by Jessi Gage
“For you, Mandy!” Gina sang out, tossing a flat box in red paper onto my lap.
Cole winked. He had a modest pile of presents at his feet.
I looked for a tag on the gift in my lap, certain Gina had been mistaken.
To: Mandy. From: Bernice. So so happy you could join us, sweetheart!
Talk about a punch to the emotional epicenter. I had to bite my lip to keep from crying.
Gina clapped and said. “All right, everyone. One…two…three…tear into those gifties! Go! Go! Go!”
Pandemonium ensued. It was like a pack of hyenas descending on a herd of paper antelope.
Shouts of young enthusiasm exploded one after the other.
“Thank you, Gram!”
“Oh, mom! Look what Uncle Bill got me!”
“Nathan, that’s mine! The blue one is yours!”
I was so transfixed by the disorder I forgot about the present on my lap.
Cole rubbed my shoulder with his thumb. “Open it.” He nodded at the present. Then he removed his arm from around me and turned his attention to his own gifts. Whether the moment of privacy was intentional or not, I appreciated it.
With difficulty, I wrenched my attention off the glowing faces of Cole’s nieces and nephews and the flying bits of ribbon and paper and looked down at Bernice’s gift. The paper was beautiful. Metallic red with embossed snowflakes in a flat red of the same tone. I peeked at Bernice, who was busy hugging one of her grandchildren. I opened it carefully, preserving the paper as much as I could, not sure why when all around me, shreds of wrapping were becoming land-fill material. It felt like everything about this present, from its unexpected existence to its tag to the loving way it was wrapped to whatever lay inside held great importance.
I’d received many presents from friends and sometimes even from boyfriends over the years, but nothing from a maternal figure since Mom had died. My brain recorded every nuance as I lifted the tape along one seam with a faint snap, slid the white box, like something you’d give clothing in, from the sheath of paper, and wiggled the top off.
Whatever lay inside was wrapped in silver tissue paper. I lifted the bundle from the box. It was light. Definitely some kind of clothing. A blouse, maybe? A lightweight sweater?
I lifted one flap of tissue paper and then the other. Crimson cashmere flirted with my fingertips. Stroke me, it tempted. Rub me on your cheek. I am soft enough to swaddle a newborn in, and I’m all for you.
I lifted the fabric and unfolded it. It was a luxuriously long scarf wide enough to fold in half and still have the coverage required to keep a neck warm from the chill. It slid like water through my hands. It was the most beautiful present I’d ever received.
I stared at it as tears filled my eyes.
Cole’s arm went around me. Then his other. He held me, giving me a safe place to cry my eyes out where no one but him or me would know.
“You like it?” he asked.
I nodded against his shoulder, speechless.
He thumbed away my tears. He looked a little choked up, too, not like he would cry, but like he felt a fraction of what I was feeling, and it made him happy. “She got it for you a few days ago. When I saw you were home, I decided you’d be coming here with me today. Ma said it would be poor form to have a guest come for Christmas and not have a gift to open.”
I peeked up at him. “She didn’t have to do that. I didn’t get anything for her.” I should have brought the poinsettia I’d gotten at Wal-Mart last night or a decoration for the tree or a dish to contribute to the meal. Something.
“She wanted to. She’s just like that.”
“She didn’t even know we were dating when she got it.”
“I know. I think she was hoping, though.” He winked.
The reality that I was dating Cole settled over me like a lead bib when you’re getting dental X-rays, weighty, unshakable. It made me feel claustrophobic, but it also made my tummy tighten with giddy butterflies.
He really was my boyfriend. His family liked me. This was happening. Whether I was fully committed or not.
Before getting into his truck this morning, I’d thought I could walk away from Cole when I returned to Philly. I was no longer sure I could do that.
The problem was, serious relationships didn’t work in my life. Hard to have a serious relationship when one half of the couple doesn’t do sex. I couldn’t imagine having a conversation about sex with Cole, let alone actually having it with him.
