Stuck With You: A Christmas Romance

by Lara Swann

  I grin at him, and he laughs. At least that should help reassure him about your intentions, too.

  “Oh, of course—that’s what you wanted my photos for, wasn’t it?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, I’ll send you what I have.” He says, smiling. “Although I can’t promise I had dating profile in mind when I was taking them.”

  “That’s why I wanted that personalized photo shoot.” I point out.

  “Mm, that’s really not my specialty.” He says, his eyes dancing with amusement as he watches me.

  “You’d still probably get a better result than my selfies.” I say, enjoying the easy banter about it, even as I grimace at the thought of actually going through with it all. Dating is hard. “Can’t say I’m looking forward to any of it though. Those dating apps are brutal, and dating in New York City…gah, it feels like everyone is far too eager to move on at the first sign of any difficulty. There are just too many options nowadays for anyone to stick around and try to make something work.”

  I’m quite not sure why I’m venting my frustrations about that to him, but they come out anyway. I guess it’s all been been lurking in the back of my mind for a while now, and Tristan is so easy to talk to…

  “Is it like that in California, too?” I ask, looking over at him in curiosity as I try not to make this all about me.

  “I wouldn’t know.” He says simply, shrugging. “I’ve never really tried.”

  “Dating apps?”

  “Dating.” He clarifies, and I blink.

  Wait, what?!

  He obviously sees that in my expression, because his mouth curves up into a small smile as he looks at me.

  “I work too much.” He explains. “It’s too much to try to keep up a relationship when I travel all over the place to write and take photographs for the magazine - and even when I’m in San Diego, I spend most of my time at the office. It’s not the kind of career or life that lends itself to settling down in the way most women want and the few times I tried ended up in constant drama - until I’d eventually call the whole thing off.”

  “Oh.” I say, slightly stunned and immediately feeling bad for him. “Shit, Tristan—”

  “I don’t mind.” He says, with a smile that says he genuinely seems to mean it. “If I’m honest with you, I’ve never really seen the appeal, anyway. I was brought up by a single woman who gave me everything I needed, and she never seemed bothered that she didn’t have a partner to do that with. I could probably still have kids in the same way, if I wanted to and was willing to give up enough of my job for it, and as for the rest…well, I won’t deny the perks of this week have been glorious, but in the long term? It just doesn’t work. Not for me.”

  “Oh, okay. Yeah, fair enough.” I say, still trying to get over my shock and react in a semi-decent manner, but at least he doesn’t seem to mind it.

  I can understand what he’s saying - especially when I think about how he grew up - but the whole idea is so alien to me that it still takes me a few moments to process it. And I can’t help the small, silly regret that goes along with that, too.

  Oh, how the world is missing out.

  I feel like I can think of a dozen women who would jump at a relationship with a man like him, however much he wanted to travel or work, but mostly that’s just my monkey-brain making a whole load of assumptions - entirely based on a week that’s so far detached from reality as to be impossible, too - and projecting my own values.

  Just because you’ve always wanted a stable, long-term relationship…a partner to share your life with…doesn’t mean that’s right for everyone. If Tristan doesn’t think it’s right for him, well, he’s the best person to make that judgment.

  “Well.” I say, as I finally get my errant thoughts under control and raise my glass of champagne to him and smiling, wanting him to know that I fully support his choices, however different they are from my own. “To exploring new places, then.”

  “And to finding love.” He responds, clinking his glass against mine as he meets my eyes—and for a moment, my heart skips.

  I tilt the glass back in a shaky hand to cover it, almost draining the champagne in an effort to get myself back under control.

  What the hell is wrong with you tonight, Lauren?

  I guess the end of this vacation really is taking its toll on me. Usually that only hits me with a bit of melancholy about the thought of going back to work…but then, this really has been an exceptional vacation.

  “It’s not long until midnight now.” Tristan says, and I glance up at the clock to see he’s right. “We should probably think about heading up the hill if we want to see those fireworks.”

  “Right. Yeah, of course.” I say, smiling again, relieved to have something else to think about.

  We open the last bottle of champagne and refill our glasses - and I’m almost relieved when I’m a little unsteady on my feet as I get up. Maybe I’ve just had a little too much to drink tonight. That would explain it.

  Tristan steadies me, then turns me in toward him and kisses me softly, his tongue running over my lips. I sigh as I melt against him, that kiss somehow making everything right, as all the uncertainty of my overactive mind fades away. By the time he slowly pulls away, it’s not the alcohol making me unsteady anymore.

  We pull our winter gear on, adding extra layers for the chill of the night, and then take our glasses of champagne before leaving the cabin. The cold hits me straight away, but it’s a refreshing blast, waking me up a little and getting me excited all over again for the New Year’s display we’re about to see. Tristan shines a torch on the path in front of us - he’s actually got a real one, not just a phone - and we make our way up without stumbling, or even spilling a little of the champagne.

  By the time we get to the top I’m in high spirits again, and Tristan turns the torch off to wrap one arm around my shoulder. I lean into him appreciatively, enjoying the sturdy feel of his body beside mine, even if the body warmth is buried too deeply to notice. I’m not cold enough to need it anyway, with too many layers on to feel anything but snug and happy.

