Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Faina

Dear Santa, all I want for Christmas is for my hot holiday fling with the bad boy rock star to not break my heart. Is that too much to ask for? After we ate waffles and drank beers, I managed to get Dex back into the gondola and down the mountain, and then we walked around town for hours, holding hands and laughing and talking about not a whole lot.

It was the easy sort of conversation you have with someone when the words don’t stop flowing and you just seem to be on the same wavelength with practically everything. We went back to the house and had more incredible sex and then fell asleep, and I woke up sometime around four in the morning—hello, jet lag and time change—to find Dex wrapped around me like a vine.

After that, I couldn’t fall back to sleep, and by the time he woke, we had more sex and then had breakfast and went snow tubing down the mountain. We took lots of adorable selfies, and Dex posted them, but it doesn’t even matter. The world knows where we are, and any time we’re spotted out, that picture inevitably ends up online somewhere.

Thankfully, the press can’t get here. There is not a room at any hotel to be had, and as Dex previously tried and failed, there are no rentals either. Thank God it’s Christmas. Which is actually tomorrow, making tonight Christmas Eve.

I’ve been thinking that I should get Dex something, but I have no clue what. What do you get a rich rock star who can buy himself anything he wants?

“You truly want to do this?” Dex questions as we stroll through town. Light snow is falling all around us, and the air is a balmy thirty degrees compared to yesterday’s twenty.

“I do,” I tell him, beaming a big smile I can’t stop. “I haven’t had an excuse to cook a holiday meal in years, and it’s something I used to do with my mom when we were younger. Ava hated cooking, so she and my dad would go ice skating at the mall or something while my mom and I made a Christmas Eve feast.”

“I’m rubbish at cooking,” he admits. “I have a cook because otherwise, I’d eat nothing but carryout.”

“So you’re saying you won’t be helping me in the kitchen.”

“I’m saying you’ll be thankful that I don’t. But how’s this? I’ll buy all the ingredients, and a few bottles of wine and champagne, and perhaps a nice bourbon.”

I snicker. “That’s a lot of alcohol.”

“It’s Christmas, princess. That requires a lot of drinking, and we’re here through New Year’s, remember.”

“How can I forget,” I quip, though my voice comes out more strained than I intend it to. These few days with him have been the best of my life, and I know we have another week together, but I’m worried either a week won’t be enough, or it’ll be just long enough for me to get seriously hurt.

I haven’t even thought of Brooks since his last text the other morning, and I was with him for five months. Dex is consuming, and all-encompassing. He’s rewriting things inside me I haven’t given him permission to. It’s effortless and ridiculous with how fast it’s happening. Like I slipped into a time warp and suddenly I’m back in high school, and the only boy to occupy my thoughts is him.

“I’m not excited about that being the end of it either,” he says, his voice soft and his face turned away from me.

That takes me by surprise, though I don’t know why. Dex seems to say his thoughts as they hit his brain without much of a filter. It’s sort of how he leads his life too.

“You’re not?”

He turns back to me with a wary half-grin. “No. I mean, I’d rather not stay in the frozen Tundra past this week, but I’m not all that anxious to return to London.”

I want to ask him why not. I want to know if it’s because of his ex and the situation he left there, or if it’s because of me. I want to ask him that. But I don’t.

“I feel the same way about Boston,” is all I can manage because it’s the truth. I’ve been thinking a lot about this over the last couple of days, and while I love Boston, I’m thinking it’s time for a change. Possibly back to LA, or maybe New York, or… nope. Not going to even think about it.

“We don’t have to, you know.”

“Have to what?” I question as we enter the supermarket, and I grab a cart.

“Go back to Boston or London. We could go somewhere else. Together.”

My heart skips a beat, but I ignore it. “I have to figure out work for myself, Dex. I have some savings to tide me over for a while, but that’s it. I can’t just take off like that, and I certainly can’t travel around and blow through money.”

“You know I have loads of money, right?”

I roll my eyes at him as I start for the produce. “It’s always so hot when men brag about their money.”

