by Marie Landry
“You’re not upset?”
“Why would I be upset? It’s not like you have any control over it.”
I set the sweater on the back of the couch. Even just holding it is making me itchy. “I don’t think you’ll be able to return it.”
She waves me off. “It’s fine. I’ll keep it for myself and be sure not to wear it around you.” This sets her off again, although she reins it in quickly this time. “I saw something else I think you’d like, so I’ll get you that instead.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I say quickly. I don’t want her spending her hard-earned money on me, especially since she’ll be starting school soon.
Her smile morphs from one of mirth to a sweetness I’ve only seen once or twice before. “I want to.”
*****
The party is much more emotional than I expected. Everyone is in good spirits, but there’s a lot of reminiscing and hugging and promises to see each other in the new year.
Even though we’ve all been to Connelly’s together before, it’s strange seeing my coworkers in regular clothes. It’s even stranger to realize I’m going to miss my elf costume and Celia’s garish Grooge costume, although I won’t miss finding traces of green face paint all over the apartment.
Hugh sticks close to me all night. By now, everyone from the Village knows we’ve been together the last few weeks. I get a few sympathetic hugs and gentle fussing from some of my female coworkers. I’m reminded at least three different times that I’m strong and everything will be okay. They mean well and I’ll likely never see them again, so I don’t bother telling them I already know I’ll be okay.
The one person I’m certain I’ll stay friends with is Meredith. She touches base with me throughout the evening, making sure I always have a drink and dragging me off to dance a few times.
“You’re my favorite of all the new elves,” she informs me at one point while we’re on the dance floor. She’s extra lovey tonight, likely a result of the seemingly bottomless red cocktail she’s been imbibing. She drapes herself over me, kissing me loudly—and wetly—on the cheek. “We’ll stay friends, won’t we? This won’t be just a flash in the pan friendship, right?”
“We’ll definitely stay friends.” She wobbles when she straightens, so I hook my arm around her to hold her up. “I have your number and you have mine. I promise we’ll get together in the new year.”
“I want to join your book club when it starts,” she slurs, her smile bordering on goofy and making me want to laugh. “And I’ll stop by the bookstore whenever I can. You and Piper won’t be able to get rid of me.”
I give her a squeeze. “I appreciate that.”
The song changes to a slow one. Instead of leaving the dance floor like I expect, Meredith throws her arms around me and we start to sway. I catch amused looks from people around us, including Hugh, who’s off to the side talking to someone I don’t recognize.
“You’ll be okay without Hugh, right?” Meredith asks.
“Of course,” I say automatically. “We’ve only known each other for less than two months and we made sure things didn’t get too serious.” Or at least he did.
Meredith pulls back, gripping my elbows and continuing to sway to the music. “I don’t think I believe you,” she says, scrutinizing me with narrowed eyes. Her gaze shifts past me and settles on something—or someone. “And if he told me the same thing, I don’t think I’d believe him either.” Before I can say anything, her eyes return to mine, and they’re clearer than they were a moment ago. “Just remember what I keep telling you: everything happens for a reason. If it’s meant to be, the Universe will make sure you end up back in each other’s paths.”
I simply nod, unsure how to respond. The song ends and she gives me another sloppy kiss on the cheek before drifting away to a nearby group. I make my way through the other dancers to Hugh, who’s now standing alone.
“Should I be jealous?” he asks, his eyes sparkling with mirth.
“Maybe,” I say, nudging him with my shoulder. “Meredith is pretty hot.”
His eyes widen and he lets out a surprised laugh. Instead of responding, he gathers me in his arms and presses a lingering kiss to my lips.
I sigh when he releases me. “Not as hot as you, though. And I bet she can’t kiss like that.”
He laughs in that low, rough way I’ve come to love over the last few weeks. I can’t believe this is our last night together. We have a finite amount of time for more kisses, more laughter, more touches. The thought makes me swallow hard and avert my eyes.
