A Gingerbread Café Christmas. Rebecca Raisin
I’m debating whether to hold his hand when his phone rings. I force a smile on my face as he motions to the cell and walks back down the driveway. Who in the hell keeps calling him? I’m feeling about as smart as tree bark even entertaining the thought of going out with Damon. It’s as if I have a gift of picking men who want to break my heart.
Hold his hand? Goddamn it, girl. While I wait for him to finish, I head back to the bathroom and roughly wipe off the lipstick. Who was I trying to be anyhow? It’s just not my thing. My eyes prick with tears, and I wonder what’s got into me.
“Lil. Lil?”
“I’m coming,” I say with one last look at the girl in the mirror.
Damon frowns when he sees me. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Let’s go — we don’t want to be late.”
He goes to speak then changes his mind.
We walk to the town center, and Damon chatters away about inconsequential things. I nod, and say, “Mmm,” but my heart isn’t in it any more. I’m annoyed at myself for being upset. Joel, remember, you love Joel. But I begin to wonder if that’s true. Maybe I just like the idea of being married because it means someone loves me above all else.
“Have I done something to upset you?”
An awkward silence hangs between us, while I walk a pace ahead. “Why do you say that?”
“You seem distant, and before you were positively glowing.”
“I’m fine. Just tired. I might call it a night. I’ll introduce you round, then head on home.”
He catches up and puts his hands in his pockets. “Aw, what? What’s upset you, Lil?”
I pull my coat tight and cross my arms. “Nothing, it’s been a long day, that’s all.” There’s an edge to my voice and I can’t seem to disguise it. I hope I don’t start crying on account of this fool.
He slaps his head. “Was it the phone call?” Stopping in front of me, he holds my face and forces me to look into his eyes. Lowering his voice to a husky whisper, he says, “Was it?”
“The call? Don’t you mean calls? You sure are popular on that damn cell. Don’t you know that’s a lot of radiation going in your ear, right into that brain of yours?”
“Is that what’s bothering you, all the calls?” He looks truly concerned, but that doesn’t wash with me. Joel’s phone was ringing off the hook near on a month before he walked out. I know what this is.
“It’s nothing to do with me. Your phone is your business.”
“Lil, I’m not going to lie. I like you. I like you a lot. But there’s things you don’t know about me. And I was gonna tell you…”
“What? That you’ve got a girl back in New Orleans that you’re stringing along?”
He has the audacity to laugh. I glare up at him.
“No! There is no girl…well, there is a girl…”
Storming forward, I push past Damon, and head towards the town square.
“Wait! Would you wait?” he says, pulling me back by my elbow. “Let me explain.”
Feeling utterly stupid, I brush tears away with my sleeve. “You don’t owe me any explanation.”
He groans, looks up at the sky. “You’re making this hard.”
I open my mouth to respond and he leans forward and cups my face with those big hands of his. “God, you’re beautiful.”
Before I know it, he’s planted his lips on mine and I’m truly lost. Warmth spreads through me, while our lips collide. My body betrays me; my legs feel like jelly. My heart hammers against my chest as I pull him closer. I melt into him, and move my hands to his face, until my brain clicks back into gear.
There is a girl.
I step back, and glower at Damon. “What do you think you’re doing? You got a girl back home and you’re—”
“I sure do.” He’s grinning at me like a damn fool again. What is he playing at? He’s got this love-struck, goofy look on his face.
“Are you drunk?”
He touches a finger to his lips, as if he’s reliving the memory of our kiss before smiling at me again. “Come on, let’s walk, and I’ll tell you all about the girl back in New Orleans.”
I snatch my hand away when he tries to clasp it. “Shoot.”
“Her name’s Charlotte, and she’s as pretty as a picture.” He darts me a look that says wait. “She’s got these blond, itty-bitty curls, kind of like yours…”
“Get to the point, Damon. You aren’t exactly winning me over here.”
“She’s turning seven next month. Charlotte, or Charlie as I call her, is my daughter.”
A million thoughts flash through my mind, and I try to pluck one as they rush past. “Is that who keeps phoning you?”
“Yeah. I gave her a cell phone, and told her to call whenever she’s missing me.”
“She must be missing you a lot.”
He clasps my hand and I let him this time, as I brush a stray curl from my face. “And what about her mamma?”
“We were married, happily for a while. The plan was always to come back here, once we had Charlotte. This is where my family are from, and I like small towns. I want Charlie to grow up safe, to be able to run around till dusk without worrying something bad is going to happen. But Dianne won’t have it. She landed a corporate job, personal assistant to some bigwig, and everything we planned went out the window. Work took over her life — at least I thought it was work. Turns out Dianne was doing more than just typing for her boss.”
His expression darkens for a second, as if he’s revealed too much, my heart breaks for him: it really does. I know what he’s been through, and it hurts. It sounds just like me and Joel, except he’s got a baby girl to think about. “It must be hard not seeing Charlotte every day.”
“Harder than I could ever imagine. And you know, I could’ve forgiven Dianne — well, I would have tried to, for Charlie’s sake. But she’s changed. I don’t recognize her at all any more, and I know I can’t live that kind of lie.”
“What will you do? About Charlie?”
“She’ll be here the day after Christmas for a week, and I guess that’ll be it from now on. Holidays and weekends, and whenever I can convince Dianne to let her visit. Once Charlie’s older she can decide for herself where she wants to live.”
“I don’t understand why you didn’t stay in New Orleans, so you could be closer to her.”
He looks curiously at me. I get the strangest sensation, as if he’s come back here for me. But we didn’t even know each other. My heart starts to pound. I’ve been listening to CeeCee’s babble about second sight for too long.
“I belong here, in Ashford. And this is where I’m staying. Do you mind if I kiss you again?” Without waiting for a reply he bends and kisses me, so softly I swoon. I run my fingers through his too-long hair, and smile inwardly when they don’t get tangled. Maybe those bodice-ripper books are right, after all.
We break apart. “You are sweeter than sugar,” Damon says, his voice soft.
He gently kisses the tip of my nose and pulls me to him. I embrace his warmth, and love the feeling of his strong arms around me. I can worry about all kinds of things tomorrow, but for tonight I’m going to pretend he’s mine, and there are no other complications, and I’m going to enjoy it.
We cross the icy road and see practically the whole