31. The Nutcracker Tabby

I wasn’t wearing a green dress this time. Instead, I wore a forest green tie. It would suit Jax’s dark eyes well in pictures, and I couldn’t wait to see how he’d be dressed. I imagined something similar to the oversized suit the last time we went to the ballet together, but the image in my mind of an anxious teenager didn’t fit with the man Jax was now. Growing frustrated with the fact that I’d purposely kept him at a distance for the past two weeks, I told my mind to shut up and stop trying to recreate him in my head. My imagination would never do him justice.

Tonight was the night I had to come clean. Waiting this long was a risk, and I couldn’t hold the secret in anymore. Wah deserved everything I could possibly give him, starting with the truth. I prayed he would be as understanding as he’d always been, celebrate with me, and we’d make love until we couldn’t move. Since he had experience with other men, I was excited to explore what he’d be open to.

Such was the plan, anyway.

I couldn’t risk him finding out too early in the night, so I opted for a pair of contacts that matched my tie. Cleaned up the edge of my goatee and chinstrap with my straight edge, taking more time than I’d usually need. Everything had to be perfect.

After every step through my apartment, I thought, How the hell am I going to tell him? Only one thing was certain: it would happen here. Safe at home. I could tell him not to kiss me on the street despite—oh, how badly I wanted to. But one kiss in a lie would be like spoiling ten more in truth. It had to wait.

Dammit.

A knock at my front door shook me to my toes. I puffed out a quick breath and stiffened my back. He’s here. This is it. Another chance with Jax, at last. After slipping on my favorite pair of sparkly black loafers, perfect for the special occasion, I opened the door and attempted to maintain the same suave air I had when I last saw him.

So much for composure. Oh, hell. I don’t stand a chance.

My posture failed, deflating into nothing the second my eyes fell on the ancient creation staring me in the face. The scarf—the last gift I ever gave Jax—prominently draped down his chest, peeking out from his also-familiar coat.

My jaw hung open while I stared. Our date shifted into a museum exhibit for my youthful regret.

“Hey you,” he said, absent the usual cadence that suggested we were friends. Instead, his breath lingered, as did his gaze, which didn’t break from mine for so much as a blink until I said something.

“H-hi.” As my strength wavered, faltering in his presence, I reminded myself that it wasn’t Jax’s job anymore to bring us together. It was mine. “Thanks for coming to get me. I hate driving at night.”

He hummed and nodded, then peered into my apartment. “Nice place,” Jax said with raised brows.

“Yeah. It is.” I grabbed my coat and kept him in the doorway. “I’ll, uh, give you the grand tour later. After dinner. Don’t want to be late.”

“Right. That works.” He fidgeted as if nervous at the idea of being let in. Both of us knew what would happen if we were alone. Neither of us said it, though. The truth swelled between us like sticky bubblegum, and if it popped, we’d both be in it for sure. Caution kept up the illusion that we’d take things slow.

“You have the tickets?” he asked.

“Tickets?” I squinted, half-forgetting why he came here. “Yes, tickets!” I rushed for the refrigerator and plucked them from the magnetic clip. “They sent them in the mail like in the stone age. Shit, I’m glad you reminded me.”

“I’m sure there’s a will call,” he said, not concerned in the slightest. Jax wanted to see me , not the ballet.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to find out the hard way that they don’t.”

“Have more faith—if we couldn’t do the show, we would’ve found something else to do.” Turning to the side, Jax offered me his arm. “Shall we?”

I locked the door and patted myself down, checking once more that I had everything before looping my hand through the gap at his elbow. “We shall.”

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W e were stricken with silence inside the car until parked underground behind the courthouse. Traffic left Jax stressed, and I opted not to distract him with idle chatter in my eagerness to speed the night up. The musty smell of exhaust bounced off the cool concrete walls as much as the sound of doors slamming shut around us. Once I closed mine, Jax eyed me from the other side.

