No Kissing Allowed

by Melissa West

  He kissed my lips sweetly and settled down beside me, cradling me to him. “I don’t know how to do this.”

  I’d heard him say that before, but we were adults. We learned things we didn’t understand. We didn’t simply shut down. “I know, but we can figure it out together.”

  “What if we can’t? What if we start this and slowly but surely I turn into my father. What then? How could I allow that to happen to you?”

  “It’s no different than work, Aidan. If you were like him, you would have fallen into your rightful place at GG. You chose Sanderson-Lowe. You can choose this. Us. And I’m not saying it will be easy, but the choice is yours. Not his. Yours.” I paused, letting that digest before I hit him with the next thing on my mind. Fear worked through my chest as the words held on to my tongue. It was time to take the next step, and either he followed, or I said good-bye. As much as it hurt to think about, I knew I couldn’t continue like this.

  “Come home with me for Christmas.”

  “Cameron—”

  I pressed my fingertips to his lips. “Let me finish. If you still feel this is a bad idea, then we go our separate ways. But you shouldn’t be alone over the holiday, and you know, in your heart, you want to go with me. Trust yourself. Not the person you think you’ll become, but the person you are right here, today.”

  His head tilted to the side as he considered it, his eyes unfocused, deep in thought and no doubt worry. “What if I hurt you?” he whispered.

  “I won’t let you. I’ll walk away.”

  “How many days will we be there?”

  I swallowed, forcing my voice to remain even, devoid of the hope swirling through my belly. “One week.”

  “One week with you? I won’t be able to walk away.”

  I leaned down and pressed my lips to his. “I hate when you say things like that.”

  And then taking comfort in our small step, I slumped down beside him, snuggling into the crook of his neck, and fell fast asleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The winter air proved colder for a Christmas in Birmingham than expected, and I was thankful as Aidan and I stepped outside at the airport that I’d packed lots of warm clothes. Instantly, the familiar smells of home came wafting back to me. Smells of pine trees and clean, crisp air. I wondered if Aidan felt the change, too. We were just here, yet going back to the crowded city made these things all the more noticeable.

  The stress of our return to New York was followed by an almost animallike desire to be together. It was like we sensed our relationship rising to that pivotal point where a decision had to be made—move forward or say good-bye. And neither of us was ready to go.

  I spotted Eric’s Tahoe in the pickup lane a few cars back and motioned to Aidan. “There they are.”

  Eric stepped out as we approached to help with our bags. I hugged him, and then he shook Aidan’s hand. “Nice to have you back.”

  “Nice to be back.”

  We slipped into the Tahoe, and I started to ask where Mom was just as Eric launched into all things football. They talked football for the rest of the drive, and by the time we reached our house, Aidan was grinning and Eric was talking animatedly with his hands. I settled into my seat as I watched them, thinking I could get used to this.

  Mom met us on the front steps, and Aidan reached for her hand, but she swept him into a tight hug. “Merry Christmas!”

  Aidan looked taken aback, but then he relaxed into the hug and swallowed hard. “Merry Christmas, Lorelei.”

  She turned her attention on me, hugging me close. “I missed you.”

  “It’s only been a few weeks.”

  “Too many weeks. Well, come on in. I have dinner on the stove and hot cider made for after.”

  My mouth dropped as we stepped inside. Mom had always been an amazing decorator, but Christmas brought out something deeper in her style. The house smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg. The foyer table displayed one of four of her Christmas villages, the lights and sounds twinkling and dinging as we passed. The staircase had been dusted with its own Christmas decor—the banisters were draped with garland and red berries and lights. The long running rug that led from the front door to the great room had been replaced with one with a motif of Santa giving out presents to kids. Neil Diamond’s “Happy Christmas (War is Over)” played in the background, joined in by the occasional crackle of the fire in the great room. I shook my head as I faced Mom. “You outdid yourself this year. It’s amazing.”

  She shrugged me off, never one to properly accept a compliment, but the smile on her face proved her pleasure at my reaction. “Well, the family’ll be here on Christmas Eve and then again Christmas Day for lunch, and you know they come expecting.”

