Only You

by Marie Landry

  “Do you agree?”

  “Maybe? I guess. I’ve been single for so long, I’ve built up the image of the perfect guy and the perfect relationship in my mind. Now, without meaning to, those expectations are so high they’re completely unrealistic.” I’ve never said any of this out loud, not even to Bridget. I think it’s easier to say it here and now in this semi-dark room, being held in the arms of someone who loves me, feeling safe and secure.

  “What about your ‘hot Scot’ as Bridget calls him?”

  I smile at the mention of Hugh. “Hugh is great. And yet in a way, he’s part of the problem.”

  Marla eases me away from her and I sit up all the way, shifting to face her. She looks at me imploringly. “He hasn’t treated you badly, has he?”

  “No,” I say quickly. “No, nothing like that. It’s just things are sort of up in the air and he might be going back to Scotland after Christmas. We’ve agreed to take things one day at a time and just have fun, but it goes against everything in my nature. I’m afraid of getting in too deep and having my heart broken.”

  “If he does go, it won’t be forever, right? He’d be back?”

  “Eventually, yeah. I don’t want to do long distance, though, and neither does he.” I sigh again. “Part of me thinks no commitment would be good right now because I need to focus on myself, figure a few things out.” I don’t go into specifics about what those things are. I haven’t had a chance to talk to Bridget about where my head is at regarding my job. “The other part of me thinks I’m not built for a fling. I just want what Bridget has—a relationship I know is going somewhere.”

  “If you’re giving it this much thought, I think it’s safe to say there’s already at least some feelings involved,” Marla says. “The thing is, Ivy, there are no guarantees in life. Sometimes you have to take your pleasure where you can get it. For however long you can get it.” Her gaze drifts across the room to the mantelpiece, where a variety of framed photos sit in a neat row. At the center, the largest of them all is a picture of Marla and Mr. Higgins on their wedding day. They’re young and happy, and from the way they’re looking at each other with big goofy smiles, it’s obvious they’re madly in love.

  Guilt floods me. Here I am whining about this great guy I have in my life while Marla would give anything to have her husband back in hers. “I’m sorry, Marla. I’m being so insensitive.”

  “Nonsense.” She turns back to me and takes my hands in hers. “You’re being realistic. Nobody would fault you for that. I’m sure even Hugh himself wouldn’t fault you for that. You deserve to be happy, Ivy. You deserve to have the life you want. Just remember sometimes that life ends up being different from what you imagined.”

  She clasps my hands tighter, the movement making the faint light from across the room glint off her wedding ring. “There’s nothing wrong with having a little fun. Whether that leads to a happily ever after down the road, or whether Hugh isn’t the one, there’s no harm in enjoying the time you have with him now. You’re young and you have plenty of time to figure things out.”

  I mull that over. “Let me ask you something,” I say slowly, and she nods. “If this were Bridget—if she had come to you and said she was going to have a fling with David or another guy—would you be so casual about it?”

  She presses her lips together, and I get the feeling she’s trying not to smile. “Well,” she says at length, “I guess we’ll never know.”

  “Oh, come on!” I snatch one of my hands from hers to flick her playfully on the shoulder. “What kind of answer is that?”

  She wrinkles her nose. “An honest one. It’s not for me to approve or disapprove. If that’s what Bridget had wanted, I’d have supported her, just like I’m supporting you. You may not be my daughter by blood, but you know you’re mine in every other way.” Her light tone is undermined slightly by the wobble in her voice on the last few words. “Not everything has to be planned and not everything is set in stone. You can have a modern relationship, whatever that looks like for you. Just…just…” She averts her eyes. The light is faint in here, but I can see her cheeks are turning rosy. “Just for the love of god be careful because I’m not ready to be a grandmother yet!”

  I burst out laughing. “You don’t have to worry about that, Mama,” I tell her, the words broken by my giggles. “If things get that far, I promise to employ the ‘no glove no love’ rule.”