I knew what would happen when he was ready for more than chaste kisses. I’d freak. He’d be hurt. Or angry. He’d walk, and then I’d hurt. As of today, it would hurt more to watch Cole walk away than anyone else I’d ever attempted to have a relationship with.
The trip to New Hampshire I’d approached like a duty was turning into the sweetest surprise. If it were just my own heart on the line, I’d embrace that surprise. With enthusiasm. But Cole’s heart was in this too. I felt it in his gentle touch, in the strength of his powerful body as he crowded it around me like a protective cliff face. I saw it in his eyes when he looked at me.
It was too soon to be love. But it was something monumental and precious, nevertheless.
I needed to put some distance between us. I couldn’t let him fall any harder for me. I couldn’t let myself fall harder for him and his awesome family. Bracing myself, I started to say his name, the first word in a speech I’d just then composed in my head about how we needed to slow things down. No one would hear. Everyone was still tearing into their presents. But a flash of shiny blue paper caught my eye and distracted me.
Cole had a gift the size of a billfold in his hand. He pressed it into mine. “I got this for you.”
I blinked. Cole had gotten me a gift? When?
“Go on.” His jaw was tense, his eyes shifty, like he was nervous.
I couldn’t not open it considering how he looked right now. My vulnerable rock.
Hoping for a meaningless trinket, I opened the gift, as careful with the wrapping as I’d been with Bernice’s gift. The paper came away to reveal a smooth tan box, suspiciously like a jewelry box.
I shook my head. I couldn’t finish. Just looking at the box, I knew it was too much. If I opened the box, my fate would be sealed. So would Cole’s.
I shoved the box back in his hands.
He forced me to hold it with him. He lifted the lid.
Lying in a nest of pewter satin was a charm bracelet. I knew from the inscription on the underside of the lid the bracelet could not have cost less than five hundred dollars. It read Pandora.
I slammed the lid back on. “This is too much.”
Cole reopened the lid and lifted the bracelet from the box. “It’s just right,” he said as he clasped it on my left wrist. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the sight of his large fingers working the delicate latch. Had he practiced so he could do it so smoothly?
Surreal didn’t begin to describe the moment. Christmas chaos reigned around us, but we were in a private bubble, a fragile sphere of changing expectations.
The bracelet had some heft to it, the weight speaking to its good quality. The spine was a tightly-braided snake chain with a sleek clasp that when fastened appeared like a silver bead with the brand name etched into it. Most of the charms were beads of various colors and materials. There were a couple that dangled. One was the iconic Harley Davidson bar and shield. Dad. Another was a tiny gold heart hanging from a silver loop.
“This one’s in your school colors,” Cole said, fingering an oval shaped bead of marbled Arcadia University scarlet and pewter. It must have been made of glass for the colors to streak together like that so perfectly. “This one’s made of granite. You know, the Granite State.” That one was light beige with a vein of burnt sienna running through it. New Hampshire. He’d given me a piece of the place I’d grown up and a piece of my new home, Pennsylvania. “This one reminded me of your eyes. But green could also mean Christmas. Our first Chri
stmas together.”
I jerked my mesmerized gaze from the beads to meet Cole’s eyes. First implied there would be more Christmases to follow.
He held my gaze, not denying the implication, then returned his attention to the bracelet. “These are obvious.” He touched some square beads with letters on them. C-O-L-E. “So you don’t forget me when you go back to Philly.” He grinned with smoldering confidence.
“Like I could forget,” I said, breathless.
The rest of the charms were just for decoration, I assumed, like one that looked like a Celtic knot, and another that had a flower on it and a pearl dangling from it. There was room for a few more charms. Future gifts, I thought, insanely.
“You look like you’ve been smacked with a two-by-four,” he said, his grin crooked.
I was speechless. Again. This wasn’t a last-minute purchase he’d gotten at Target when he realized we’d be spending Christmas together. He would have had to get this at the mall, which would have been closed after he left Dad’s place last night.
