“Always happy to remind you of what a scumbag you were,” she says cheerfully. “You take care of my girl here, all right?” Fern points two fingers at her eyes and then at me in an I’m-watching-you gesture. Then she gives Valencia a peck on the cheek and returns to her date.
I sag against the bar. “Well, that didn’t go as disastrously as it could have.”
Valencia takes her seat next to me. “I thought for sure she’d call you something worse.”
I nod, but seeing Fern is a reminder of our pasts, and glaring proof that we don’t exist in an eggnog-and-sex-soaked bubble.
Rodrigo’s parting words from earlier come back to me.Just ask her.
Rejection isn’t a death sentence, right? At least, that’s what Ralph always says. I take a deep breath and blurt out, “What are we doing here, Valencia?”
She glances up, her brow creased in confusion. “Having thirty-dollar drinks.”
“No, I mean, us. What arewedoing? Together.”
Her expression turns guarded. “We’re working our way through our list.”
“And?” I need to know if she’s as invested as I am.
She toys with the thin gold bracelet circling her wrist. “I can only answer for myself. I’m here because I don’t want to be alone at Christmastime. I’m here because, despite everything, you’re funny and hot and great in bed, and we have a good time together. I’m here because we made a plan and it has been the bright spot in an otherwise dismal year, and I’m committed to seeing it through. Beyond that?” She gives a tired shrug, and finally looks at me. “I don’t know, Gideon. That has to be enough for now.”
Her words are like an icicle in my chest, cold and sharp and deadly, but I only nod. Sure, her response was layered incompliments, but the bottom line was clear: Christmas Eve is our termination date.
I open my mouth—to say what, I have no idea—but she pins me with a steely look. “I have a question for you, too.”
I can already tell I’m not going to like it, but she answered me honestly, and I can only do the same. “Shoot.”
“What does your therapist think about us?”
I cough. “While I suspect Ralph doesn’t think it’s the smartest choice, he hasn’t come right out and said so.”
She taps her lip in thought. “I figured he wouldn’t agree with you making a sex pact with someone you used to hate.”
I frown. “I didn’t hate you.”
“No?” From her tone, I can tell this has been bothering her. I meet her gaze and try to let her see everything I’m feeling so there’s no misunderstanding.
“Never. Not even when you had the nerve to get prettier and more brilliant every year.”
Her lips press together like she’s fighting a grin. “Fine. But what about now? What did you think when you saw me at the bar?”
“Fishing for compliments?”
“Only if you mean them.”
I lean closer, lowering my voice and sliding one hand up the back of her cherry red sweater to cup her nape. “I thought you had the sexiest fucking neck I’d ever seen, and that Icouldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so attracted to anyone. And even if you laughed in my face, I needed to talk to you.” I release her and sit back, but leave my hand at her waist. “And then you turned around.”
She laughs. “That must have been horrifying.”
Before I can say that it was probably the best moment of my life, the bartender plops our drinks down, and I don’t get the chance. Valencia insists we take a ton of photos, and when she’s satisfied with the results, we finally tap our glasses together and drink.
My eggnog is served in a wineglass with ice cubes and has a cinnamon stick floating on top. It’s creamy and strong and packed with holiday spices. We swap and I taste Valencia’s spiked cider—warm and tart—before I return to the topic at hand.
“All right, same question. What did you think when you saw me?” I’ve been wanting to know since the first night, and if all I have left with her are a handful of days, I might as well ask.
Her gaze flits over my face, soft as a caress. “That you’d grown up handsome. And there was ... I dunno, a vulnerability in you that hadn’t been there before.”
She always did see too much. Or maybe I’m not as good at hiding things as I thought.
