There was a distinct, unmistakable sinking feeling in my gut at that declaration.
My gaze immediately went to Lyra to find her suddenly looking down at her feet.
We both knew what it meant.
It meant she was leaving.
There was no way we could logically pretend that we were just making the best of a fateful circumstance, that we were holed up because of the snow and that we might as well get naked and sweaty.
Maybe, if Felix hadn't shown up, we could have gotten another day or two of blissful ignorance.
I wasn't stupid. I knew the minute I met her that she would be out of my life in a couple of days. But, at the time, she was just a pretty face in an ugly sweater who needed my help. I didn't know about her dark past and I didn't know there was a sweet, optimistic, hopeful woman with a thoughtful heart and an amusingly twisted sense of humor.
That and, fucking hell, was she amazing in the sack.
I wasn't a manwhore but I wasn't a saint either. I'd had my fair share of women. I knew the kinky and the prudish. But I had never had a woman who had come alive with my touch like she had. She sparked. She was fucking electric. And I wanted more. I wanted her in every possible way I could have her.
But that wasn't in our cards.
Fucking Felix.
"Is that turkey I smell?" he asked, dropping his suitcase next to the door and moving in toward the kitchen. "You put up a tree and lights and," he paused, turning back to us with a shit-eating grin, "I'm assuming that dilapidated gingerbread house is your doing, Jack."
"Hey," Lyra piped up, putting a hand on my stomach in a way that was easy, familiar, "I had him just about convinced it wasn't a complete disaster."
"Then you're a damn good bullshit artist, princess," he said, reaching for the tray of cookies on the counter, peeling back the plastic covering, and taking a healthy bite out of one. "Is this a thing?" he asked, waving half his cookie between us.
The blunt bastard.
"Oh, ah, we're," she stammered, shaking her head a little. "Jack wrecked my car," she admitted honestly. "I was on my way to the cabins too. For Christmas."
"That explains the cheer," he nodded, looking around. "So, what, you decided to take advantage of the situation and get it on?"
Oh, for fuck's sake.
Lyra's perfect milky cheeks went bright pink.
"Alright, enough," I growled, jerking my head toward the stairs. "I'll help you get settled in."
"I would offer to help you cook," he said, grabbing another cookie as he moved past her, "but I can't even cook ramen in the microwave."
I grabbed his suitcase and hauled it up the stairs, vaguely aware of him behind me on the steps. As soon as we turned into his room, I dropped the bag and turned back to him. "Could you have worse timing?"
Felix rocked back on his heels, looking bashful. "Yeah, sorry about that. I guess I should have allowed myself to freeze to death so you can get your dick wet," he said, the wry smile taking away some of the brashness in his words.
"You could have lost a couple fucking toes. Take one for the team, man," I quipped, smirking.
Fact of the matter was, when you had one friend in the world, it was hard to stay mad at them.
Besides, what was he really ruining? Losing Lyra was inevitable. He just moved up the time table a bit.
"She's pretty," he added, leaning against the wall.
"Yep," I agreed.
"And she can bake."
"Mmhmm."
"And she decorated your house for Christmas."
"She did."
"You hate Christmas."
"Apparently I don't hate it; I just didn't want to celebrate it alone."
"She looks at you like you're the last piece of chocolate on Valentine's Day."
"That's fucking sappy," I snorted, shaking my head.
"But it's true. Did I cut your fling short with my road declaration?"
"Yes," I said, going toward the doorway again.
"Shit. Sorry, man."
"It was going to end," I shrugged as I walked into the hall, feeling more tense than I should have since I had gotten more sex in that twenty-four hours than I had in months.
"He's nothing like I expected," Lyra said in a hushed voice from the bottom of the steps. Her eyes were active and her body tight in excitement.
"What were you expecting?"
"I don't know. His books tend to be so serious, so dark in a lot of ways. I figured he would be unfriendly and reserved or something."
"Nah, doll," I said, putting an arm over her shoulders and pulling her with me, leaning down to kiss the side of her head. "He's just a guy most of the time."
"Most of the time?" she prompted as I released her in the kitchen where we both just simultaneously began taking the food out of the fridge to start preparing.
"Yeah, most of the time. When he's writing, though, he's like a different person. He's moody and anxious and obsessive-compulsive and he's got a short fucking temper."
"Really? He seems so laid-back," she said, pulling out the celery, carrots, and onions to start chopping for the stuffing.
"Dunno, babe. Think writers might just be different from the rest of us when they're working."
She smiled at that. "Well, I guess it's like they live with people inside their heads until they get them onto paper. Makes sense. Will he write here?" she asked, almost seeming excited to witness Felix's erratic writing behavior.
"Sorry to burst your bubble, doll, but he has a ritual. He only writes at the places he writes at. He will wait until he gets up to the cabins. Most I've ever seen him do around here is jot down some idea or other when he's visited."
"Bummer," she said, but didn't seem overly put-off by it. "Well, still. It will be pretty cool to share a meal with one of the most popular writers around right now. Think he'll take a picture with me?"
