“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 withoutconsulting 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 featuresbutternut 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.
