That’s mean.
Sorry, but you should stick to your day job.
I attempted to decorate a star and a bell, but when I finished, they both looked similar. Two blobs covered in frosting.
Merrick giggled. “They’re notthatbad.”
“You have to say that ‘cause you’re my mate.”
“I do.” He shook with laughter, and I joined him. My efforts were a disaster, but we were together, and I guessed we were having fun.
My cookies were like tragic accidents, but I licked the frosting off my fingers, and it was good. Instead of cookies with frosting, mine were frosting with cookies.
Chef Jerry stopped by and asked how we were doing.
“My mate is a natural, whereas I’m a disaster.”
He pressed his lips together, and I felt sorry for him, trying to suppress a laugh. “Why don’t you try a round cookie? That’ll be easier than the intricate shapes.”
Merrick put a cookie in front of me and suggested I had tiny dots for the eyes and nose and a line for the mouth. I could handle three blobs and a line. The line wasn’t straight, and the eyes were kinda wonky, but it looked like a face of maybe a snowman.
Merrick nodded, and I told him to tell me the truth. “Ummm, he looks as though he’s worried about climate change.”
We both giggled, and other people in the room dissolved into laughter too.
“My work here is done. Now I’ll watch you decorate.”
But Merrick put a star on the bench and said he’d guide me. With his chest pressed against my back and his breath against my ear, we created an outline together before filling it in.
“See, you did it. That wasn’t so hard.”
“Only with your help, my love.” I kissed him on the lips, and there were sighs and awwws from the other participants.
“Next year we’ll do gingerbread houses,” Merrick announced as we carried our creations to the cabin.
“Great.” I had a whole year to prepare.
We’d created our first Christmas tradition, and I was looking forward to making many more.
11
MERRICK
Our week in the mountains raced by. It felt like we’d only just arrived, and suddenly, we were going home. They say it’s always better to leave before you’re ready than to wish you were gone, but I’d have loved to test that theory.
We were headed back to the real world, to our jobs and our lives. No longer would it be the two of us spending every waking moment together, enjoying our new bond and forgetting about the world around us. I didn’t want to go home, and I didn’t want King to go home, but here we were, driving down the mountain and back to reality.
Not wanting to end our time together on a sour note, I slapped on a happy face and pretended like everything was great. It wasn’t like King wasn’t going to be in my life after we said goodbye. He was still mine and I was his.
We were still new, and while I understood that shifter relationships went a mile a minute, I wasn’t a shifter. From my perspective, it was all going at warp speed. And that was the only thing that held me back when we parted ways.
I walked into my apartment and looked around, waiting for the sense of being home to settle in. I was a homebody and would always be one. Usually when I was gone for more than a normal work shift, I came home and felt like I was finally where I belonged. Today, that wasn’t the case.
This place, the one that held my belongings, wasn’t home anymore. King was, and he was driving back to his own place. It took everything I had in me not to call him and ask him to come back. I hadn’t been here five minutes and already I missed him terribly.
I stood at the window, trying to convince myself to let King be. He needed to go home and get things situated so he could slide back into his daily routine in the morning. He didn’t need my guilt trip. Not that I’d intend for it to be one, but that was how it would come across.
As I watched the flurries fall, my resolve slowly crumbled. I was about to call him, to ask him to come back, when he pulled into the parking lot of my crappy apartment.