"Give him those begging eyes and he won't be able to refuse."
"Begging eyes?" she asked, brows drawing together. "When have I given you... oh," she said when my smirk curved up and went devilish. "Well, I'm not giving him those eyes," she smiled.
"Good. Think I like those for me only," I admitted, slinging an arm around her lower back and pulling her up against me. I leaned down, sealing my lips over hers for a short minute before Felix made a knocking sound at the top of the stairs to warn us before he started down.
"Alright, princess, I can't cook, but I'm pretty sure I can chop things if you have anything that needs chopping," he announced, clapping his hands then rolling up his sleeves.
"Let's start small," Lyra said with a smile as she pulled away from me. "How about you try your hand a peeling carrots?"
"Oh, gee," Felix said, looking grave, "I don't know. That sounds like some serious shit right there," he added, lips twitching.
"I have faith in you," she said with a smile as she went to the fridge and started pulling out all the food that needed to be warmed or cooked entirely.
Then we all set to work to the sound of some pop-style holiday internet radio station Lyra put on her phone.
"Alright, go sit down," she declared as she frantically ladled gravy into a gravy boat a while later.
"Sure, we'll just grab..." Felix started to offer, picking up the basket of rolls she had just taken out of the oven.
But Lyra snatched it away. "No. Go sit down. I've never gotten to be a hostess before. Don't take this away from me," she declared, shooing him out of the small space.
"You gonna let me carry the bird?" I asked, nodding over toward the turkey that was a good fifteen pounds. I didn't know what the hell she was thinking when she picked that damn thing out, knowing she was only going to be cooking for herself. "I mean, I'm sure we could eat it after you end up dropping it on the floor, but maybe we can just avoid that."
She sighed at that. "Alright, fine. Take the turkey, but I want to bring over everything else."
"Whatever sets your panties on fire, doll," I said, smirking, picking up the turkey and
bringing it over to a dining room table I hadn't used in too many years to count.
I put the bird down on the table and took a seat at the head of the table, Felix to my right, practically bouncing in his seat. "This might be better than my original plans," he said. To anyone else, that would sound like nothing, but to me, who knew what a complete and utter obsessive workaholic he was, that meant a lot. "I haven't had a home cooked meal since I was a kid."
"Know the feeling," I agreed. "She's a good cook too," I added as she walked over with two big bowls- one of stuffing, the other mashed potatoes and set them down with a beaming smile. "Doll," I called when she moved to turn away to go get more, grabbing her elbow. "Got something here," I said, reaching up and swiping at a red smudge on her cheek. She watched me, eyes getting just a little heavy when I brought my finger back and licked the taste off.
"Oh, ah, right... thanks," she said, pulling free and rushing away.
"What was it?"
"Cranberry sauce," I said with a shrug.
"Nice."
"Yeah," I agreed.
Five minutes later, all the food was on the table, all our plates were loaded up, and Felix had taken it upon himself to say Grace- a long, wordy affair, making us all hold hands and shit, before we finally got to dig in.
"Come on," Felix said a while later, hand on his stomach. "You live in the City. I live in the City. You cook. I don't. I like to write my books. You like to read them. It's the perfect situation."
He had just proposed marriage to her.
Because the man apparently loved with his stomach.
"Tell you what," she said with a smile, her cheeks a little pink, obviously charmed, "anytime you need a hot meal or notes on a book, you can show up at my door."
"That's a deal. I have a feeling I will need lots and lots of notes on my books. Or maybe notes on my notes that I scribble about my books," he said, reaching for another scoop of mashed potatoes, despite the fact that he'd already had five.
I felt a strange stabbing of envy at their interaction. Not because the way she and I interacted was any less easy, but because he could make declarations like that. He could even follow through with them. I couldn't. For all the fuck I would know, the two could start dating and fall in love and get married and I wouldn't know about it until Felix eventually made another trek up to Coral Cabins.
And, well, that shit just didn't feel right.
As if somehow sensing my foul mood and what caused it, Felix turned to me as Lyra cleared the table, brushing off offers to help because 'this is how I've seen it in movies. The women clear the table'.
"I was just fucking around, man. I mean, maybe we'll connect back home, but the flirting shit, that was all for show. She's yours."
I snorted at that, shaking my head. "She isn't," I said, feeling the truth of those words.
In my bed, in my kitchen, in my house, I could pretend she was mine. I could enjoy her company and encourage her to follow her passions. I could taste and touch and feel her. I could have her for a short while.
But that was all there was for us.
She would leave.
She would go back to her life and she would let other men have her.
And, being that I wasn't some fucking saint, eventually, I would have other women too.
All we would have was the memory of that one time, that one Christmas, that one perfect happenstance that led her to me.
That was it.
And I had a sinking, God-awful feeling as I got up from the table, that it wasn't enough.
Eleven
Lyra
I was startled awake the next morning by the distant sound of the plows.
Really, it was far enough away that it shouldn't have bothered me at all, let alone made me wake up in a panic. But I shot up in bed, hand to my bare chest, listening to the beep beep beep as one of them backed up.
