by Gina Azzi
“Oh, Lila.” I pull her back to my side, needing to feel her warmth, her weight, pressed beside me. “I’m sorry you hurt at all, baby.”
“After, afterward, when all the rumors and gossip started, when Gilly approached me—”
“He had no right to say those things to you.”
She nods into my shoulder again. “I know. But when he did, I thought … I figured that’s how you must feel about me too. That I was just trying to get your attention, get back at you.”
“Shh. I would never think that of you. Not for a second did I believe anything that people were saying. I saw you that night, Lila. I saw you after. And it…” I breathe out, my words sticking in my throat like salt water taffy “…it fucking killed me. Your face, I—” I shake my head. “I hate what he did to you. What he took from you. The self-doubt he created in you. I hate him and I hate myself even more for not being there to stop it. For putting you in a position where you felt like you had to be reckless or blow off steam or whatever. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” She places a hand on my cheek, turning her head to meet my gaze again. She kisses me softly. “It’s not anyone’s fault.”
I nod again. Still, the ice clinks in my chest, and I feel like I can’t breathe. I hate that she was hurt, I hate that anyone hurt her, and I hate that I can’t protect her from that hurt.
“I just, I need you to know that I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“I know that, Lila.”
“And I don’t know when…” she exhales loudly “…when I’ll be ready.” Her hand flicks between us.
The ice clanks loudly in my eardrums.
“There’s no rush and no pressure. Ever.” I pull her closer, wrapping her in my arms and tucking her head under my chin. She rests her cheek against my chest, her ear over my heart. “You and I, we’ll figure everything out, how we move forward from here, together.”
She nods into my chest.
“And you control how things progress with us physically. Whatever you’re comfortable with, or uncomfortable with, I just need you to communicate it to me. Just please don’t shut me out. Whatever you’re thinking, whatever you’re feeling, tell me. Okay?”
“Okay.”
The silence resumes, but its somehow peaceful now, as if the seriousness of our conversation lifted a dark cloud, transformed the tension of unspoken words into understood calmness.
After several minutes, her light snores punctuate the darkness, and I wrap my arms around her tighter, following her into sleep.
* * *
My Lila is back. It’s the biggest relief I’ve experienced in weeks, which is funny considering my surgery is looming two weeks away. Dr. Somers is satisfied with the outcome of the chemotherapy. My tumor has shrunk and the team of doctors assigned to my case is confident that they will be able to resect the entire tumor. I’m too nervous to have any expectations, but with Lila’s cheek pressed against my chest, her hair spilling down my arm, and the spirit of Christmas in the air, it’s hard not to feel hopeful.
On Saturday, her brightness bounds through my bedroom door, her face open, innocent, the same way she looked the first time I ever saw her. I wish I could freeze the moment and stare at her for hours, studying the curve of her neck, the roundness of her cheeks, the shape of her eyes. I don’t ever want to forget how she looks in this moment. And it’s amazing, really, because this moment isn’t extraordinary or special in any way that I can mark, but somehow it is, because she’s here. With me.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” She sits on the bed, her body sliding back into my chest. I curl around her, pulling her closer and she laughs.
It’s low and husky and musical.
She kisses my forehead, my temple, my nose. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Really?” I ask.
“Yep. Get up.” She glances at her watch. “We have to get going. Time is of the essence.” She smiles at me, holding out her hand. “And I need your car keys.”
I sit up slowly. “Just where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise!”
“I’m not really a surprise kind of guy.”
“Well, you should be. I’m breaking you in. Keys?” She smiles at me, her eyes sparkling, daring me to put up a fight.
Although I don’t like surprises, I like everything she likes, so I guess I’ll have to adjust. “Keys are on the desk, next to my laptop. I’ll be ready in ten. What do I wear to this surprise? Can you give me a hint?”
“Sweats are fine.”
“Wow. Giving nothing away.”
“You’re really bad at this.”
