CHAPTER TWENTY
So much for the drive home not being awkward and uncomfortable. Apparently we left our effortless conversation back at the restaurant, because neither of us seems to know what to say. Five minutes into the drive, I turn the radio on and distract myself by peering into the bag on my lap—take-out containers of tiramisu, limoncello trifle, an assortment of biscotti, plus a small tub of gelato. Don doesn’t fool around when it comes to food.
When we reach my apartment, I put the leftovers in the fridge. Hugh’s guess that I’d likely have enough to last until Christmas seems accurate. My appetite has fled, so I stow the desserts except for the biscotti, which I arrange on a plate. I take my time, mindlessly fussing over the presentation as I attempt to collect my thoughts and rein in my emotions.
Hugh is across the room at the stereo, flipping through radio stations. When he finally settles on one, he asks, “Are you going to stay in the kitchen all night?”
Instead of answering, I pick up the plate of biscotti and take it to the coffee table. Hugh cocks his head toward the radio, and I realize the song has changed from an uptempo pop song to a slow one. I recognize the opening chords immediately, having heard this song approximately thirty million times in the last twenty-some years.
“Isn’t this one of your favorites?” Hugh asks quietly.
Bono’s voice joins the familiar guitar chords, crooning the opening lines of “With or Without You”. I nod silently and Hugh’s serious expression cracks just a hint, a small smile playing around his mouth.
He steps toward me, extending a hand. “Dance with me.”
The air around us feels charged as I take his hand. He wraps his other arm firmly around my waist, inching me closer until our bodies meet. I swallow hard and close my eyes, fighting a wave of emotion I can’t quite name. My head drops onto his chest as we move in slow circles, neither of us speaking. The steady sound of his heartbeat competes with Bono’s voice for most soothing sound.
“You could come with me,” Hugh says in a low rumble that echoes through his chest to my ear. My head jerks up; he appears as surprised as I feel. After a moment, he takes a deep breath and repeats, “You could come with me,” except this time it’s more of a statement than the semi-question it sounded like before.
“To Scotland?” A bubble of laughter clogs my throat. I swallow it down, knowing it would be one of those crazed-sounding cackles that tend to escape me when I’m shocked or confused.
He nods. We’ve stopped dancing, although we’re still locked in the same pose. Hugh’s warm hand is solid and comforting in mine, keeping me grounded. Grounded in the present, grounded in reality. And the reality is I have a life here. As much as I care about Hugh and would love to have a real relationship with him, I can’t leave now. Part of me wants to—longsto—but in the grand scheme of things, we hardly know each other. We’re not even an official couple. I have Bridget and Marla and Celia here, plus my career and a new job with Piper. A job that’s as close to my secret dream as I’ll probably ever get.
A sad-looking half smile flits over Hugh’s face. “Never mind. It was foolish of me to ask.”
“No,” I say quickly. “It wasn’t. I appreciate it more than you know.” The last few words come out sounding choked as I fight back tears. My eyes prickle and fill despite my best efforts to stop them, and Hugh’s face crumples. I pull my hand free from his so I can dash the tears away. “You know it’s not that I don’t want to, right? But I have obligations here, just like you have obligations in Scotland.”
I need to turn this night around, stop this moment and the sadness in Hugh’s eyes from becoming etched in my brain. “Maybe if you’re still there in the spring or summer, we can plan something. Bridget would hop on a plane back to Scotland in a heartbeat, and I’ve always wanted to go. It would help having our own personal guide, especially an authentic hot Scot.” I brush my fingers over his cheek and he finally graces me with the smile I was hoping for.
He captures my hand and holds it in place against his cheek. “I’d love that. It’d give me something to look forward to.”
“Me too.” Ugh, why is my voice all wobbly? “This is ridiculous,” I say on a shaky laugh. “You’d think it was the early 1900s and you were heading off to war or something. We can text and call and Skype each other whenever we want. I could resurrect the art of snail mail—pick up some fancy stationery and write to you, spritz the paper with my perfume before I stick it in the envelope.”
