least an echo of the way Christmas used to feel. A talent, it seems, unique to him.
I head over to the barista and order my usual, a mocha latte with their homemade cookie butter syrup and extra chocolate drizzle.
“Ahh,” Nick says, sounding like he’s on the brink of laughter. He knocks the snow off his boots before entering. When I turn to face him, determined not to let a smile take over the glare on my face, I’m hit with something warm and sticky blooming in my stomach. His eyes seem to change colors when they connect with mine, brightening just the tiniest bit with a smile.
My cheeks flush, and I take an eager sip of my coffee to help me keep my cool.
“Came to get your daily dose of pre-diabetes?” His energy has this ability to snuff out everything else in a room.
My mouth betrays me, letting the tiniest smile slip as I blink up at him.
“Let me get a hot chocolate,” he nods to the barista. “Please.”
“Wow. Leaving your psychopathy behind?” I tease.
“What can I say?” He responds dryly. “You’ve inspired me.” He looks down at me, a smirk on his lips begging to be chased away with a kiss.
Who would willingly leave this man?
Who would willingly leave you?
The voice in my head rings like an alarm. I turn away, walking to the table and sitting at the end farthest from him. It’s like, I can’t escape.
I sigh. How far gone must I be to want to escape from myself?
“Excited for today?” He asks, approaching me cautiously as if he can sense the sudden shift in my energy.
I rest my head in my hand as I look over at him. His presence is oddly comforting. “I haven’t been ice skating in years, so…yes.”
His eyebrows jump as he nods his acknowledgment.
“Shocked?” I ask, taking another sip of my latte.
“A little, yeah,” he chuckles.
I offer him a curious smile. “Why?”
His shoulders rise and fall casually as he mirrors my smile, almost as though he can’t help himself. My pulse flutters. “You kind of have this Scrooge vibe going. I know you say you usedto love Christmas, but it seems like you’re just waiting for it to end.” He says.
I smile a frown into my coffee, not knowing where to begin in response to that.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m kind of into it,” he adds.