  “Sorry we’re not going to know when to start the countdown.” He says, his voice puffing out in front of him. The moon and stars are bright tonight, and now that the torch is off, my eyes are gradually starting to adjust to the darkness. “But it should be midnight any moment now.”

  “It’s more of a thrill this way—waiting for the first firework to start.” I say, the excitement starting to seep into my voice. I grin, even though he can’t see it. “It’s almost the New Year!”

  Tristan laughs, leaning down to kiss the top of my woolen hat. “I love how enthusiastic you get about—”

  “Look—there—” I point, as a stream of light goes up in the sky over Aspen, followed almost immediately by a loud bang and then a ring of sparks. Several more trail it and then, in moments, it feels like the whole sky lights up.

  “Happy New Year, Lauren.” Tristan says, raising his glass of champagne towards me as I grin in delight.

  “Happy New Year, Tristan!” I repeat gleefully, clinking my glass against his and taking a sip of champagne as we link arms, the fireworks exploding around us.

  I’ve barely finished my champagne when Tristan pulls me into him, kissing me passionately under the colorful sky, with bangs, pops, and whistles surrounding us. I moan, surrendering into his arms and kissing him back with everything I have, our tongues tangling together as we get swept up entirely in the moment.

  “We’re missing the display.” I murmur, laughing slightly in between kisses.

  “I’m not sure I care.” Tristan says, his deep voice going all the way through me, but he backs off enough for us to look up at the sky again, turning so that he’s standing behind me and holding me in his arms as we do.

  It feels perfect. Just like everything about this moment.

  If we could just stay here, like this, forever…

  “Here.” Tristan says, drawing my attention back to the
hand he’s just removed from his pocket. “I got something for you.”

  I blink, confused, looking at the rectangular box he’s holding in front of me for a moment before it clicks. “I—Tristan, you didn’t have to—I really meant what I said—”

  “I know.” He kisses the top of my head again, his other hand grasping my own in our gloves. “But I wanted to.”

  I smile despite myself, warmth filling me. The fireworks are still going on overhead, and between that and the moon, it’s enough to see by as I lift the lid off…to reveal a necklace glinting in the light, a silver snowflake with stones sparkling at the edges.

  “Ohh, Tristan…” I say, bringing it closer to see it better. “This is gorgeous.”

  “Just like you, then.” He says, making me laugh, even though it doesn’t sound like he’s teasing.

  He pulls off his gloves despite the cold, taking it out of the box and deftly setting it around my neck. I hold it up in front of me in my palm, unable to stop smiling.

  “Thank you—really, it’s lovely.”

  The perfect memory of this vacation.

  “Thank you.” He murmurs instead, turning me around in his arms and cupping my cheek in his now-bare hand. “For everything. This has been a wonderful vacation…better than I ever could have hoped for.”

  I get a pang at that, both from the sentiment echoing my own feelings…and the thought that this is the end of it.

  “I wish we didn’t have to go back to reality.” I murmur.

  “We still have tonight.” He says, his dark eyes reflecting the fireworks behind me and glinting with a warmth of their own. “We don’t need to think about that yet.”

  I smile, leaning in as he kisses me once again—and this time, we don’t break it off to watch the remainder of the fireworks.

  I can see fireworks anytime. Tonight is all about Tristan.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lauren

  Once I get back to New York City, reality intrudes on the dreamy-enchanted state that I existed in while in Aspen, washing over me in a wave and quickly sucking me back into the chaos of everyday life and all my usual routines. It’s not quite as jarring as I’d feared - I feel more refreshed and rejuvenated from the time away than I ever could have hoped for - but within weeks, that time in Aspen starts to feel like a blissful, distant fantasy.

  A bright, beautiful memory that’s enough to carry me through the occasional irritations of daily life, but something that exists in its own time and place, and would be impossible to recapture. I still wish I could be back there from time to time - or, sometimes, daily - but I can savor it for what it was, and not let those fantasies distract me too much.

  Instead, I focus on the plans I always had for this year: to rebuild my life.

  I make sure to everyone in my family over the next few weeks, and repair the small amount of damage done from missing the holidays with them, which is a lot easier than I expect. It only seems to take a few stories from my vacation - the stunning vistas, the beautiful town and cabin, the open fire…and yes, a comment or two about Tristan - to convince them that I was right about going all along.

  Hannah says that’s partly because everyone can tell how much happier I seem now, but it’s also probably because no one wants to start any drama in the run-up to her wedding - and everyone is distracted enough by that that they don’t really mind what I’m doing, anyway. At her prodding, I share a few pictures of Tristan as well as everything else, and allude to what a great time we had together, but I don’t tell them much more than that. Those memories are just for me.

  I bite the bullet and reach out to some of my friends, too, to start trying to fix the fragile mess that my split with Greg left all of that in - and I’m both surprised and touched by the warm response I get. While the group as a whole seems to have fractured and split, with the wider gatherings subsiding, I start seeing several of them individually again and I’m amazed how much better I feel for doing it.