  I turned back to Aidan, prepared to point him to the dining room table, when the look on his face stopped me short. He focused on every carefully decorated detail. The nutcrackers on the mantel. The snowman afghan on the back of the couch. And then his eyes landed on the massive Christmas tree, no less than twelve feet tall, in the far corner of the great room. I thought of all the things he missed growing up and gripped his hand, showing I was there if he needed me. But then he smiled. Maybe instead of making him sad, this was showing him what a real family looked like—what we could look like someday.

  “Let’s eat.”

  After family updates and lots of laughter, we finished dinner and enjoyed cider in front of the fire, before Mom and Eric said they were going to bed.

  “Stay up as long as you like. You won’t disturb us,” Mom said as she closed the door behind her.

  Aidan and I went on upstairs, and as soon as we heard their door close downstairs, he took a step toward me and pressed his lips to mine. “I’ve been waiting to do that all night,” he said.

  “Oh really? What else have you been waiting to do?”

  “This,” he said, kissing my neck. “And this.” His hands ran down my back, and he pulled me close. “I like your family. A lot.”

  I nodded against his shoulder, feeling overwhelmed with emotion. “Me, too.”

  Aidan looked at me. “What is it?”

  “Nothing.” I shook my head. “I’m just very happy.”

  “Me, too.”

  We held each other for a long moment before Aidan pulled back, his eyes on the adjoining door. “Meet back in here in a few?”

  “Dirty.”

  “I hope so.”

  With a laugh, I went for the main door, a mischievous smile on my face. “I’m going to get ready for bed. Good night.”

  Closing the door, I felt like a sixteen-year-old again, desperate to keep my parents from hearing me sneak out of the house to meet a boy. Only this time the boy wasn’t waiting at some party for me. He was next door, and there was nothing boyish about him. Aidan was all man, full of want and desire. Heat coursed through me at the thought. I ached to have him near me, touching me, kissing me.

  Once inside, I slipped out of my clothes and draped them across the vanity chair. I thought of putting on a nightgown, but stopped at my reflection in the mirror, at my red lace bra and matching red thong. I pulled my hair out of my ponytail and let it flow down over my shoulders, then walked through our adjoining bathroom and knocked quietly on his door so as not to alert the parents below.

  Aidan opened the door and stepped back, his eyes drinking me in, warming my body.

  “Merry Christmas,” I said.

  “I’ll say.”

  My nipples hardened as he focused on my breasts, and I edged closer to him, ready to feel him over me. He hadn’t undressed at all, and was still wearing his dress slacks and pressed collared shirt. I slowly undid each button until his shirt fell off him, then ran my hands down the front of his pants, stopping at the evidence of his need. I unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants, then walked him back to the bed. He lifted me up so I straddled his waist.

  “You are so unbelievably beautiful,” he said, and then there was no more talking. He lips crushed against mine, and he laid me back agai
nst the bed, our bodies connecting. I longed to tell him that I loved him, but the words caught in my throat. Admitting out loud how much I cared made it real. And it made the possibility of him pulling back real. He might not be ready to hear those words, and then what? For now, I tugged him back to me, allowing my body to show him what I was too afraid to say. Saving the words for a safer time.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Mom and I spent most of the morning prepping for Christmas Eve dinner. When I was younger, we would go to my grandmother’s house on Christmas Eve and take turns opening presents around her tree. Once she passed away, my mom took over the family meal, and so for years now, our house has become home to more and more people on Christmas Eve, some family, others friends who had no family of their own to celebrate with. Much like Aidan. All in all, we had four eight-person tables decorated throughout the house.

  Mom slipped outside to clip more greenery, and Aidan came up behind me, wrapping his arms tightly around me. “This is a good look on you,” he said, tapping my apron.

  “You think so?” I turned in his arms and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, planning to separate before Mom returned, when she spoke from the back door.