I slipped next to him, knocking with my shoulder. He bumped me in return. We touched in progressive conversation on the elevator ride to the surface and over the striped lines of the crosswalk to the opera house. Outside, droves of people dressed to the nines congregated for the show. Flocks of small girls pranced in tutus and Christmas colors, throwing me back to memories of childhood when I despised dresses and putting my hair half-up in large bows. The view below of my festive shoes and well-fit slacks reaffirmed that my current aesthetic matched the person I was all along.

Jax stared up at the marble columns, admiring the beauty of the building, which echoed my view of him. The deepness of his chestnut eyes reflected the red and green lights flooding over the doors. His hair was tinged with the slightest hint of gray above his ears, proving his age and the passage of time. My Romeo, still beautiful, no less the man I wanted in my youth as I did now.

I took a step up toward the entrance and offered him my hand while time stood still. Please take it, Wah.

He met my gaze first and smiled, nearly blinding me with his brace-less teeth, so pristine and straight. His metal mouth of the past was worth the effort. When he took me, he did so with a confident firmness like his perfect handshake. His pulse beat against my palm. Our hearts alternated until we were in total sync. As one.

The crowd stalled again at the top of the stoop, leaving Jax and I to awkwardly wait our turn through the doors.

“You’d think people would know how to move forward,” I muttered. “There’s only fifteen minutes before the show starts. Why are they taking their time in the lobby?”

“I’m guessing...gift shop,” Jax said with a smirk, “which I’ll be stopping at, by the way.”

“You would.” I yanked him a little closer. “What’re you looking for in a souvenir?”

“I don’t know. Snow globe maybe. It’s still weird not to have—” He paused, looking up toward the new white lights crossing the front of the building. “ Snow .”

A black machine whirred on the balcony, sending a small flurry to everyone below. A manufactured spell, but no less endearing. I gasped along with him and felt oddly tearful.

“That’s amazing,” he whispered, reaching up for a few errant flakes. Distinct longing showed on his face, making his crow’s feet collapse into nothing.

“Are you homesick?” I asked, certain of the answer.

Jax took in a slow breath and exhaled at the same pace. As he did, he released my hand, then grasped again with our fingers intertwined. Closed his eyes. “Not anymore.”

I swallowed hard, and the people in front of us broke the traffic jam to get inside. We didn’t stop to look for snow globes. I hardly listened to the usher helping us find our seats in the orchestra section. Jax let kids bump into his legs and politely smiled at everyone, always bringing his focus back to me.

It was happening. The spark. Magic. Second-chance romance.

“You’re so handsome tonight,” Jax whispered as we sat, tickling my ear and making me shudder. A rush of euphoria, lift, and disbelief took me far away—to a dream, a star, an island void of responsibilities, where money and family and the past didn’t matter.

Keeping my hand tightly wound in his, I squeezed hard. “Nothing compared to you.”

The look in his eyes was unmistakable. He was moving closer. Aimed at my lips. Couldn’t escape. Three, two—

“Don’t kiss me,” I said, backing away a few inches.

Jax blinked a few times. “Huh?”

“Don’t do it yet. Please.” I gulped and brought his hand up, pecking ever so softly. “I want to kiss you, but not here. Don’t...don’t plan anything for it. Don’t sweep me off my feet, surprise me in the dark, or pull me in by my tie. None of that. When it’s time, I’ll say so.”

“I...I wasn’t about to kiss you, but I’m glad you said something.” He weaved through my hair. “I just wanted to say if you like to follow the music, it’s okay to let go. I understand some people like to do that.”

I sighed. Of course you would remember that I tapped along, too. Stuck with nothing else to say, I brought my focus to his chest and kicked my chin out at his scarf. “So...did you make this?”

The instant I said it, I screamed at myself. What the fuck? “Did you make this?” Are you insane?

He chuckled. “Nah, I can’t knit for shit.”

“Crochet,” I corrected, still berating inside. Shut up, shut up, you’re making it worse.

“Crobar? What?”