  I’m sure that they’re still seeing Greg too, but the idea of that doesn’t seem to bother me anymore - and as I realize that, it feels like a weight I didn’t know was there finally starts lifting from my chest.

  I really am over him. Well and truly over him. Even the lingering angst and feeling of injustice…is finally gone.

  He simply…doesn’t matter anymore.

  It’s a truly liberating feeling.

  Even returning to work doesn’t seem to drag as much as I was expecting - instead, I’m just grateful that they let me rearrange the vacation time I’d initially booked off for my honeymoon, so that I could have the full two weeks off over the holidays and all that time in Aspen. I dive into the projects I left behind with renewed vigor, and even enjoy the initial flurry of emails with a couple of new authors about their books, too.

  Maybe some of Tristan’s passion for his job has rubbed off on me, after all that time together.

  From the messages and pictures I get of the different events he visits, he’s obviously completely absorbed in all that again, too.

  We’ve started exchange messages fairly regularly now - and it’s not at all weird like I thought it might be. I don’t know why I was ever worried about it. If anything, it feels familiar and comforting - a nice reminder of all the times we shared together - and there’s something nice about having a friend so far removed from my day-to-day life that I can just vent and talk about anything I like, without worrying about what I’m saying.

  In fact, it doesn’t really feel any different from when we were together, except for…you know…without the fucking.

  Although sometimes the flirting and banter starts to get pretty close…

  I guess after the vacation we had, you can’t expect that kind of sexual chemistry to just disappear…and I’m not about to complain. It makes for a fun diversion, and I can’t help the smile that comes to my face whenever my phone buzzes with a message from him. Even if it is rather…distracting…

  Especially when that’s exactly what I’m looking for.

  I’m lying on the couch hoping for just that sort of excuse to avoid getting ready to go out for a little longer, when a series of photos come in that I just have to respond to. Even by his usual standards - which I’ve gotten used to by now - and the exciting activities he’s shared with me before, they’re impressive.

  Plus, he has an impeccable sense of timing.

  There are huge crowds of people and everything about the scene is filled with color - the clothes, the streamers, the banners - in a carnival-like atmosphere. It looks stunning.

  Tristan: So, this was my day. How’s yours been?

  I have to laugh. Bastard. The more of these he sends, the harder it is not to get jealous…

  Me: Not nearly as interesting. Where are you today? What’s going on there?

  Tristan: It’s the Mardi Gras festival in New Orleans. Been a pretty spectacular day.

  Me: Looks like it. Wow. How come you’re not still out there?

  I can’t imagine an event on that scale not going on late into the night.

  Tristan: Recovering in my hotel room. It’s been an exhausting few days.

  Me: I’m sure. So…New Orleans, huh? I’ve always been curious about that place.

  Tristan: Yeah, it’s immense. Hard to tell how much of it is because of Mardi Gras and how much is just the city itself, but…it’s an experience. I’d recommend it.

  Me: Is this your first time there?

  Tristan: Yeah.

  Me: Whoop! That’s another one down, then. Two new places already and it’s only February. You’re going to have to aim higher with those New Year’s resolutions.

  Tristan: Hah. Well, I haven’t been abroad yet - that’s always the hard one.

  Me: Still doing better than I am.

  Tristan: No luck yet on the dating apps? Those pictures I sent across not working out as expected?

  I hesitate. In truth, I haven’t activated the account yet, but I’m not sure I want to admit that to him…or try t
o explain it. I’ve got the profile all written out and it’s just waiting for me to push the button…so I don’t know exactly why I haven’t yet. It’s not from any remaining hang-ups over Greg, I’m sure of that much.

  Me: Nah, not many hits at all actually. Should have given me that personal photo shoot after all.

  I send back, opting to continue the light banter instead, even as I try to work out why I’m hesitating.

  Maybe it’s just because trying to date again feels like so much effort, and I haven’t quite geared myself up for it yet - maybe I’m waiting for it to feel fun in the way I want it to. I should probably just bite the bullet and do it, though…at least if I want company for Hannah’s wedding.

  Which I’m not entirely sure I do.

  The idea of bringing some random guy I’ve only known for a couple of months to my sister’s wedding doesn’t exactly fill me with enthusiasm. Sure, the company might be nice, but I don’t know whether it would make me feel more weird about the whole thing - like I’m trying too hard, just because of what happened with Greg last year. Is that really the memory of her day that I want to have?

  Although it might be nice to have the option, just in case I do want it, in the end.

  I could always take a friend, though - or just go alone. There’s nothing wrong with being there by myself…and who knows, I might even meet someone that way, then I could avoid the dating apps altogether. I’m feeling much better about the whole thing now, anyway - yet another bonus of having a few weeks away to clear my head. Now that Hannah is fully into the last-minute panic stage and we’re arranging all the final details, I can actually be around to help her through it without even thinking about my own disappointment last year. I’ve probably got Tristan to thank for a lot of that ‘clearing my head’ too.

  I glance back down at my phone with that thought, smiling as I notice his next message and glad to get away from the conversation about dating.

  Tristan: Well, if I do come to New York City sometime, maybe you can convince me.