“No, I mean, I can pay for us.”

I shake my head. “I can’t let you do that. It’s a sweet offer and part of me would love to say yes, but I can’t keep putting off figuring out my next steps.”

He frowns, but thankfully lets it go there. I find the romaine lettuce and then cherry tomatoes, all the while Dex watches me shop as if it’s a novelty he’s never witnessed before.

“What precisely are you making for us?”

“Grilled Caesar salad, herb-crusted beef tenderloin with horseradish sauce, truffle mashed potatoes, and Brussels sprouts. And something chocolate for dessert.”

He groans. “Careful, love. You’re tempting my heart through my stomach, and I’m a willing victim.”

Funny, he’s tempting my heart through my head, and I’m trying not to become a victim.

“Also, I might have scheduled a few things for us tomorrow.”

That catches my attention. “Oh?” My eyebrows meet my hairline.

“Right, so I had to pull a few strings, but I’ve secured us a spa day with massages and other fun treatments, and then a traditional Christmas dinner. Though by traditional, I mean American and not English, which hurts my soul, but there you have it.”

“Oh?” I repeat, this time putting a lot more inflection in my voice.

“Yes, and you’re not to argue with me. I might have also purchased you a dress for the occasion.” He leans down and smacks a kiss right on my lips. “I’m off to find the liquor. I’ll be back before you pick out dessert.” Another kiss, and then he saunters off, drawing the double-take of everyone he passes.

I slip out my phone and dial up Ava as I continue shopping.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my internet sensation sister who turned my holiday rental into a love shack.”

“I hate you.”

She laughs. “For someone having regular sex with the seriously hot Dex Chapman, you don’t sound happy.”

“Ava…” I trail off, not even sure what to say.

“Why are you setting limits?” she asks because she’s my twin and she knows exactly how my brain works.

“We both did,” I protest. “That’s the deal we made.” Until he had to go and offer to extend it.

“And plans change. Just look at me. I’m sitting in my PJs watching black-and-white Christmas movies while my poor guy is upstairs feeling like shit and trying not to give me his plague. He won’t let me in our bedroom. He’s legit made me leave his meals outside the door. I love him for it, but it’s Christmas Eve, and I miss him.”

“How are you not sick of him after all these years?”

“Because when you find your person, any time you spend without them is wasted time. I’m never sick of him.” She pauses. “Is that weird?”

“It’s pretty great actually. We should all have that kind of weird in our lives.” I walk along, leaning on the handle of the cart, picking up random items, and dropping them in.

“Faina, I’m not telling you to marry the guy, but you don’t have to be so dramatic and pragmatic when you can simply be fucktastic.”

I belt out a laugh, not even caring if anyone is looking. “Thank you. I needed that. And I’m trying. I am. I’m just…”

“Not built that way?”

“Exactly. You have Will, and you’ve always had Will, but it’s a minefield out here for the rest of us.”

“Wah. Boohoo, you have a gorgeous rock star hot for your poonani. Remind me to shed a tear while I cry for the dude in this movie who has legit problems.”

“You’re watching It’s a Wonderful Life again, aren’t you?”

“Shut up. You think you know me.”

“And I bet you’re also sitting in your Rudolph PJs, sipping a margarita, and picking at nachos and tacos you had delivered because you don’t cook.”

“I hate you.”

I cackle. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. I wish you were here. So you could make me food.”

“I’m in the grocery store now. I’m making Dex what Mom and I used to make every Christmas.” I start to get choked up and have to clear my throat.

“I’m super jealous. These nachos are soggy.”

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing worse than soggy nachos.”

“Straight facts. I’m in California. That should be outlawed.” She clears her throat. “Fai, he’s not a bad guy. He’s actually a great guy. Loyal and loving like a puppy dog. But like all puppies, he’s a bit wild and definitely a lot, and I know that’s not your typical flavor of jam, but give him a chance. He’s legit had a thing for you since we were kids.”

“Ava, you’re assuming he wants something beyond a fling.”

“I’m not assuming, Fai. I know he does. I also know you like him.”

