“All I wanted to do for the rest of the day was sleep. A bone-weary tiredness overcame me. Back then I thought it was the lingering effects of the flu.”
I let out a humorless chuff.
“From that morning on, it was as if something opened up inside of me. Or I became aware of a hole that had lingered inside of me for years. But I couldn’t place my finger on it or put it into words.”
“That was when you asked for the divorce,” Joel concludes.
“It took months to realize what it was, but yes. That Christmas morning was the beginning of the end. In reality, the beginning of the end was probably years before that.”
“Anway …” I push out a heavy breath and pick up my fork to eat. “When I finally bought my own place, I resolved not to do anything that I didn’t want. My children are adults and living their own lives. And while I’ve always loved the holidays, the thought of decorating again brought back unpleasant feelings of overwhelm.”
It’s a reality I never expressed out loud until now.
“I’m sorry,” Joel says, surprising me. He shakes his head, eyes on his plate, but I don’t miss the frown on his lips.
“I never thought about why you wouldn’t want to decorate for the holidays. It’s your home, you should be able to do whatever it is you want with your home.”
I consider his words as I bite a forkful of stuffing. After a moment to chew and swallow, I respond.
“I don’t feel as strongly about it anymore.”
His gaze meets mine, spark renewing in them.
From then on, we eat and talk about our respective days. I find out that the horses from Joel’s ranch have participated in the Harlington’s Christmas Fair for over a decade now.
“The kids love it,” he says, the warm expression on his face warming my own heart.
I wonder if he realizes how child-like his features become when he talks about the holidays, his ranch, or his family.
Especially his family.
Before I know it one of the restaurant’s waiters passes us with a dessert cart. There’s an assortment of desserts including chocolate cake, pumpkin and sweet potato pie. My heart instantly lights up when I see a slice of coconut cake on the serving tray.
Yet, it plummets back to Earth when Joel reaches for the cake I had my eye on. I stifle the disappointment on my face and decide to reach for the slice of sweet potato pie. But then, Joel places the plate with the coconut cake on it down in front of me.
I go to look at him, but he’s looking over at the cart again, reaching for a dessert fork to hand to me.
I take the fork with a wobbly smile before sticking it into the slice of cake and tasting it. I blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay. It’s completely ridiculous, all of this emotion bubbling up over a damn piece of cake.
“How is it?” he asks after a minute.
“Delicious. You have to try.” Before I can make heads or tails of my actions, I hold out a forkful of cake for him to try.
Joel doesn’t hesitate to lean in, his hand wrapping around my wrist, keeping my hand in place. My heart begins to beat rapidly.
He keeps his gaze locked on mine while his lips wrap around the tines of the fork. Slowly, he pulls back, tasting the cake. All the while, he keeps me trapped in his gaze.
“You’re right,” he says after swallowing. “That is delicious.”
His voice is rougher and deeper than usual.
My nipples harden against the padding of my bra.
A sense of loss washes over me when he loosens his hold on my wrist, removing his hand altogether.
I’m grateful for the reprieve of his touch for a moment while I gather myself. We finish our dessert in silence, but sneak looks at one another across the table.
“Ms. Ellyn Chamberland, would you have a dance with me?” Joel stands at the side of my chair, hand extended with a gleaming grin on his handsome face.