He must either sense my sudden shift in mood or be thinking along the same lines because he bends and says quietly, “Do you want to get out of here?” His lips brush my ear as he speaks, his warm breath sending shivers through me.
“Don’t you have to stick around ’til the end? They’re your friends and employees after all, and they won’t get to see you for awhile.”
“They know I’m leaving early in the morning.” His eyes bore into mine, saying so much more than his words can. “Just give me a minute to say goodbye, and we’ll head out.”
I nod and watch him stride across the room. He speaks to the DJ, and a moment later the music stops and she hands Hugh a microphone.
“Hello everyone,” Hugh says, raising his almost-empty glass of whiskey, which he’s been nursing most of the night. “I wanted to say a quick thank-you to all of you for making this holiday season at Santa’s Village the best one yet. Whether you’re a returning member of our team or a new one, I want you to know I’ve valued your time and the care you put into your job. Santa’s Village wouldn’t be what it is without all of you.”
He pauses when the crowd applauds. I sense someone approach me and assume it’s Meredith, especially when a gentle arm snakes around my waist. It’s Celia, though. Her lips twist in a bittersweet smile.
I look away quickly, my eyes stinging. I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry.
Hugh clears his throat. “As many of you are aware, the fate of the Village is up in the air at the moment. I’m working hard with my attorneys and certain members of city council to overturn their decision not to grant me the permits required to make the Village a year-round amusement park. I’m not sure what the new year will bring, but I promise I’ll do my best to ensure that those of you who want to return next year will have a place to return to. Thank you again, and please be sure to find Kristal on your way out because she has your bonus checks.”
Excited gasps and murmurs ripple through the room. Hugh raises his glass high, nods to the crowd, and downs the last mouthful of whiskey before handing the microphone back to the DJ.
“I’m going to spend the night with Peri,” Celia says to me, raising her voice to be heard as the music starts up again.
“You don’t need to do that, Ce,” I say.
“It’s okay. You guys go back to the apartment and enjoy your last night together.” She gives me a quick hug, pulling away before I can even wrap my arms around her in return. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll be home as early as I can tomorrow.” She knows Hugh is leaving before the sun even rises in the morning.
Pressing my lips together, I simply nod. She returns the gesture and walks away. She intercepts Hugh on his way back to me and they talk for a minute, then hug. She attempts to pull away as quickly as she did with me, but Hugh wraps his arms around her and holds her for several beats. Finally, she rises on her tiptoes and puts her arms around him. I swear when he releases her, she wipes at her eyes.
I. Will. Not. Cry.
Several other people stop Hugh, and more hugs—many of them tearful—are exchanged before he reaches me again. He waves to someone over my shoulder and his assistant appears, handing me an envelope emblazoned with the Santa’s Village logo in one corner and my name handwritten in the center.
“Merry Christmas, Ivy,” Kristal says, patting my shoulder. “I hope to see you again next year.” And with that, she gives Hugh a cheeky salute and disappears in
to the crowd.
“Shall we?” Hugh asks. I stare at the envelope, resisting the urge to rip it open right this second. Employees get a Christmas bonus every year at Quest, but I never thought Village employees would get one. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, considering how generous Hugh is and how well he treats his employees. He extends his arm to me and I loop mine through it, letting him lead me from Connelly’s.
We spend the drive back to my place rehashing the party. All serious subjects are avoided, as is any mention of him leaving. The minute we get inside my apartment and close the door, our mouths connect. I’m not sure who initiates it, but I know we both feel the same urgency, the same electric desire.
Hugh breaks away first, breathless. “I had thought we’d have a romantic evening, maybe open a bottle of wine, light some candles. But I need you, Ivy.”
Rather than answer with words, I tug my shirt off and toss it on the floor. He cups the back of my neck with one big, warm hand and pulls me to him, kissing me deeply. Without breaking contact, I begin leading us to my bedroom. We remove each other’s clothes as we go, leaving them where they land. I’ll have to remember to collect everything in the morning so Celia doesn’t come home to a trail of clothes.