I laugh.
She reaches forward suddenly, her fingertips grazing across my cheek. “Eyelash,” she explains. She captures the tiny eyelash on her pointer finger and presses it against her thumb. “Finger or thumb?” Her eyes are serious.
I fight the urge to smile. Jared and I used to do this when we were kids. “Thumb.”
She opens her fingers and breaths a sigh of relief. “Make a wish.”
“I wish—”
“No …” Her other arm shoots out, her hand clamping over my mouth. “You can’t tell me. Close your eyes and make a wish in your mind.” Her gaze is incredulous, scolding me for not having a proper grasp on wishing etiquette.
“Okay,” I agree, closing my eyes and making my wish.
When I open them, she’s sitting there smiling at me. I lean forward and kiss her slowly. Her lips melt into mine like the first snowfall of hopeful. Lila’s eyes flutter closed and a soft sigh escapes her mouth. I catch it, deepening our kiss, my hands pressing into the warmth of her back. She tastes like my future and my heart rate accelerates.
My wish has already come true.
* * *
Lila taps the steering wheel as she drives, her large sunglasses hiding her eyes from view. Due to the recent drop in temperature, she’s wearing a pair of low-riding jeans, a T-shirt, and a slouchy cardigan that hangs to her knees. I smile at her red Converse sneakers. She is the epitome of a college student mixed with the excitement of a little kid.
“Want to stop for a coffee?” I ask, spotting an upcoming Starbucks.
“Sure,” she agrees, turning on the blinker and moving into the right lane.
We pull through the drive through and she orders a Grande Vanilla Skinny Latte. I opt for a tall decaf Americano.
She wrinkles her nose. “That’s what my dad orders.”
I laugh. “And your opinion of him isn’t too great at the moment, huh?”
She shakes her head, pulling her sweater sleeve over her fingers. “Not particularly.” She sighs. “Brandon told me that Dad’s spending Christmas with Brenda in Aspen. They’re going skiing. Brenda is so excited to après,” she says the last word in French imitation of her father’s girlfriend, who clearly likes to put on airs.
“What do you usually do for Christmas?” I ask gently.
Her face brightens automatically. “Brandon wakes me up early, by 6:00 AM. He creeps into my room and then yells and jumps right on my stomach. ‘Wake up, Li! Santa came.’” She smiles at her memories. “And he acts so excited, so genuine, that I never question him or his antics. We go downstairs. My mom always has a massive tree set up. She likes to decorate in gold. Little white lights and lots of gold-accented ornaments. There are poinsettias in front of the fireplace, which is already lit, thanks to our housekeeper Lina. Our stockings hang in front of the fireplace. Dad has already made his decaf coffee.” She smirks at me, leaning out the window to receive our drinks and pay. She settles our beverages in the cup holders between us.
“Do you do presents on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day?”
“One on Christmas Eve. At midnight. The rest on Christmas Day, in the morning. What about you? What are your traditions like?”
I take a sip of my coffee, sufficiently burning my tongue. I wince. “Careful, it’s hot.”
“I figured.”
“Ha. Christmas at my house was a lot of f
un growing up. Jared and I used to decorate the tree with all of our homemade ornaments and strings of popcorn. My mamma cooks a massive dinner on Christmas Eve: ham, potatoes, collard greens and cornbread. My dad plays Christmas music for weeks leading up to Christmas. And he always makes a toast before we eat dinner that centers on family and tradition. We open most of our presents before we go to bed and save one for Christmas morning, which we open before church. Then, we have a huge lunch with my aunts, uncles, and cousins, and just hang out for the day.”
She laughs. “It’s like the opposite of mine.”
I nod, agreeing.
“What are your Christmas plans this year?” she asks, darting a glance at me again.