I sigh. “What’s not to like? He’s tender and attentive and gorgeous and fantastic in bed and funny and witty and so sure of himself.”

“He can sing too. Did you know that?”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I knew that. He sings in the car while he drives, and he sings in the shower too.” It’s so adorable, I smile just thinking about it. And the way he kisses me or smiles at me with those dimples. And how he holds my hand everywhere we go or tucks me against him to keep me warm.

I have it bad for him, but that doesn’t mean it’ll translate into anything good.

I was looking for fun and excitement and to live, even for a little bit, without regret. I feel like I’ve been doing that. I’m happy. Hell, I’m having the time of my life. But there is no future with this.

“Already knowing his habits. How precious.

“Ava, please stop. It’s not helping me.”

“Ugh. Fine. Just… think about it. Don’t discount the idea of being with him for real simply because he’s an impulse dress you bought on a whim but so far aren’t daring enough to wear.”

“Huh?” M brows scrunch as I pick up a bag of Brussels sprouts.

“We all have that dress. That dress that’s a bit too tight, or reveals a bit too much skin, or is so not us we know we’ll never wear it, but we just had to have it. That’s Dex for you. Try it on, Fai. You might just realize it’s a perfect fit and so very you after all. I’m going to reheat my nachos, and refresh my margarita, and try not to cry that I’m not eating dinner with you. Next year. Love you.”

“Love you,” I force out and then slide my phone back into my purse. Because fuck, I miss my sister. And fuck, her words are slithering into places I’d rather them not gain access to. Only I force myself not to think about my sister’s romantic notions for me with her husband’s best friend. That’s all this is. Wishful thinking.

I continue shopping, and true to his word, right as I’m in the dessert aisle, he appears. “This one,” he demands, pointing to a tiramisu.

“You think?”

“Definitely. And just so you’re aware, I might have gone a bit overboard in the shop.”

I feign incredulous. “What? No. You?”

“I didn’t know what sort of wine you like, so I took a flyer with a lot of different sorts. And champagne. And I know Ava likes tequila, so I purchased some of that too because I wasn’t sure how far your twins thing ran.”

“It runs far and deep. I love tequila.”

“Can I lick it off your tits, and before you answer, it might be a fantasy of mine that’s never been realized.”

“Then obviously yes.”

His crooked smile lights up his face, making his dimples sink in and my heart swoon. “You’re my dream, you know.” He nails me with a kiss that leaves me winded, and then we walk about the store together, shopping as if it’s what we always do. He refuses to allow me to pay for anything, and then we’re driving home, and I’m stuck in my head, even as he sings along to whatever is on the radio.

The moment we get home, he helps me unload all the groceries, puts on Christmas music for me, but I don’t miss him retreating to the back of the house, sitting in front of the outdoor fireplace, and strumming on his guitar while I start making Christmas Eve dinner for us. I get lost in the task of prepping, cooking, and singing along.

It isn’t until I feel him behind me, his hands on my hips as I take the meat out of the oven, that I realize how much time has passed.

“You get stuff done?” I ask, setting the heavy baking dish on top of the stove.

“I did, actually.”

I twist over my shoulder and give him a big, beaming smile. “That’s great.”

“I wrote nearly two songs. I haven’t done that in such a short time in ages.”

“Will you play them for me?”

“Maybe later. They’re still too new in my head, if that makes any sense.”

“It does,” I tell him, returning to the meat. “I hope you’re hungry. I have enough food here to feed an army. We used to eat this on Christmas Eve and then have the leftovers for a few days. We didn’t have the money for multiple big meals, so leftovers were our thing.”

“It smells incredible.” His lips slither along my neck, and then he takes a deep inhale. “So do you for that matter. On a scale of zero to ten, how mad would you be if I got on my knees, bent you over the counter, and ate you instead?”

“Five.”

I can feel his smile. “So, not angry enough to stop me from doing it, but just angry enough to punish me for it?”

“Something like that.”

“Faina, put your hands on the counter.”

“Or what?” I challenge.

“Or I’ll make you.”