Goddammit, now I have to keep going. I pointed to a row and touched the loops. “The stitch—this is crochet, not knitting. Double crochet. Whoever made it used the yarns together. It’s irregular, but green and black are pretty classic.”

“Mm-hmm. Like your eyes tonight. And your tie.” He reached forward and pulled me close by the blade, now teasing me because I gave us a set boundary. Jax rubbed our noses together. “I can’t guarantee once you give the go-ahead that I won’t do exactly this, by the way.”

“Oh, Jax.” I huffed into his skin while the lights flashed for the show to begin. “Please do...when it’s time.”

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A t intermission, we toured the gift shops, and the second act buzzed by. We headed back to his car afterward, blending in with the sea of people as if the city’s second wind just began.

“I know a good place to eat,” I said, anxious to get back home but now more frightened of telling him the truth than ever. Stalling would only work for so long.

“So do I. Already planned for that.” He greedily held me close to his left side now, much more brave than I’d ever been in public with Rob or anyone else. Jax was fearless and showed me off. A few other couples eyed us with judgment while we passed, but Jax didn’t slow down or ease his grasp one bit.

The next car trip wasn’t long—merely twenty minutes, though I recognized the neighborhood well. “Union square? Really? You forget something at work?”

“Hey, gimme a little credit. You love Cheesecake Factory, don’t you?” Jax winked and laughed victoriously while pulling into a decent parking spot.

“I can’t believe you remembered that. But right now? Saturday night? It’ll take hours to get in.” I shook my head in incredulity but considered the longer wait to be a hidden blessing. “Happy to wait with you, though, if you really want to.”

“Hell yeah, I do. Come on.”

Jax and I tittered in the elevator to the top floor of the Macy’s and joked about the last time we were here. Once free of the metal box, we were greeted by an impatient herd of people who were dressed like us—folks on dates that depended on this part going exactly right. The tension in the air was palpable and made me clutch him tighter.

The hostess passing out beeping squares had a frazzled expression, as if she’d been forced to smile too long and her lips began to hurt. A rush of guilt hit me when it was our turn to ask for a table. If I had half a spine, we wouldn’t even be here.

Yet Jax wasn’t through impressing me just yet. “Reservation for Grady, please. Two.”

“Oh yes,” she said, trailing her finger down the page until she found his name. “It’ll only be a minute.”

“You made reservations?” I asked.

He smirked at me. “Of course I did. I’m not a complete idiot. This place is hard to get into on a Tuesday afternoon, let alone a Saturday night after a show.”

While the hostess walked away to fetch the server, I brushed my hand against his arm. “Jax—”

“Okay, you two, this way.” A tall young man, early twenties, gave us a beaming, picturesque smile and waved.

“Wait,” I said, bringing everything to a halt. “We, um. We don’t need to be seated.”

Jax stammered, “Tabby, what—”

“Just two slices of plain cheesecake. To-go, please.” I nodded at the waiter. “I’ll still tip you.”

He turned slowly as if waiting for another instruction, but eventually picked up the pace again. “Okay, I’ll be right back with that, sirs.”

I brushed Jax’s arm again. Too much time had gone by already. Getting through dinner would’ve been torture, and I owed it to Jax to come clean. “We need to get back to my place. Trust me.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Jax whispered, still stunned by my sudden change of plans. “Is it too much? Too fast?”

“No,” I laughed, caressing his cheek. “It’s nothing you’re doing, and nothing you did. I have my own plans in mind. I’m charming you tonight, remember?”

He turned three shades lighter for a moment, then came back to Earth. “Right. Whatever you say.”

Our order came and we rode the elevator down alone. A serious, suffocating fog replaced the flirtatious energy we had before. No turning back. It was fun, but nothing about our interaction felt like a first date. It felt like a hundredth date. A thousandth date. The kind of outing that resulted in a proposal and plans for the future, not the youthful try-out it would’ve been with anyone else.

“So, where to next?” Jax asked when we approached the car.

“You know where.” I firmly met his gaze before we opened the doors on either side. “Take me home, Jax.”