I shrug, trying to remain casual. Christmas doesn’t feel like Christmas, or like a day warranting celebration, without Jared. Last year, Mamma, Dad, and I had a quiet dinner at home, politely excusing ourselves from attending any dinners with my aunts and uncles. On Christmas day, we went to church like usual and dropped by Uncle Ronnie’s for dessert only. Mamma was too upset and withdrawn to attend dinner as well. Dad didn’t want to push her to do anything she was uncomfortable with and let her handle how we spent the holiday. It was a difficult day, a stark reminder of all that we lost, a flood of beautiful memories now tinged with bitterness and resentment and hurt. I was happy when it was over.
This year, I think I’ll be alone, but I don’t want to tell Lila that. Mamma and Dad are flying out for my surgery, but since it’s so close to Christmas they can’t take vacation time again two weeks later to celebrate the day with me. And I doubt I’ll be cleared to fly that early, especially not during one of the most-traveled times of the year. Miers and Hendrix offered to stay on campus, but that’s not fair. They barely get to go home with the football schedule the way it is. They shouldn’t miss the holidays with their families. And I don’t think I’m up for attending one of their holiday dinners. The long drive, the forced conversation with their family members studying me with a mixture of polite pity, it would just end up detracting from their good time. I sigh heavily, watching the trees whizz past the window.
Lila reaches over and gently takes my hand in hers.
“I could spend Christmas here, with you,” she says quietly.
I smile at her, grateful for the gesture but not about to let her make such a sacrifice. It’s her favorite day of the year, her family needs her, and I know how eager she is to be reunited with her three friends over the winter break.
“Thank you.” I squeeze her hand, wanting her to know how much I appreciate the offer. “But you can’t do that. You love Christmas. You need to be with your mom and Brandon. Plus, what would Mia, Maura, and Emma say? They’re dying to see you.”
Her eyes are focused on the road, her brow furrowing slightly when we pass an exit, but then she relaxes once more, returning her attention to me. “I want to stay, Cade. I want to celebrate Christmas with you.” Her voice is strong and clear, a declaration woven into her words. “Christmas isn’t going to be the same this year.” She shrugs. “Dad’s in Aspen. My mom wants to visit her sister and my little cousins in Virginia. Brandon has to work and has decided to spend the holidays with his new girlfriend and her family. And trust me, Mia, Maura, and Emma would more than understand. In fact, I think they’d be pretty happy for me. For us.” A small smile flickers over her lips. “You know, Christmas is my favorite day of the year. But that doesn’t mean we can’t create new traditions, you and I.” She looks at me briefly, but I can’t read her eyes since they’re hiding behind sunglasses.
“Are you serious? You would really want to stay here for Christmas?”
She nods. “As long as you’re willing to have me.” She laughs suddenly. “I have to be out of the dorms by December 20.”
I laugh with her. Me and Lila. Christmas. My house. “I’d love that.” I tell her sincerely. “I’d love to spend Christmas with you.”
“Then it’s a date,” she agrees, removing her hand from mine to put her blinker on. “This is us.” She pulls off the highway and onto a side road that winds for several miles.
“Just where are you taking me?” I ask.
“To get supplies.” She smiles, turning into a huge lot.
A hand-painted sign welcomes us. Wintergreen Tree Sales.
“We’re going to get us a real tree so we can decorate it and start on those traditions,” she explains, pulling the truck into a parking spot.
I smile at her. “This is the best surprise.” And I mean it. Her. Christmas. New traditions. Something to overshadow the haunting memories of last year.
“Thought so too. Let’s go.”
I climb out of the truck and meet her by the trunk, taking her hand in mine. Then we walk through a winter wonderland, eager to pick out our first Christmas tree.
Chapter Forty-Three
Lila
“You’re spending Christmas with him?” Mia’s face smiles on my screen. “That’s amazing!”
“You’re not upset, are you? I know you’re flying home and—”
“Shut up.” She cuts me off. “I’m really happy for you, Li. Plus, he needs you a lot more than the rest of us. We’ll just make up for it in January.” Her brown eyes crinkle in the corners. “This is awesome news!”