  Marla hops up from the couch. She shakes her head vigorously, even though she’s laughing now too. “I’m going to order pizza,” she declares, fleeing from the room.

  The occasional giggle continues to roll out of me as I flop back on the couch and elevate my right foot. I haven’t felt much pain for most of the day, which is hopefully a good sign. I hear Marla’s voice from the kitchen, so she must have called the pizza place, despite the fact Bridget and I have showed her how to order online at least a dozen times.

  As I wait, my mind replays bits and pieces of our conversation. I wouldn’t consider myself a prude by any means, but the guys I’ve had sex with in the past have all been boyfriends. I’ve never had casual sex because I’ve never dated casually. But Marla is right; I’m young and unattached. If I want to have a fling, and if that fling includes some sexytimes with the hot Scot, there’s nothing stopping me from enjoying every moment of it.

  When Marla returns, we put another movie in while we wait for the pizza to arrive. It never takes long, and once it gets here, we dig in. I’m stuffing my face with a third slice when I hear the front door open. A moment later, Bridget appears in the living room doorway, her eyes moving between us and the food spread on the coffee table.

  “Looks like I’m just in time.” She kicks off her boots and drops her overnight bag on the floor.

  “I thought you were spending the night with David,” Marla says.

  “Oh, I ditched him,” she says, waving a hand over her shoulder. “I couldn’t stand the thought of missing girls’ night. It’s been way too long.”

  “Well then get over here.” I scooch to make room for her on the couch. “You’re just in time for the best part of the movie.” Bridget squeezes in between us, placing a kiss on her mom’s cheek, then my forehead before grabbing a slice of pizza.

  We watch two more movies, stuffing ourselves with so much food I feel like I could burst. Marla falls asleep on the couch, so we cover her with a blanket and leave her there for now. Bridget helps me hobble up the stairs; I left my stuff in her room, figuring I might as well sleep there since she wasn’t.

  “I’ll take my things to the guest room,” I tell her.

  “Nah, sleep with me tonight.”

  We change into our pajamas and get settled in Bridget’s bed. I never had sleepovers growing up; my mother didn’t like having other kids spend the night, and it was never an option with my aunt and uncle. My aunt barely even wanted me having people over during the day, which was fine since I didn’t have many friends. Bridget was the first person I’d ever shared a bed with, and we’ve done it so many times over the years, it feels like I’ve made up for all the slumber parties I missed in my childhood.

  “I’ve missed this,” Bridget says into the quiet darkness.

  “Me too.”

  “I know things are changing, but I don’t want them to change too much.” She shifts toward me slightly. “I don’t ever want to stop having girls’ nights or hanging out. I don’t want to be the kind of girl who forgets about her friends—especially her best friend—because she’s in a relationship.”

  “You’re not. You wouldn’t,” I assure her. “I’m not worried about that, if that’s what you’re thinking. I miss you and I miss how things used to be, but we always knew this would happen someday. That we’d become proper grown-ups and have lives outside each other.”

  She chuckles. “True. Sometimes I feel like I’m struggling to adjust. To find a balance between work and David and Mom and you.”

  “It’ll happen. These things take time.” Her hand brushes mine, so I
hook my pinkie with hers. “I think you’re doing great,” I say around a yawn. “I’m really proud of all you’ve done in the last year.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice is faint now. We used to stay up half the night talking when we had sleepovers, but we’re both fading fast. My last thought as I slip into sleep is how full my heart feels after a much-needed night with my two closest friends.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The urge to continue being pampered is too great to resist when Marla and Bridget insist I take Monday off work. I call into Santa’s Village and talk to Meredith, telling her I won’t be able to do my assigned duty as floater elf and asking if it’s possible to do some creative rearranging so I don’t miss my shift. The Village closes after the twenty-second, which is less than three weeks away. By some twist of fate, I’ve ended up thoroughly enjoying my job there, and not only because of Hugh. Although he’s definitely a factor.