We fall onto my bed, laughing breathlessly as our bare limbs tangle together. I’ll have days and weeks and months to examine my feelings for Hugh when he’s gone. Tonight is for this—hungry kisses and roaming hands and the gentle slide of skin on skin. Tonight is about Hugh and me, and nothing else.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I awake the next morning feeling like I’ve just run a marathon, climbed a mountain, and then decided to swim across Lake Ontario. My body is sore in that delicious post-crazy-night-of-wild-sex way, and my eyelids feel as if they’re weighted down with sandbags.
When I finally manage to pry my eyes open, I’m confused. The room is nearly pitch dark; it’s still nighttime. Not taking time to contemplate what might have woken me, I turn, reaching for Hugh. I may be exhausted and my body may feel like it’s been through the wringer, but that doesn’t mean I’m too tired for—
My hand hits cool sheets and my eyes pop back open. I shove myself into a sitting position, squinting as I peer around the room.
“I’m here.” Hugh’s soft voice comes from the doorway. A sigh of relief nearly knocks the air out of me. The relief flees when I see he’s fully dressed. Faint light from the living room casts a halo around him, making me wonder for a moment if I’m dreaming.
“What are you doing?” I croak.
He enters the room and turns on my bedside lamp before sitting beside me. I fumble for his hand and he takes mine in both of his. “I need to leave in a few minutes. I didn’t want to wake you. Thought it might be easier for you not to have to watch me get ready, knowing I’m…well…”
I swallow hard. My brain is still foggy and it’s making it hard to grasp what he’s saying. “You’re leaving now?”
“Aye.” His voice is tired, sad. He frees one of his hands from mine to scrub it over his face. It makes a rasping sound that seems loud in the otherwise silent room. “There’s no easy way to do this, Ivy. No easy way to say goodbye. I warred with myself how to do it, how to make this less painful, and finally decided it would be easier not to prolong it.”
“But I wanted to wake up with you.” My voice sounds childlike and my lip is wobbling. “Wanted to make you breakfast a-and…” I trail off, snapping my mouth shut. I sound pitiful even to my own ears. I know this hurts him as much as it hurts me, and I don’t want to make him feel worse.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I shake my head quickly. The motion sends tears splashing down my face. “Don’t be. I understand. You’re right about there being no easy way to do this.” I inhale deeply, filling my lungs and trying to gather myself. I can fall apart later. “Thank you for everything. These last few weeks have been…I couldn’t have asked for…”
“Me too,” he says when I don’t continue. “Me too.” He closes the small distance between us and covers my mouth with his. I taste toothpaste mixed with salty tears and wonder if they’re only mine. “I have something for you,” he says when he pulls away. He takes a wrapped package from the nightstand and hands it to me. “I was going to write ‘From Santa’ and put it under your tree, but I thought Fiddlesticks might try to claim it for herself.”
I let out a watery laugh. He motions for me to open it, so I do. The light is faint, but I can still see it’s a copy of Anne of Green Gables. I’ve never seen this edition before; between the cover and the binding, I’m guessing it’s old.
“I thought I’d add to your collection.” He reaches out and catches a tear before it falls from my cheek onto the book. I didn’t even realize I was crying. “The perks of being friends with a bookseller. I had Piper help me search, and she thought you’d like this one best.” He flips the cover open and points to a blue sticky note inside. “It seemed blasphemous to write in such an old book, but my parents always said when you give a book as a gift, you have to inscribe it.”
I hold it closer to the lamp so I can read it. For Ivy, a true kindred spirit. You’re stronger and wiser and more beautiful than you know. Thank you for the last two months. Love, Hugh
I’m going to choke on the lump in my throat. I suck air in around it and set the book aside so I can launch myself into his arms. He catches me, holding on tight, murmuring soft words as I cry all over him. It’s like floodgates have opened and my promise not to make him feel worse has been swept away by the current. I can’t help it; the tears come and when I try to stop them they just flow harder.
