Hudson dunked a carrot in hummus with a smirk. “Whatever you say, buddy.”
The leaves had started to change. The summer heat had at long last broken, ushering in progressively cooler nights and pleasant days.
“Have you ever been to the Hudson Valley?” Wes asked me.
Our hands were intertwined as I leaned against him to stare out the car window. I’d taken the middle seat, feeling the need to stay as close to him as possible.
I shook my head. “No. I’ve always wanted to. Every year, I say I want to take a writer’s retreat upstate in the fall, but it never happens.”
“We’ll go back, just you and me. There are so many artists and writers up there.” He kissed the top of my head. “It’s one of my biggest struggles with the city—how limited our access to nature is. Taking breaks to escape keeps me sane.”
I smiled, slipping into this hypothetical future with Wes to distract myself from our immediate future.
I’d artfully dodged all invites from The Circle girls, Maisy and Jayne included, continuing to lean on the very real excuse that I was stretched too thin from writing and running a business.
Which had caused an extremely irritating final text from Maisy.
Maisy
Okayyy, girl. Seems like you didn’t listen to our advice and would rather keep living life on hard mode & in your masculine energy. I don’t do low-effort friendships. Hmu if you ever evolve past the struggle mindset.
It almost made me laugh bitterly just thinking about it. I’d typed out so many angry replies, but in the end, I’d been too exhausted to respond at all.
She would never understand me, and that was okay. Especially since, after this weekend, I would never see any of them again.
Wes and I attempted to talk about anything except the weekend ahead of us for the next hour and a half, and for the most part, we managed it. It was one of my favorite parts about us—the way we could never run out of things to talk about.
Our world had shifted dramatically in the past half hour of the drive. Long gone were city streets and heavy traffic. A shiver crawled down my spine, and for the briefest moment, we were on a winding country road in Tennessee, looking out at the rolling hills and farmland. I blinked and snapped out of it.
I glanced at our stoic, professional driver. We were still in New York, just a far different New York than I was accustomed to.
“Are the holidays hard for you?” Wes asked after we debated whether fall or spring was the best season in the city.
I nodded. “I, um, typically spend them with Lorelei. Most of our friends go home for the holidays, and the one time we were invited to one of my native New Yorker friend’s Thanksgiving, Lorelei caused a drunken scene. So… yeah.” I swallowed. “It’s just us. Or just me, when she’s been whisked away to some shittyboyfriend’s family’s home. Or she’s too drunk to—well, you get it. Basically, my holidays suck. What about yours?”
Wes gave my hand a squeeze. He shook his head without speaking, as if gathering his thoughts.
Everyone loved Christmas in New York—the overpriced markets in every park, thebig tree, the lights and decorations, the ice skating, the perfect romcom atmosphere and activities all season long. Maybe I would’ve loved it all too, if things were different. If I didn’t have to babysit Lorelei or think about the family I was estranged from.
“They’re going to be better this year because you’re going to spend them with me,” Wes said.
My chest warmed, and something inside me melted. I locked onto his beautiful, certain eyes.
“But to answer your question, yeah, mine sucked for years. Since my mom passed, all the way up until the last few years, when I built my community in Greenpoint. Now, we throw a big Friendsgiving and Christmas party every year. Then, on actual holidays, I go to meetings, volunteer, and spend time with people who also have shitty holidays for one reason or another.” He smiled. “So, they’ve been better. And yours will be better this year too.”
I’d never looked forward to the holidays before. Wes kissed me as my emotions welled. His lips were gentle and steady. I relaxed as he held my face in his broad hands. When he pulled back, I was breathless.
“Okay. I’ll go look at the big tree with you,” I said softly. “But I am not ice skating.”
“Why does that just make me want to force you out on the rink?”
“Because you’re an insufferable contrarian and sadist with authority issues.”
Wes grinned, gripping my thigh hard as we launched into another round of playful sparring. After another fifteen minutes, my head was back on his shoulder as we listened to music.
“I have something for you,” Wes said, letting go of a deep breath.
I straightened back up. He reached over me for something in his duffel bag on the spare seat.