I found my voice. “You got this before you knew we’d be…together.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Not only was it a lot of money to spend on just a friend, but the beads that spelled out his name would do more than remind me of him when I went home. My wearing this bracelet marked me as his.
“I bought it hoping I’d work up the courage to tell you how I feel before you left town. I wasn’t going to give you these until after I got you to go out with me.” He fingered the C-O-L-E beads. “Glad I could give you the whole thing today. Glad you’re my girl.” He sounded so genuine my eyes misted up again.
I was glad too, despite all my fears about how long a non-physical relationship could possibly last and how bad it would hurt when it came to its inevitable end.
With other guys, I would have been nervous about what a nice gift like this obligated me to. I didn’t worry about that with Cole. I had a feeling he’d want me to keep this even if I did what I’d planned and broke it off with him when I left Newburgh.
I no longer believed I would do that. Cole was proving to be the kind of guy a girl held onto for dear life. He was the kind of guy a girl would be a fool to give up without a fight.
“Crap,” I whispered, wishing I didn’t have to leave his side to go dig the Oakleys out of my purse in the entryway. I’d been a coward not to put them under the tree with the other gifts when we’d arrived.
“Is that how folks in Philly say thank you? If so, you’re welcome. It looks fantastic on you. I hope you never take it off.”
He was smiling, but his eyes were wary. I could tell he was worried I might not be happy with the bracelet. I couldn’t let him think that.
“Thank you,” I told him. “I love it.” I pressed my hand to his cheek. He’d gotten a close shave this morning. Stubble was just now starting to roughen his skin. “I, uh, got you something too. I’ll be right back.”
As I walked by the couch, Bernice caught my eye. She had a sly grin on her rose-lipsticked lips.
I touched her shoulder. “Thank you so much for the scarf.” I had it draped around my shoulders. “It’s beautiful. I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything.”
She yanked me into a big bear hug. “It’s a good shade for you. I’m glad you like it, sweetheart.” She released me and caught up my arm. “What do we have here?”
I showed her the bracelet. She fawned over it, which I loved, but I was eager to get to my purse so I could give Cole his gift. When I could get away tactfully, I hurried to the entryway and returned with the silver-wrapped box. I bit my lip as I handed it to Cole. Would he like them? Did he have some sort of sentimental attachment to the scuffed sunglasses?
He took the present with raised eyebrows. Mauling the paper, he revealed the case with the Oakley O on the front. He slid a glance to me. Smiled. He unzipped the case and opened it like a clam to reveal the sleek sunglasses inside.
He swallowed. Picked up the glasses, hooked them into his collar. Then he cupped a big hand around the back of my neck and brought me in for a kiss, right there in front of his mom and grandfather and everyone.
His closed lips were hot and hard, almost mean. His hand shaped to the back of my neck with command. His other hand slipped around my waist.
I was no longer in Bernice’s living room. Cole had just transported me to a sunny beach with a cool breeze and an ocean scent. Heaven. Pure heaven.
I leaned into the kiss and gripped his bicep. The bracelet shifted on my wrist, charms flirting with the cuff of my sweater.
He ended the kiss with a growl. “Damn you, woman,” he said. “Giving me something thoughtful like that when I’m trying to take things slow with you.”
“Slow? A Pandora bracelet is slow?”
“It’s as slow as I can be with you. Couldn’t put the brakes on any harder if I tried.”
That should have terrified me. It didn’t. Because it was Cole saying it.
A feeling of warmth and wonder chased away my apprehension about what lay in store for us. Suddenly, talking with my boyfriend about my fears and physical issues didn’t seem like such a terrifying prospect. Even if we couldn’t figure out how to make this work in the long term, I knew, looking into those steady blue eyes, that at the very least my insecurities would be treated with respect and tenderness.
No man had ever looked at me the way Cole did, like I could be his whole world if I let myself be. No man had ever felt as safe to me as Cole did.