He cups the back of my head with one hand and rubs my back with the other. Over my sniffles and quiet sobs, I hear him swallow hard a few times. I’m pretty sure he’s crying now too, which makes me feel even worse.
My eyes settle on the digital clock behind him and I gasp, pushing away. I’m a snotty, tear-soaked mess. This is so not the image I wanted to leave him with. “You’re going to be late.” I shove at him to get up so I can crawl out of bed. He holds me in place. “You still have to get back to your apartment and get your luggage and—”
“Ivy, it’s fine,” he says. “I have time. I need to make sure you’re okay before I go.”
I clench my jaw so tight I fear my teeth might crack. Gathering every last shred of willpower and dignity and self-preservation, I say, “I’m fine. Or at least I will be fine. I promise.”
Despite appearing uncertain, he lets me pass him this time when I move to get off the bed. He follows me out to the living room. Fiddlesticks is perched on the back of the couch, her eyes glowing in the semi-darkness. Hugh scoops her up and gives her a nuzzle, speaking to her softly. I don’t catch most of what he says, but I do hear him say, “Look after her,” and I almost lose it all over again.
“Oh!” I say, suddenly remembering the care package I made him for the flight. I hurry to the kitchen and grab the small cloth bag from where I stowed it last night. When I was running around doing my shopping yesterday, I kept seeing things he likes—mini bags of chips, ginger snaps, a crossword puzzle book—so I decided to collect them for his long trip back home.
“It’s not much,” I say, handing it over. “It’s not a proper gift, but I thought you might like some things for the plane ride.” He peers inside the bag. When he smiles and reaches inside, I know he’s spied the TARDIS keychain I found while whipping around looking for a last-minute gift for Marla. “That’s not for the plane ride obviously, just something I thought you’d like.”
“It’s perfect,” he says. “The only thing I had time to get for the flight was a book, so these things will serve me well. Thank you, Ivy.”
“Thank you for the book,” I say. “It’s one of the most thoughtful gifts anyone has ever given me.” Later, when I’m alone and not feeling like a small gust of wind could knock me over and shatter me, I might contemplate the meaning of his use of the word ‘love’ in the inscription.
“I�
��m glad you like it,” he says.
“Well, I mean, it’s no wool sweater, but you know.” This elicits the laugh I hoped for. “Kidding. I love it. It’ll get pride of place on my shelf, right next to my succulent. I’ll think of you whenever I look at them.”
He nods slowly. His hand reaches for mine and I’m not sure which one of us holds on tighter. My fingers will likely be bruised later, but I don’t care.
“I’ll let you know when I’ve landed in Scotland,” he says. “And I’ll talk to you tomorrow on Christmas day. And then…”
“And then.” I say it like it’s a complete sentence. No promises. We’re hitting pause, and whatever will be will be. I pull my hand free from his to hug him tightly. We kiss, and what starts as a quick pressing of lips turns into something that rivals our kisses from last night. He pulls away first, glancing at his watch with a pained expression. “Go,” I say, moving past him to open the door. “Have a safe journey and we’ll talk soon.”
“Soon,” he promises. And with one final lingering kiss, he’s gone.
I close and lock the door. Lean against it. Wait for the tears to fall. When they don’t, I return to my bed, crawling in and feeling an odd sense of relief when Fiddlesticks joins me. She curls up beside me and that’s when the tears come. They’re not sobs like they were before, just gentle tears that don’t seem to want to stop. I drift in and out of sleep.
I have no idea how much time passes when Celia enters the room. She makes a quiet, distressed sound in the back of her throat and climbs onto my bed. We stare at each other wordlessly and then she lies down, facing me with Fiddlesticks between us.
“It’s going to be okay,” she whispers.
I try to smile. I’m sure it, paired with my bed head and puffy eyes are enough to give Celia nightmares for weeks, but she’s here. She doesn’t flinch, she doesn’t look away, she doesn’t leave. It’s hard to believe it right now, but deep down, I know she’s right: it’s going to be okay.