“I’m glad you think so.” I smile back, relieved that she’s not upset with me for missing her homecoming.
She waves her hand dismissively. “We have tons of stuff to catch up on.”
“Including the Italiano?”
Mia blushes. “Yes. Including him. I just wanted to tell you that I’m really happy that things worked out with you and Cade. I have to go now. It’s my last final.” She rolls her eyes. “But I’ll see you in a few weeks, and we will drink a lot of the wine I’m bringing home and discuss everything in detail.”
“That sounds amazing.”
“The chat or the wine?”
“Both.”
Mia laughs. “Agreed. Okay, love you. Talk soon. Give Cade my best and wish him luck on his surgery. Stay strong, sister.”
“Thanks, Mia. Good luck on your exam! See you soon.”
“Ciao.” She hangs up.
I’ve already received deliriously happy text messages from Emma and Maura demonstrating their support for my decision to spend Christmas with Cade. Brandon was happy for me as well. ‘Good for you, Bean. I’ll miss you but we’ll just have to compare notes on who’s dating a cooler person,’ he had messaged me. My mom was more upset with my decision, but shockingly understanding. I don’t know if it’s because of Cade’s surgery or because she knows how much I really care about him, but she didn’t put up an argument. I haven’t said anything to my dad yet, but I doubt he’ll notice anyway.
Plans in place, I recline on my bed, scouring Pinterest and looking up recipes for our Christmas meal. I’ve never cooked on Christmas before, and I want to make something completely different, something both Cade and I don’t normally eat on Christmas so it can be another one of our new traditions. I’m pinning furiously— pumpkin and sage ravioli, linguine and clams, struffoli (Mia sent it), reindeer food, egg nog, etc.—when Kristen and Sam burst through the door.
“Happy End of Semester!” Kristen twirls, her arms raised out to the side.
“Today was your last shift?” I ask, closing my laptop.
“Yes! When are you done?”
“Two more days. What about you, Sam?”
“Tomorrow, thank God. I’m so over this semester.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I thought you were loving the program.”
He sits down on my bed. “It’s not the program.”
“Then what’s the deal?”
Sam leans back on his elbow and brushes his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose. “Chris and I are heading to St Barts for Christmas. I’m ready for some fun and sun and …” He wiggles his hips suggestively.
“Oh my God!” I laugh, covering my mouth with my hand. “Good for you.”
“It’s much needed.�
�� He smiles brightly at the thought. “What are you doing for the holidays? Kristen told me you’re planning to stick around here. Got your own action planned?”
“Something like that.” I laugh again, mildly embarrassed. “Cade can’t fly so soon after his surgery, so we’re going to make our own Christmas here.”
“I think it will be romantic.” Kristen offers, perching on the edge of her bed, her knees bouncing slightly.
Sam nods. “What are you getting him for Christmas?”
I shake my head. “I have no idea. I better get on that, huh?”
“Do something thoughtful,” Kristen suggests. “Something that shows him how much you care about him.”
Sam snorts. “Buy him something baller. He’ll appreciate it. He dresses well and has a great ass.”
“Thanks.” I smile at him.
He waves his hand dismissively. “You know it’s the truth.”
“I’ll think about it,” I tell Kristen, smiling at her.
She’s right. I want to do something sweet and thoughtful for Cade for Christmas. But what?
“Let’s get some drinks and snacks and discuss this in further detail. I don’t know what to get Joe either. Is it too soon?” Kristen wonders.
Sam sits up. “You’re right. Let’s go to Taps. We’ll definitely be more creative and resourceful if drinks are involved.”
“Done.” I agree, stepping into the closet to find a cardigan. “No, it’s not too soon. You met his parents.” I respond to Kristen’s unanswered question.
I hear her let out a sigh of relief.
We definitely need a Christmas present pow-wow to sort this out.