  “I see one couple that’ll make use of my mistletoe. Now, Aidan, Eric is going into town to pick up a few last-minute things. Do you think you could help him?”

  “Of course.” He kissed my temple before disappearing out the front door in search of Eric.

  Mom resumed her place beside me chopping vegetables, a silent smile on her face.

  “What?” I asked, unable to stay quiet any longer.

  She set down her knife and turned to me. “I have watched you for years now, Cammie. I’ve watched boys come and go. Friends come and go. I’ve seen you at your highest highs, like when you were accepted at NYU. And your lowest lows, like when your father died.” She cleared her throat. “Through all of that, I’ve waited to see you happy again. Truly happy. And not once have I felt you were. Not even with Blaine. Lord knows, we’ve tried, but nothing has sparked a smile like the one you wear whenever Aidan’s around. I’m thankful for him. I’m thankful to see you happy again.”

  “Mom.”

  “Look, Cameron. I know you and I haven’t always seen eye to eye. Your father’s death…” She trailed off, her eyes brimming with tears. I had never once seen my mother cry over Dad’s death, beyond at the funeral itself. “I have tried so hard to help you get over it, when maybe the right thing was to help you through it. I guess I’ve always been jealous of your dad.”

  “Why?”

  She cleared her throat again and dabbed the corners of her eyes with a paper towel. “Because you love him so purely. As selfish as it sounds, I wanted a bit of that love.”

  Guilt punctured my heart like a knife. “Mom…I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t love you. Of course I love you.” I pulled her into a hug. “I just…I don’t know, but I’m sorry.”

  Mom waved me off and smiled. “Under the rug. Let’s forget about it. It’s Christmas.”

  I smiled back. “It’s Christmas.”

  …

  Guests began arriving at five that night, and before long, the house was full of people of all ages. Children ran around the rooms, chasing each other. Adults enjoyed drinks and mingled. All while Mom swept from room to room, checking that glasses were full and people were happy.

  I introduced Aidan to everyone who hadn’t already met him, and beyond a painful conversation with Uncle Buck about all the reasons why the Democrats were ruining America, they had all been nice.

  Then my cousins arrived, and though they had been good on Thanksgiving, their claws were ready to strike today. Lexie and Anna Beth took no time coming over to us, their eyes roaming over Aidan in ways that would make both their husbands angry.

  “So, Aidan,” Anna Beth drawled. “Tell us how you met our sweet Cammie.”

  Sweet Cammie? Clearly she was after an Oscar with this performance. Aidan grinned over at me, sensing my unease. I wanted to disappear with him upstairs, to relieve some of my stress. But the house was full of people, and I was too much my mother’s daughter to show such horrible manners, despite the hating cousins drooling over Aidan. And that was when I realized I hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation, and now our audience had grown to include my aunts.

  “Sorry, what did you say?” Aunt Trudy asked, her face pinched. “You’re Cammie’s boss?”

  Crap. We hadn’t discussed how to handle this second visit, and now… “No, he’s not my boss. He’s…” I trailed off, a cold sweat breaking out on my back. Their eyes were all on me, waiting.

  I opened my mouth, though I had no idea what I wanted to say, when Mom called out from the kitchen doorway, her hand outstretched, pointing at something above us. Our heads all tilted up, and there, right above Aidan and me, was a bundle of mistletoe. Mom beamed at me. “It’s the house rule. You must kiss if you’re under mistletoe.”

  Aidan’s gaze fixed on me. “Gladly.” And in one swift move, he pulled me to him, kissing me sweetly, not willing to let go, and suddenly the aunts were sighing and the cousins were walking away, and I peered over at Mom in time to catch her winking at me before heading back into the kitchen. She’d looked out for me, saved me.

  My chest felt heavy as a surge of emotions worked through me. “I’ll be right back,” I said to Aidan before heading to the kitchen. Mom was alone, her strict one cook in the kitchen rule enforced.

  She cocked her head at me. “I’m not letting you try the pecan pie before it’s on the table, Cammie. So you can just turn your cute bottom around and go back to that boy of yours.”

