“Yeah. Okay.” I squished up next to him, snuggled in, and promptly fell asleep.
FOURTEEN
Kristen
The next morning I walked through the tree farm on the way back to the house. The sun was just up; it couldn’t be much past six in the morning.
I’d left Paul sleeping and wondered if he’d be angry for ditching him without a goodbye, but it was all becoming a little too much to handle.
I’d slept naked in his arms last night. It was among the many things I’d never done before, but had done with him last night.
I didn’t want to leave him, so I had to leave him just to make sure I could.
After all, as soon as I left Salt Springs, he’d start searching for the future Mrs. McCleer and I didn’t want that to hurt. As much as I feared it might hurt already.
When I got to the house everything was still quiet, which was a good thing. I didn’t know if Matt was staying in his old room. Or probably in one of the empty cabins at the inn, if I knew my brother. He preferred his space.
As much of a disaster as yesterday had been, I had to admit it was nice to see Matt again. Yes, to the world he was this great big hero hockey player, but to me he was, and always would be, my little brother who I got to boss around.
This week, having him around, it would be fun.
Quietly as I could, I made my way upstairs. Dad’s bedroom door was still closed so it didn’t look like he was up yet, which was good.
Although why, at thirty-six, I was worried about my dad catching me doing the walk of shame the next morning, I didn’t know.
Maybe because I knew I had a hickey. I really, really liked it when Paul sucked on my neck, so there was absolutely no hiding what we’d been doing all night.
If I had to guess, my dad would disapprove. He was a pretty free thinker, but he didn’t believe messing around should ever just be for fun. Or casual. It should only be if you thought you could be serious about that person.
Obviously, there was no chance that Paul and I would ever be serious. Our lives were going in two totally different directions. He was looking for the future Mrs. McCleer and I was searching for my next job. Or at least I would start seriously searching soon. I’d told myself it was okay to have a grieving period. The fact that it coincided with my dad needing me home was really just a great coincidence.
I should probably tell Dad about getting fired. That was probably too big a secret to keep to myself. I did feel so much more relieved having told someone what happened.
In my room, I pulled off my clothes, slipped on a robe, and headed to the bathroom to take a long, hot shower.
For hours with Paul, I hadn’t had to think. For hours, I could just be. For hours, I was just with him. Really with him.
Now I was back in my skin, back in my head, and already thinking about the list of things that had to get done today to pull off the Christmas Eve event that was happening in a matter of days.
And I was missing Paul already.
This was not good.
“I think I’m fucked,” I said aloud, even as I felt a tightness in my chest that felt like something super big. Something super important.
Then, because I couldn’t help it. “Sorry, Mom.”
* * *
Showered,dressed professionally, I was ready to tackle the day. I headed over to the inn and was happy to see some activity. It felt like there were more people milling about, which was good. Even as I stepped inside, I could hear the phone ringing. That was excellent.
I heard a voice saying, “Hello, thank you for calling the Kringle Inn. How can I help you?”
Excellent. Very professional. When dad told me Ethan had hired someone young to help after Rhonda left, I was worried, of course, that she wouldn’t be mature enough to handle a job like that. The customer experience at the Kringle Inn was important. And good hospitality skills were key to whoever was working the front desk.
That was the face our guests first saw. The first voice they heard when booking a reservation. At least I knew she had a professional tone.
Excited to meet Tiffani, I believed that was her name, I smiled and stopped dead when I spotted the woman behind the front desk.
