Christie Ridgway - Must Love Mistletoe

Grasping her hips in his palms, he heard himself demand an answer to a decade-old question: “Why the fuck did you leave me?”

Bailey lurched back against the couch, but there was nowhere for her to go, not with Finn still inside her, around her, staring at her with such dark intent. Her fingers bit into the cool leather on either side of her. “I…Now? No…”

He pulled out of her, standing up to stalk away, but he was back before she regained her wits. He threw a bathrobe at her, then stepped into a pair of worn jeans, the fabric split over both knees. “Now, yes,” he said, staring down at her, his arms crossed over his bare chest.

Behind him was a wide picture window, and through it, a spectacular view of the cityscape. Pretending a fascination with the glittering lights, she shifted her gaze away from him and scrambled into the huge terry-cloth robe, trying to buy herself some time. The soft fabric smelled like Finn, but that wasn’t any comfort as she belted it around her waist and then sat down again to draw her knees up under the fabric.

How could she explain in terms he’d understand and accept? She was going to have to make it clear-

Suddenly he let out a harsh laugh. “What a stupid question.” he said. “I’d been a screw-off for years. No wonder you dumped me.”

Her head jerked toward him. “It wasn’t about you. Not exactly, anyway.”

“So it was about you. Your feelings changed. I get it.” He turned his back, and went about the room retrieving his tossed clothes.

“It wasn’t exactly like that either!” Frustration caused her voice to rise. This wasn’t fair. Finn was fifteen steps ahead of her. She was still reeling from her rash decision to give herself an early Christmas gift and get naked with him, still bowled over by how good it had been between them…again, and he was already over it and ready to delve into their past. No-take that back. Now it seemed as if he was finished with that too.

She pressed her palms to her eyes. “Listen, I know we had made plans-”

“You were starting college in New Hampshire in September, but we were supposed to have the whole summer together.” He bent to grab his slacks. “The beach, trips into Mexico. You made a list.”

On the last day of his Christmas vacation at his grandmother’s. She’d sat in the circle of his arms, swallowing back the tears she always hid from him when he was leaving, as she itemized their upcoming summer adventures.

“But then right after high school graduation I was given the chance to attend an inter-session for incoming business majors,” she said. And she’d leaped at it.

“You didn’t write. You didn’t call. There was no good-bye.”

She jumped to her feet. Could he ever understand? “But don’t you see-”

“I see that we didn’t mean the same thing to you as we did to me,” he said, snagging his tie off a lampshade.

Bailey wrapped her arms around herself. “It could only have ended badly, Finn.”

He turned to stare at her. “What do you call how it did end?”

“Smart. Sensible. Okay, maybe immature in some respects, but I’d make the same choice today.” His look of disgust caused her stomach to churn. “You don’t get it.”

“Try me.”

With a sigh, she dropped back onto the couch. “It was going to blow up in our faces. If not in June or July or August, then in September. Or the next September. Sometime. I wanted to make a quick, clean break. Get out…get out before it got ugly.”

He made a quick gesture with his hand. “You couldn’t share this with me?”

“Wouldn’t you have tried to talk me out of the feeling…the knowledge? We thought it was magic, Finn. But there’s no such thing.”

He studied her for a moment, then, shaking his head, he started to laugh. “God, it’s rich.”

“What? What’s rich?”

“You always were smarter than me.”

Her scalp prickled. “What do you mean?”

“Ten years ago, I would have argued that very point with you. What else could it be but magic that brought together the bad ass and the golden girl next door?”

“Finn-”

“But I’m a believer now. A believer in your theory, thanks to the very fact that you walked out on me without a word.” Laughing again, he dropped his clothes to the floor and sprawled on the couch beside her, resting his dark hair against the leather.

He rolled his head to look at her, then groped for her hand, found it. Squeezed. “GND, I should be thanking you. And as a matter of fact, I do.”

His reaction curdled in her belly. “Finn…”

From somewhere in the bundle of clothes at his feet, a phone rang. The smile on his face died. His big body froze. “Fuck,” he whispered. “Something’s happened to Gram.”

“What? Your grandmother?”

He pawed for his cell. Flipped it open, brought it to his ear. “Jacobson.” As he listened, his tight expression eased. His chest rose, then fell as he blew out a breath. “No kidding. Terrific. Sure, I’ll go wake her up. You’re right. She’ll want to know.”