  When I arrive at the Village, Meredith informs me I’ll be Santa’s right-hand elf for the week. There’s a twinkle in her eye as she says, “Santa requested you personally. He said he’d set up a chair for you so you can hand out the wrapped books and give visitors a ‘cheery goodbye’.”

  I can’t help the grin tugging at my lips. Hugh and I haven’t told anyone at the Village about us. With this being a temporary seasonal set-up, there are no hard and fast rules about dating coworkers, as long as there’s no drama among the elves. This is a family establishment after all, and it wouldn’t be an appropriate place for open hostility or lovers’ spats. But between the fact I’m a newbie and Hugh owns this place, plus the whole ‘not labeling our relationship’ thing, we decided not to tell anyone. From the smirk on Meredith’s face, though, I guess it’s obvious something is going on between the boss and me.

  “You two make an adorable couple,” she says in a low voice.

  “Oh. Thanks.” I try not to laugh at her borderline conspiratorial tone. “That’s not what we are, though. Not really. We’re just…dating?”

  She tilts her head to one side. “Okay. Well. I’ve known him for a few years now, and I’ve never seen him date anyone. I’ve also never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

  My stomach swoops at her words. I don’t even try to fight the grin now. “That’s good to know. I think…” I shake my head. “Never mind.”

  “No, tell me,” she insists.

  I inhale deeply. Trying to avoid thoughts of any sort of future with Hugh gets harder the more time we spend together. There was something about lying in bed with Bridget last night, whispering my feelings about Hugh into the darkness as we both got sleepier and sleepier. I dreamed of Hugh, and although I can’t remember the details, I woke up feeling light and content. “I think we could be great together,” I say finally. “But he’s likely going back to Scotland after Christmas. And even though he won’t be gone forever, things between us are too new to attempt long distance, and I’m not interested in that anyway. Been there, done that, have the emotional scars to prove it.”

  Meredith smiles sympathetically.

  “So there’s a deadline on whatever we are, and I’m just trying to enjoy it while I can.” Maybe the more I say it, the more I’ll believe it.

  “That’s…a healthy and mature way to look at it,” she says.

  I laugh. “Thanks? It’s how things are, so I have to accept it.”

  “For now,” she says. I look at her questioningly and she adds, “You never know, that’s all. I’m a big believer in things happening for a reason. You ending up here, for instance. You already have a full-time job and probably never would have even come to visit the Village, let alone work here. Yet here you are. Maybe you were put here for a reason.”

  The romantic in me perks up at her words. In the last few years, I’d all but stopped believing in fate and things happening for a reason. I’d held tight to those ideas all through my teen years and college, always looking for signs, going where I felt I was being led. I was sure there was some big, cosmic plan for me, something that would make all my suffering since my parents’ deaths make sense.

  Despite never being able to completely squash what Bridget calls my ‘romantic notions’, I don’t look for signs anymore. I don’t feel like an unseen divine entity is leading me where I need to go. But Meredith’s earnest words make something shift inside me. It’s like that part of me I tucked away has seen the light and peeked its hopeful head out.

  Meredith laughs suddenly, shaking her head. “You think I’m nuts.” Before I can deny it, she says, “Whether you believe in that stuff or not, you’re here. You’re with Hugh, even if it is temporary. I’ll just say this and then we need to head out: working here has helped me believe in magic. Whether it’s that Christmassy feeling of anything being possible, or the kids with their bright, hopeful faces, I don’t know. The world doesn’t seem quite so dark once you’ve worked here for awhile.” She slings her arm loosely around my shoulders and steers me in the direction of Santa’s House. She shoots me a meaningful look as she says, “Maybe you just need to remember what it’s like to believe in Santa.”

  *****

  Since Marla drove me to work today, Hugh offers to drive Celia and me home after our shift. I feel more than a little relief when Celia informs us she’s going to Connelly’s with some of the elves. That means I can finally invite Hugh in and not worry about distractions, at least for a while.