Maybe things could be different with him. Maybe I could give Cole more than I’d been able to give anyone before him.
Chapter 15
It was after nine o’clock when we left Bernice’s, stuffed to the gills and sugared up on pumpkin pie and apple cider. Strapped into the passenger seat of Cole’s big truck, I felt stupid with contentedness. I couldn’t think of any other person, not even Heather, with whom I’d spent an entire day and felt like doing it all over again tomorrow.
Maybe it was because I’d grown up an only child, but I tended to require a lot of alone time to recharge. If alone time was a regular charge, Cole time was a supercharge. From his gentle way with me to his amazing family to his gift on my wrist to the sweet words he would whisper to me when no one else could hear, I had, plain and simple, become addicted to Cole.
“Your family is awesome,” I said. Families that gathered and hugged and laughed together really did exist. I now had first-hand experience.
“Yeah. They are.” He drove with one hand on the wheel. The other elbow rested on the console, his fingers lightly tapping the stick shift to the soft Christmas music he had playing. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to show the pale, carved muscles of his forearms.
I traced those strong lines with my forefinger. It was like petting a furry, warm rock. My rock.
I gulped. I owed him the truth.
He’d made one heck of a confession to me last night. He’d had a lot of secrets to tell me, and he’d sucked it up and done it, even though it had to have been about as fun as sticking a finger in a light socket. The least I could do was be upfront about my relationship hang-ups.
Whatever it meant for us that I hadn’t gotten to second base with a boyfriend since before my assault, he had a right to know.
Cole gave me a soft look while I petted him. I didn’t want to change the tone of this moment, but it felt like time to open up.
I rested my hand on his arm. “I never thanked you for telling me everything last night. So, thank you. I bet you weren’t looking forward to that.”
“You’re welcome, honey. You made it easy on me. Thank you for listening.”
I resisted the urge to fidget with the crease in my pants. “I’ve got some things to tell you too. I mean, if we’re going to be an us, there are some things you should know.”
He linked his fingers with mine. We couldn’t stay like that, because his truck was a manual-shift, but I enjoyed the contact while it lasted. “You want to talk, I’ll
listen. I like being an us, so yeah, if I got to know, lay it on me.”
Now that I had an audience, I wasn’t sure where to start. Maybe with being honest about my reservations? “Last night I told you I didn’t date?” I made it a question, asking if he remembered.
“Yeah,” he said, taking his hand back to downshift for a turn onto another road. “You said this thing between us wouldn’t work. I didn’t listen.”
I snorted. “Nice to know my boyfriend takes my concerns seriously.”
He grinned. “Don’t worry. I plan on making it up to you.” Even though his eyes were on the road, I could see the playful heat in them.
He was flirting with me. It was harmless and sweetly sexy and exactly like what a normal couple would do on a car ride home after a day-long date. Unfortunately, no couple with me in it could ever be normal.
I wanted to feel warmth and expectant delight at his playfulness. Instead, as usual, the merest hint of anything sexual made my stomach roll with dread.
“Um, about that,” I stammered. “I, uh, don’t—shoot. This sucks.” I shook my head. I had to get it together and spit it out. Cole hadn’t stumbled over his words when he’d made his confession, and I’d appreciated his straightforwardness. I could be straightforward too.
Cole cut a worried glance at me. “Hey, you okay?”
I blew out a raspberry. It was now or never. “Except for that night, I haven’t had sex. With anyone.”
Cole stared straight ahead, burning holes through the windshield. His knuckles went white on the steering wheel. All of a sudden, he steered the truck off the road and pulled to a stop on the shoulder.
We were on Old County Road in Hampstead. Whether it was the time of night or the holiday, it felt quieter than usual. Dark, double-income houses on large lots dotted both sides. Blue lights came from some of the windows—families recovering from spending time with each other by spending quality time with the TV. A few homes were lit up with Christmas lights, but not as many as in Bernice’s neighborhood. There were hardly any cars on the road.