It was really over.
That was the first conscious thought I had as I sat there, my heart slamming in my chest, my stomach doing a sinking thing that I knew well enough to name it what it was- disappointment.
It was over.
We couldn't pretend we were stuck, nestled away from the rest of the world, enjoying a sweet, perfect affair because there was nothing else to do.
Reality was setting in.
I was leaving.
There was an aching feeling blooming across my chest and down my stomach at that, at the finality of it. Because we lived eight hours apart. There would be no booty calls, no dinner dates, no talking about books, no snowman building. The only chance I would ever get to see him again would be if I came back to Coral Cabins again. But even if I did that, what, would I pull into his driveway, knock on his door, and say 'hey, was just passing by, thought I'd say hi!'?
No.
Besides, what if he wasn't alone? What if he found someone and shared his perfect cabin in his perfect winter tundra and trimmed their awesome Christmas tree while having fake arguments then making love to the fresh falling snow?
I wasn't sure I could be faced with that.
For reasons I didn't want to examine, I found that idea too painful.
Better to leave it as it was- a beautiful, fateful experience, a Christmas to always be remembered.
On that, I slid the covers down, leaving me completely naked because after dinner and dessert and some chatting with Felix, Jack had brought me up to bed. And, maybe hearing the same clock ticking, feeling the same sensation of time running out, he had been rough and fast and wild at first then ended slow and sweet and perfect, making me have to squeeze my eyes tight against the emotions as I held onto him tightly a long time after, not willing to let go just yet. Then he had slid back in behind me, cocking his legs under mine, wrapping an arm around my center, and held me as we slept.
As was normal, he snuck out early. But not before putting another log on the fire for me. So I wasn't freezing as I dug around for my clothes, feeling a weight settle down on me as I climbed into panties, a bra, socks, jeans, and a plain black sweater. It was over. The holiday. My first perfect, amazing Christmas. My faux friendship with a world-renowned author. My affair with Jack.
Everything was over.
And after I stopped in the bathroom and made my way downstairs, there was even more finality to find there. Because the tree was down. The lights were down. The everything was down and re-boxed and re-bagged and it was such an unsettling thing that I felt a strong, almost uncontrollable urge to burst into tears again.
"You alright, princess?" Felix asked suddenly and I started. First, because I hadn't seen anyone. And second, because I had forgotten he was there.
"It's all gone," I managed, swallowing hard and shaking my head, trying to clear it, trying to compartmentalize all those feelings for a time when it was more appropriate to express them.
Like the eight hour drive home.
To my empty apartment.
Where I could express them all I wanted from here to eternity.
"Yeah," Felix said, watching me with his head cocked to the side. It was an invasive look. Not because it was sexual, but because it was still somehow penetrating. Like he was seeing right through me. "Jack didn't want you to have to do it all. The plows started working around two AM. It's cleared halfway up to Coral Cabins now."
"That's good," I said, forcing a smile and moving into the kitchen to get coffee.
"Yeah, if you want to be convincing with that shit, you're going to have to commit to it a little more."
I sighed, shaking my head. "That bad, huh?"
"Know Jack seems like a thick-skulled lumberjack idiot, but he's a smart guy. He notices things. He is going to be able to tell that you look like you're seconds away from crying. So unless you want to have that conversation, and I'm thinking you don't since it won't change anything, I suggest trying a little harder."
He was right.
Jack wasn't what he seemed at first glance.
He was sweet and giving and smart and capable.
I took a deep breath, blinked a few times, made an effort to ease the ache I felt in my shoulders, and gave Felix a nod. "I got this." There was another beeping sound, closer, making me look toward the front windows. "What's that?"
"Jack," Felix supplied. "He went down the hill."
"For what?"
"That beeping sound is, I imagine, the car he got to replace the one he wrecked."
Oh.
So it was over over.
I felt my belly twist painfully as I realized that it seemed suspiciously like he was rushing me out. He got up early to box up all my stuff. He went into town to get my car. I had several days of my vacation left. I could have maybe spent at least one last day.
But he didn't seem to want that.
"Well, that's that then, huh?" I asked, throwing back the rest of my coffee and putting the cup in the sink. After that, I threw on my boots, grabbed my hat and jacket, and headed outside.
"Princess..." Felix tried, but I shook my head and slammed the door.
And there was Jack, waving to a guy who was pulling his tow truck out of his driveway.
And there was my newish crossover as well. It was gray, nondescript, a few years old, but still nice. It was mine.
I had spent my whole life working, scrimping, saving, trying to make a decent life for myself. I paid all my own bills. I took care of everything. Then here was this nice car, infinitely nicer than the one I had been sinking money into for a decade. I didn't have to bust my ass for it. I didn't have to work overtime. I didn't have to cut coupons or cancel cable temporarily.
And I couldn't even be excited about it through the sinking feeling in my gut.
"Hey doll," Jack said, making me jump. When I looked up, his head dipped to the side. "You alright?"
"Yeah, just came out to see what's up," I said, wincing a little at the dryness of my tone.
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