He chuckles half-heartedly. “We can do all that. We can stay in touch and plan for you to visit, but…” That ‘but’ makes my stomach drop. I’m tempted to press my finger to his lips and beg him not to finish the sentence. “I don’t know for certain when I’ll be back. If I can’t get the permits I need for the Village next year, I’ll likely stay in Scotland and simply return here for short business trips. It’s never been an issue before because I’ve never had any reason to stay in Canada other than work. I have a reason now, but it’s not as simple as moving my entire life and business here to see if we could make things work between us. I don’t want to make plans and promises I’m not certain I can keep. I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting you, Ivy.”
“Then we’ll hit the pause button from the moment you leave. We’ll talk if and when we can, and in a few months maybe we’ll plan for me to visit Scotland. Or maybe we won’t. No promises, no expectations.” That’s how our whole non-relationship has been so far anyway. It’s not the way I imagined things would be, but that’s life isn’t it? Things don’t always turn out how you expect or plan or even want. Maybe Hugh and I will be together eventually, and maybe we won’t. I can’t put my life on hold indefinitely, but Icanmanage a pause. A wait and see, at least for a while. He’s worth that.
A deep V has formed between his eyebrows. I give him a questioning look and he shakes his head. “No promises and no expectations, but…” There’s that ‘but’ again, and just like before, my stomach swoops. “We talked about being honest with each other if either of us meets someone else. If that does happen, I’ll wish you well and wallow for a bit over the lucky bugger who wins your heart.” His lips quirk, and I can’t help smiling in return. “But I want you to know I’ll do everything I can to come back. I think we could be great together.”
Now when my stomach swoops, it’s for a whole different reason. Hugh’s eyes have gone soft, his smile achingly sweet. He’s still pressing my hand to his cheek, and I raise the other one to cup his face. “I think we’d be great together too.” He lowers his forehead to rest against mine. We’ve agreed to hit pause in a little over a week, but I wish I could hit pause right now. I’d like to hold on to this moment for just a little longer.
Hugh lifts his forehead from mine and replaces it with his lips. They’re warm and gentle, and they linger for a moment before trailing down, kissing between my brows, the tip of my nose, the corner of my mouth. I wait for his lips to meet mine and when they don’t, my eyes pop open. He’s bent slightly so we’re face to face, staring into each other’s eyes.
“I wish things weren’t so complicated,” he whispers. “I wish I could—”
I press a finger to his lips, silencing him. “Do you remember the second time we met? In that alley in the Village?” He nods. “You told me to make a wish because you were Santa and Santa is magic. And that even if Santa couldn’t grant my wish, there was power in putting it out in the Universe. When I blurted out my wish—wanting something of my own—you said you’d do whatever you could to make it come true. I had no idea what you meant at the time. I’m not even sure I knew whatImeant. Then all these wonderful, unexpected things kept happening: you became part of my life, I made friends at the Village, Fiddlesticks found me, I got a job at the bookstore. I’m still figuring some things out, but my life is better. Richer. So yeah, things might be a bit complicated, but sometimes complicated isn’t the worst thing. I’m finally learning to enjoy the ride and see things don’t always have to be a certain way.”
Hugh is quiet for a moment and then he bobs his head. “You’re very wise, you know that?” he says, his eyes twinkling in a way that makes me want to laugh.
“I don’t know aboutthat, but I’m trying.” I give a little shrug, grateful the mood is beginning to lighten. Wanting to keep steering things in the right direction, I add, “I mean, Iama Ravenclaw. ‘Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure’ is our house motto at Hogwarts.”
“JK Rowling: another very wise woman,” Hugh says. He lowers his smiling lips to mine, and I sigh contentedly as we finally kiss.
What starts as a light brushing of lips quickly turns into something more. It’s the kind of intense kissing we’ve reached a few times during our couch makeout sessions, knowing things can’t go much further because of Celia’s imminent return. We don’t have to worry about Celia tonight, though.
I ease away, practically gasping for breath. Hugh’s swollen lips and glazed eyes send a jolt of lust straight to my core. “Celia’s gone for the night.”
Without a word, his mouth returns to mine, his hands skimming restlessly over my back and sides. I break away again, this time taking his hand and tugging him in the direction of the hallway that leads to the bedrooms.