He was smiling again when he hung up. Grinning, actually, in such a carefree fashion that it seemed as if he’d forgotten they’d had sex. That they’d delved into ancient history. Or maybe it was that her answer to the Big Question had put their past to rest, just as Bailey had wanted it to.

“Well, what do you know?” he murmured, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Let’s get moving, GND. It’s a happy day.”

So why did she feel so lousy?

Bailey Sullivan’s Vintage Christmas

Facts & Fun Calendar

December 14

At Christmas, Greek children walk the street singing songs and playing instruments for treats or money. There are no Christmas trees, but gift giving occurs on St. Basil’s Day (January 1).

Tracy clutched an armful of glossy papers to her chest as she hurried toward the recycle bin beside the hibiscus hedge. She wanted them out of her house and off her mind. She wished the same thing for the man who had put them on the porch. Dan had left her, so now he should leave her alone!

She reached out to lift the plastic top, then froze as she caught sight of her neighbor, Alice Jacobson, on the other side of the hedge. Her heart gave a painful squeeze. Finn’s grandmother looked two sizes smaller than she had a month ago and she was walking with short, cautious steps. The elderly woman had a stack of newspapers under her arm and was heading for her own matching blue can.

“Alice! How nice to see you,” Tracy said, hoping her smile hid her dismay. “How are you?”

The older woman’s answering smile was still bright. “I’m feeling all right. How are you this beautiful morning?”

Tracy glanced around, for the first time aware that the morning was lovely. There’d been fog during her first cup of coffee, but the sun had burned it away, leaving blue skies and twittering birds.

She inhaled a breath of the clean air. “I hear congratulations are in order. A great-grandson?”

“Ten pounds, three ounces.”

Tracy winced. “Mom’s okay?”

“Hale and hearty. So is Miguel Finn Jacobson-Vasquez.”

“Oh, named after his uncle Finn. Cute. A big baby like that needs a big name.” Tracy shook her head. “Harry was not quite nine pounds and I thought he was a monster.”

Alice lifted the top of her bin. “How is our Harry?”

“Taking to college like a duck to water. I’m so happy for him.” As with all her friends’ living-away children, the cell phone kept them in amusing and constant contact. He’d called twice the day before. Once to ask if he could bake chocolate chip cookies in a microwave oven. The second time had been to relate in detail the storyline of a Family Guy episode he was certain she’d like. She hadn’t understood a thing about the TV show, but she’d laughed anyway. And later awarded herself a virtual medal for not nagging him about studying instead of watching TV.

“How about happy for you?” Alice asked, dropping her papers and shutting the bin. She rested her hands on top of the heavy plastic.

“Happy?” Tracy echoed. “Me?” She’d been working so hard on not feeling anything.

“I remember my daughter-in-law had a tough time when her youngest, Janet, went away to school. She said the house was too quiet.”

Tracy’s gaze shifted to the older woman’s hands. How frail they looked, the skin papery and the nails bluish. There were bruises on her forearms too. Tracy remembered how fragile her mother’s skin had become as she aged, the slightest bump causing a wound or discoloration.

She dropped the papers she carried on top of her bin to make a quick once-over of her own flesh. It was a little dry, maybe, but still unblemished. All the bruises were on the inside.

“It looks like you’re planning a trip.” Alice nodded at the colorful pamphlets spread out on the top of the bin. They covered the gamut from Las Vegas to Lichtenstein.

Tracy flushed and gathered them up again. “Dan picked them up at an agency.”

“Travel would be a lovely treat for you.” Alice beamed.

“I don’t think I’m much in the mood for a treat,” Tracy admitted. Then she thought of Bailey, whom she’d dragged back home as her second marriage deteriorated. And worse, whom she’d likely traumatized during the demise of her first. “And probably not deserving of one either.”

“Nonsense,” Alice said. “It’s time for you to celebrate Harry’s launch.”

Tracy shrugged. “Winter isn’t a good time to travel.” She didn’t want to admit that any trip she’d take, she’d be taking solo. Though it was probably all over town that Dan had dumped her, Alice was ill and maybe unaware of what was really going on next door.

“There are other seasons, Tracy.”