19. Evangeline

NINETEEN

EVANGELINE

T omorrow is Christmas. It’s supposed to be happy and joyous. I am those feelings wrapped in a nice bow, but also more. It’s odd to describe but I feel like I’m teetering on the cusp of love and heartbreak. It’s hard to put into words how I feel about Zane. I’m ecstatic he’s back while still being somewhat sad because we’ve missed so much. I’m sure people are wondering what I’m doing, allowing him to spend so much time with me, and there isn’t a doubt in my mind everyone knows he’s spent every night since the kids’ party at my apartment. The thing is, now that I’ve had him in my space, I don’t want him to leave.

It's unhealthy, this obsession I have. It’s like my body and mind are battling for what’s right, wrong, and not meeting in the middle for compromise. My subconscious wins a lot of conflicts, mostly because memories are a shit thing when you’re trying to forget and move on. One touch from him can spark a barrage of emotion and flood my senses of times when we were together, but the ugly creeps in, and I see nothing but him leaving on the train and never returning. Those feelings I had for months after he left have never gone away. They’ve been buried.

There have been times when Zane is sitting next to me and we’re sharing a bowl of popcorn, I find that I want to take the porcelain murder weapon and crack it over his head for what he’s done. And then, I look at him, really look at him, and remember how earlier before we sat down, he pulled me into his arms and apologized. He tells me every day, multiple times a day, how sorry he is for messing everything up.

It's not all his fault. Especially after he told me about his phone call with Caryn. I wish I had been there with him, to console him after she told him how she manipulated their lives. Who does that sort of thing? She could’ve destroyed Zane if he hadn’t decided to visit when he had.

The fact that her father did her bidding makes my stomach roll. Had Zane never gone to the job fair or maybe if I had gone with him, this might not have happened. We’d be married by now and possibly parents. Our lives would be so different.

I glide the scissors through the wrapping paper and then fold the sides in, placing tape on the flaps. When Zane told me he told Caryn to pretty much keep his clothes, my mom and I drove over to Albany to the mall and went on a mini shopping spree. His Christmas is going to be like he’s ten years old again and getting a whole new wardrobe. I’m sure after he opens his second pair of slacks, he’ll be a moody child waiting for the coveted video game he asked for.

After adding a ribbon, which I know will slow Zane down when it comes time to open his presents, I move on to the next. There are two stacks for him. One will go to my parents, while the other will go to his dad’s. It’s important for him to have some time with his dad on Christmas morning.

Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas” plays through the portable speaker in the office. Most of the time, Noelle’s in charge of the playlist, but from Thanksgiving until Christmas, there is only one possible sound we will listen to. It’s a good thing she likes the holidays as much as I do, or she’d probably want a new job.

Tomorrow is Christmas and I plan to take the rest of the week off to chill. I gave Noelle the week off as well, with pay, so she won’t have to use vacation time. I was going to use the I’m week to figure things out where Zane is concerned. But I already know how I feel.

From the moment I saw him at the farm, I knew I was still in love with him. It would be so easy to just say to the heck with it and throw caution to the wind. It’s what I want to do, despite being worried about what others might think. I don’t want to have to defend myself. And Zane shouldn’t have to either. There isn’t a doubt in my mind Zane and I are meant to be together. But also, I have to ask myself if I’m enough to keep him here. I wasn’t enough for him before .

He's here now and hasn’t gone back. That should be enough.

It is enough.

He’s enough.

I finish wrapping and take the gifts to my car. Now that I’m done selling trees and delivering goods to the fine people of Deer Ridge, I’ve gone back to driving my Santa Fe. It’s a bit more practical, but not as fun. Or as noticeable. Everyone knows what the Reindeer Ridge truck looks like.

As soon as I get back inside, I shiver from the cold and kick my snow covered boots off. There’s one gift left in my apartment with Zane’s name on it. I carry it to the tree and place it on one of the branches. We didn’t talk about exchanging presents. I think he might wonder if it’s too soon. Him being here is the only gift I want.

The apartment door opens. I tilt my head toward the sound of Zane coming up the stairs. It’s been a week of him staying with me and I’ve already memorized the way he climbs the stairs. I turn as he reaches the landing, his bright grin greeting me.