  I came up to her and, before she could say another word, wrapped my arms around her, tears glistening my eyes. “I love you so much.”

  She set down the wooden spoon she had in her hand and turned to me. “What in the world is this?” she asked.

  “I just…I love you. And I miss you. And I’m sorry that I don’t always make you proud. But every success I’ve ever had is because you were there for me. Even when you didn’t like what I did. You supported me. I love you, Mom.”

  She smiled, her own tears in her eyes, though I knew today of all days she’d never cry. She was a hostess today. “You’re wrong.” I drew back, and she gripped my hand. “I am so proud of you. Of everything you’ve done, of the woman you are becoming. I couldn’t be more proud.”

  I hugged her again, getting flour from her apron on my blouse, but I didn’t care.

  “I love you,” she said, then with a soft kiss to my cheek and a little sniffle she added, “Now, get out of my kitchen.”

  Dinner was served at six, like always, and then we all ate dessert and listened while Eric read ’Twas the Night Before Christmas to all the children. Aidan pulled me against him as we listened and kissed my neck, and I could get used to him here, in my world. He fit into the crazy, somehow. He fit me.

  “I have a surprise for you,” he said into my ear. I stiffened instantly. We’d agreed to no presents, and though I knew my parents would have something for him tomorrow, I’d kept to the agreement, fearful that opening gifts might remind him of his mom, and I didn’t want to make him sad on Christmas.

  “But, we—”

  “Shh,” Aidan said, pressing a finger to my lips. “This is the best part.”

  I focused back on Eric as he finished up the story and passed around the small gifts Mom had bought all the kids. They opened them up excitedly, and then the house was empty and we were cleaning up so Mom and Eric could go on to bed.

  “You do the family thing well,” Aidan said from where he stood drying the china I’d just washed.

  I grinned. “You’re not so bad at it yourself.”

  His eyes fixed on me and he walked over, pinning me to the counter, his arms on either side of me. “I like this. Being here with you. In the open.”

  My gaze dropped. “Yeah, me, too.”

  He lifted my chin and peered into my ey
es. “Tell me what you’re thinking. Why do you look sad?”

  I hesitated. I’d told him how I felt in a roundabout way, but he hadn’t given me anything to go on. Still, Christmas Eve didn’t feel like the right time to push it. “It’s nothing.”

  The house had become chilly without the fire in the great room to keep us warm, and I shivered. Aidan ran his hands up and down my arms to try to warm me. “Tell me.”

  “I don’t want this to end,” I finally admitted. “And…” I hesitated again, wishing I could hold this in for another day, until we returned back home, until the magic of Christmas was gone and we were back to reality.

  “And?”

  “I don’t want to hide anymore. I don’t want to kiss you in abandoned stairwells or hide in closets or be afraid to bring you home to my apartment because Alexa might be there. I want this. I want a family and kids. I want it all.”

  He stared down at me and ran his hands easily through my hair, a storm of mixed emotions in his eyes, before he finally blinked hard and said, “What if we talked about moving in together? Focused on this version of us, worked to make it more. I can do long-term. With you, I can. But…” He drew a long breath, his arms back at his side, like he needed to separate from me to say his next words. “I can’t get married. I can’t have kids. Those things aren’t in my future.”

  I fought to swallow as a mix of emotions hit me. There was a time I would have been thrilled with his offer, would have clung to it with the hope that one day it would become more. But I wasn’t a girl anymore, who wished on stars and prayed for things to change. Adulthood meant discovering not only who you were, but what you wanted out of your life. I knew what I wanted now. I couldn’t go back. “I know this is big for you.”

  “It is.”

  I hesitated, but if I didn’t get it out now, I never would. “I’m sorry, it’s not enough for me. I have to know this is going somewhere. I…” I sucked in a breath, tears pricking my eyes, but I couldn’t deny this any longer. “I don’t want to be with anyone else. I want you. But…I want a husband more. I want kids. I want to grow old with someone and watch our kids grow up. I want a lifetime.”