Chapter 36

ChapterThirty-Six

Sadie

I stir to the scent of coffee and bacon.

Rolling over in Nick’s bed, my eyes land on his empty side before sliding to the open door of his bedroom. I feel a dull throb, and it hits me then—the ache between my legs. The reminder that he was there, that he was inside me.

The memory of his hands on my body, his mouth on my skin, him inside me—thrusting, owning and completing me—floods me with warmth. Pinpricks of warmth erupt across every inch of me, flushing my skin red with renewed want.

I shift again, smiling to myself.

I had sex last night. With Nick.

And he was amazing.

It was everything I dreamed it would be and so much more. Because I didn’t feel like it was just our bodies connecting. I felt like it was our souls. Like that moment in time was always intended to come to pass. Like it was written one thousand years before we ever came to this place, predestined. A Christmas miracle.

I remember sitting with Katie after her first time in high school, my arm slung around her shoulder as she cried tears of regret. The boy had taken her innocence and broke her heart the same day.

She vowed then and there to never let that happen again.

That vow was the power behind the independent, need-no-man woman who never let her heart get touched by anyone. Ever.

Body, sure. Heart? Not a chance.

I never wanted to be like that. I wanted the soft, enduring love that Mom and Dad had. The kind of love that grew rather than waned. And I held out for it with stars in my eyes and a naïveté that could have destroyed me.

But I think that this love I have with Nick is that kind of love. The kind that’s all about stars and wonder, endurance and growth, passion and commitment. It’s powerful and true.

I know, it’s faster than I ever imagined love could be. And yet, I don’t feel that it’s too fast. I’m entirely content in this moment in my life. I am entirely content with the thought that I could give this man my life.

That I could devote myself to him, to us.

I stretch, tossing my arms above my head, my toes dipping to the footboard. That ache spreads in my body as though I ran a marathon rather than just had sex. Still, I’m happy I feel this. Without this ache, I don’t know that I’d believe last night was real. Even now, it seems like a dream. A wonder.

He consumed me. Devouring me. He was over me and in me, owning me.

I giggle under my breath, feeling giddy as I push up to see my discarded nighty on the floor. It’s torn quite literally down the middle, and I’m not bothered in the least. The thing had been crazy expensive and even though there is no fixing the damage done to it, I’m keeping it all the same. It’s a memento of this night.

As I pluck it from the floor, the lacy material soft in my hands, I hear a loud meow from the hall. My eyes shoot to the open door as a flutter of nerves spill free in my chest because I’m standing in the middle of Nick’s room in the light of day, naked.

Thankfully, Claus is the only one to enter. He sees me and trots over for a scratch and another long meow before he moves to curl up on Nick’s bed. I tuck the torn nighty into my suitcase that is open on Nick’s floor, the top leaning against the wall, before I skip into the bathroom. I stand naked before the mirror, looking for signs of lost innocence, for change. But there is nothing. No fingerprints lingering on my skin. Nothing is surface level because everything is so deep. Nick touches me so deeply, I’m sure he’s branded his name on my heart. Scoring his essence into my soul.

I don’t bother showering before I dress in my Christmas pajamas. They’re an adorably printed flannel pair I’ve been saving for today with tiny Christmas trees alternating with precious blue snowflakes between stripped lines of tan, green, and blue. Then I shove my feet into puffy cream socks and beeline for a purring Claus.

“Merry Christmas, sweet boy.” Claus pushes his head into my fingers, and I giggle low for him.

Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. The scent of pine and cranberry and spice, the warmth of a fireplace, and a hot citrus turkey in the oven do me in. Not to mention pumpkin and apple pies, cookies and tiny cakes. Platters of meat and cheese, wine. Friends and family and laughter and warmth…

Really, everything to do with Christmas day has always brought me so much joy until my parents passed. The years after their death had been agony.

But this year feels different. This year feels hopeful and joyful again.

I’m excited for today.

As I turn away from Claus to head for the door, I hear little paws trotting behind me. As I near the kitchen, Claus shoots ahead, knowing I’ll give him the goods from the fridge. The pudgy little kitty is a wet food fiend.

The thought of giving Claus his wet food vanishes as I catch sight of Nick at the stove, finishing up the bacon.

I don’t think as I cross the space between us, circling my arms around his waist and pressing my cheek to his back.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, sunshine.” He turns in my arms, pulling me tightly against him. “How are you feeling?”

Heat stings my cheeks, but I don’t look up at him. I just assure, “Perfect.”

“Good.”

I pull away and dance to the fridge where I pull out a can of wet food for a protesting Claus, slapping a heaping spoon down in his bowl.

I don’t look at Nick as I turn to put the can back in the fridge. “So, what do you usually do today?”

“On Christmas?”

“Yeah.” When he doesn’t answer immediately, I turn to look at him. He lifts a shoulder, giving me a little shrug. “I usually go to my mom’s. Christmas is a big thing for her. It always has been.”

“Oh.”

I don’t know why this surprises me. But it does.

Why would she scheme for me if she had him on Christmas? I’d thought she said he didn’t come for Christmas since his accident.

“You’ve been going since the accident?” I hesitate to ask because I know he doesn’t like to talk about the accident. But I have to know.

“Yeah, of course.” His brows pinch. “Why?”

“I just thought you didn’t go anymore.”

“I don’t go for long. Dinner, that’s about it.” He slides bacon from the pan into a bowl. “But I go.”

“Did you use to go longer?”

“Yeah. I’d always spend the day there.”

“Why did you stop spending the day there?” I ask, hearing nerves in my voice as he comes closer. His hands come to either side of my face, and he peers deep into my eyes.

“It’s hard to be around people who want to be happy when you don’t want to be happy.”

My heart aches. “You didn’t want to be happy.”

“No,” he admits. “But I do now.”

My heart flutters and his eyes flick down to my lips like he might kiss me. But he doesn’t. Still, my breath catches and my lips burn as hope sears in my chest.

“Why?” I think I know the answer, but I want to hear it from him.

“You.” He takes another step, closing the already small distance between us. “You make me happy, Sadie. You make me want to be happy.”

I squeeze my eyes closed against the emotion that burns at the back of my eyes. I can’t help myself as I engrave those words on my brain, etching them into my heart.

“Do you want to go to your mom’s today?” I offer, even though we kind of already talked about our plans for today. I told him about my citrus turkey, and we were set to have a slow, easy day. But if he wants to be with his family, I want him to have what he wants.

His thumbs sweep my cheeks before he tucks my hair behind my ear. Softly, his eyes never leaving mine, he asks, “Is that what you want?”

I say nothing, but I shake my head.

He nods. “Then we won’t go.”

“You’re okay with staying here?”

His mouth tips up. “Are you making turkey?” I nod. “And mashed potatoes?” I nod again. “Gravy?” I bite my lip and his breath hitches, but he continues, “Pie?”

When I nod again, he tips his head forward and slants his mouth over mine. He kisses me hard and deep and hungrily. “Then we’ll stay here.”

When he pulls away I smile, totally, completely, ridiculously drunk on him.

“Okay,” I agree.

He releases me to go to the stove. “How do you want your eggs?”