  When we arrive at my apartment, I excuse myself to change out of my costume. Hugh performed his de-Santa routine before we left the Village, donning a pair of dark jeans and a blue and black plaid shirt over a form-fitting black tee. For a moment I toy with the idea of inviting him to undress me, but the thought is fleeting; Santa or not, I’m not sure I’m up to seducing Hugh as an elf.

  I root through my small selection of pajamas. I haven’t had to worry about anyone except Celia, Bridget, or Marla seeing me in my jammies for a long time, so my choices run more toward comfortable than sexy. I settle on a pair of loose-fitting pants with a colorful macaron design and the matching long-sleeved top. I hope Hugh can contain himself.

  In the living room, Hugh is examining my bookshelves once again. A man who loves books as much as I do; maybe I’m the one who won’t be able to contain herself. The moment he sees me, his lips lift in a soft smile. “You look good enough to eat, Miss Sima.”

  I laugh as I sit on the couch and elevate my right leg. Hugh’s brows draw together in concern. “Does your ankle hurt?”

  “Just a twinge here and there,” I tell him. “It helped being off it most of the day. Thanks for my new assignment at work, by the way.”

  “My pleasure. I like having you close.” He joins me on the couch. Before I can move my leg out of the way, he lifts it and settles my foot in his lap. “Mind if I check it?” I shake my head and he begins gently prodding my ankle and foot. He appears satisfied when I don’t wince or cry out. I expect that to be it, but he keeps rubbing. I sink back on the cushions with a sigh. His fingers return to my ankle and he says, “I should probably check the other one. For comparison, you know.” He guides my other leg up until my left foot is in his lap.

  Another sigh escapes me as he repeats the process on my other foot. I could get used to this kind of attention. His eyes connect with mine as his hands slide under the hem of my pants. My mouth goes dry when his serious, steady gaze doesn’t shift from mine. Strong, warm hands begin massaging my calf. Yep, I could definitely get used to this.

  Whether his intention was to turn me on or not, that’s what’s happening. Despite having seduction on the brain earlier and wanting to be alone with him, I have no idea how long Celia will be gone. I’d never hear the end of it if she walked in on us going at it on the couch. In an attempt to corral my lusty thoughts, I ask, “What will you do in Scotland if you have to go back?”

  His hands pause for a moment before continuing. “I have business there. Investment and real estate, similar to what I do here in Bellevue. It was my father’s business, and h
e taught me the ways of it. I have people who see to the day-to-day operations, and I delegate most of the work when I’m away so I can concentrate on things here.” His hand continues to work over my leg as he speaks, inching up bit by bit until it reaches my knee.

  The way my brain begins to go fuzzy makes me remember reading something about the knee being an erogenous zone. From the small tilt of his lips, I have a feeling he knows exactly the effect he’s having.

  “I have family there, as well,” he says. “My sister Clarabel and one of my best mates from school have been a couple for some years now. They keep me busy when I’m not working.”

  His fingers slide around to the back of my knee and an involuntary gasp escapes me. I swallow hard as his hand slides up my thigh. The loose pajama pants were a good call. I bet he could reach all the way…my thoughts jutter to a halt as his hand glides around to the inside of my thigh and stops. I’m practically panting. It takes everything in me not to squirm. His gaze is as much of a physical weight as his hand on my thigh. It penetrates me, takes my breath away.

  “Hugh.” His name sounds like a desperate gasp. My body moves without permission from my brain, my hips lifting slightly off the couch. His hand inches higher on my thigh, and then withdraws entirely. I’m about to voice my displeasure when he rises to kneel on the couch so he’s hovering over me. I reach up and lock my arms around his neck, shifting so his body is between my legs. He lowers himself until he’s lying on top of me, his weight supported on his forearms on either side of me.

  I draw him down until our lips meet in a hungry kiss. I’ve never kissed someone with this much urgency before, never wanted someone the way I want Hugh. Sensations throughout my body are magnified—the flushed, almost feverish feeling heating my skin, the ache between my legs, the desire to bring him closer until our bodies merge. My senses are on high alert. Which is probably why I’m able to hear the jingle of keys before they’re inserted in the front door.