“Hey,” he says as he comes toward me. With no hesitation in his steps, he’s in front of me with his lips pressed to mine. His hand cups my face, holding me at the perfect angle for his tall frame. My hand grips his wrist, more for control than anything when his tongue touches mine. I whimper, needing more, but not willing to go there yet.

Zane pulls away, even though I don’t want him to. He rests his forehead against mine and sighs .

“Hi. Did you have a good day?”

His laugh is light. “I did. I made the last delivery, made sure my dad locked up and got home safely, brought in a load of firewood, and told him I’d see him later.”

Hearing him do all of this warms me. This is the life we had planned and the little glimpse into it fills me with such happiness. We were given a second chance and I refuse to squander it.

I reach for the small box resting on the tree branch and hand it to him.

“What’s this?”

“A little something.”

Zane takes my hand and leads me to the couch. “I have something for you,” he says as we sit down. “It’s at your parents already.”

“Did you go over there today?”

He nods as he holds the box in his hand. “Your mom made me test the pumpkin pie she baked.”

I nod slowly and give him a questioning look. “Made you, huh?”

Zane shrugs. “Pie tasting is a hardship.”

“Riiight.” I motion toward the box. He unwraps it slowly and holds the black velvet box in his hand. His jaw tightens, making me wonder why he’s stressed about what could be in the box. “Open it,” I whisper.

He slowly lifts the lid. A tear falls down his cheek and I wipe it away. “I had a feeling it was a key when I saw the box.”

“Am I that transparent? ”

“No,” he says, shaking his head while never taking his eyes off the set of keys.

“This one.” I take the keys from the box and hold the gold one up. “Is for the office. If you’re still interested, I’d love for you to come work with me.”

“I accept.”

I smile and then hold the silver one up. “This is for the apartment.” My voice is quiet. “I believe in soul mates and know you’re mine. Having you here again has been eye opening. You’re the only one I’d ever want to be with, Zane. Would you like to move in?”

He doesn’t give me a verbal answer, but one with his lips pressing against mine. His tongue occupies my mouth, tangling with mine. Zane’s arm wraps around my waist and he lifts me effortlessly. My hands clasp behind his neck as his hands cup my rear. His long stride has us in my room within seconds.

Zane gently lays me down on my bed and rests on his elbow, hovering over me. “I want to live with you,” he says as he brushes my hair away from my face. “I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to come back to you.”

My hand cups his cheek, my thumb rubbing away his tears. “I forgive you, Zane. I know it wasn’t your fault.”

“I feel like?—”

“It’s done,” I tell him. “We are here now. Nothing else needs to matter.”

He nods, but I see the torment in his eyes. He needs me to trust him. To love him like before. My fingers brush through his hair. “I love you.”

“I love you. I’ m?—”

I shake my head. “Don’t. No more apologizing.”

“K,” he says. He starts to move off me, but I hold him there, feeling him through my clothes. My hips flex, getting his attention. His brown eyes light up with wonderment.

“Eve,” he says my name with a hint of lust and warning. All week we’ve acted like teenagers unwilling or scared to take things to the next level. Honestly, I never knew grinding could be so erotic and satisfying.

My fingers brush along his side, snaking up his shirt. His flesh is warm and soft. Zane sits back on his knees and pulls the neck of his long-sleeved henley over his head, baring his chest for me. My mouth waters at the sight of him and I realize my memory has not done me justice. He’s sexier than I allowed myself to give him credit for.

Zane’s strong hands rub down my thighs, massaging, gripping, and grabbing at my jean covered flesh. I undo the button on my pants and slide the zipper down. He watches and the look he gives is one of question as his hands clench the waistband.

I nod and lift my hips, allowing him to pull my jeans away from my body. They go flying over his head, and while comical, I hold back my giggle.

His hands are back on my legs, his thumbs ghosting dangerously close to where I want him. To where I need him to be. Fingers dig into my flesh as my hips rising, urging him on.

“Can I take off my jeans?”

“I think you should.”

He’s off the bed in a flash, tugging his pants off. I sit up and remove my shirt. Zane’s on me before I have a chance to take my bra off.

“I’ll do it,” he tells me as he leaves a blazing path of open-mouthed kisses from my neck to the outline of my bra. “It’ll be another present. One I want to unwrap and savor.”

I let him control the pace at which we do this—be with each other for the first time in years—in how we make love.