Page 45 of Stuck With My Christmas Crush

“What now?” I say releasing my hold on Jason. My hands slide from his neck to his chest where he covers them with both of his as he steps away from me.

“Well, I said that I didn’t remember you from the little girl’s party in the summertime.” I feel Jason’s heart beating fast.

“Okay.”

“And I didn’t want to admit to it before because…” He shakes his head and looks at the ground. “I’m an idiot.”

I don’t say anything but wait for Jason to explain.

“I’m an idiot, Charlie. I didn’t want to admit to myself, or anyone, that I’d been so captivated by a pink fairy.” He laughs then holds my hands up to his lips. “When I saw you at that party, you were so beautiful. It’s hard to explain. But seeing you all sparkly with glitter and pretty wings, well, you were the opposite of a war zone. That’s the only way I can tell you.” Jason pulls me close. “I haven’t allowed myself to feel in such a long time. It’s as if I had forgotten how.” He kisses the top of my head. “But then suddenly, I saw a pretty pink fairy on a hot summer’s day, and…” Ipull away to look up at Jason’s face in the shadows. Then my fingertips touch a glistening tear on his cheek. “And there you were, again, at my gate in the storm, and my heart just melted. You got to me. You really did, Charlie.” Jason presses my fingertips to his lips. He clears his throat and then continues. “I didn’t want to give in to my emotions. Being detached is how I get through. We’re trained to block out anything that prevents us from doing our job. In conflict, emotions make a man weak; emotions get in the way of effective decision-making; emotions blur clarity of thought. But I’m not in the military anymore. I don’t need to be on high alert, always assessing risk and danger. Being here, and meeting you, I realized something. I guess I’ve had the time and space to think.” Jason laughs. “Charlie. When you came to see me, after the storm, you showed me that I’d been carrying conflict around inside me. Now, that was something that hit hard. But I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t need to do that anymore.” Jason holds up his wrist displaying a digital readout. “I don’t want to be that guy who only knows he’s alive because an electronic device on his wrist shows a green check mark. Ha.” Jason takes a deep breath. “Charlie. Can you help me? Can you help me relearn how to feel?”

“Alright,” I say smiling as I stroke Jason’s handsome face. “If it snows, do you think you can make a snow angel?”

“I can try.”

“Well then. You don’t need me to show you how to feel,” I say quietly taking Jason’s hand. “You’re already there.”

Jason is about to kiss me again when there’s a noise nearby and Rocko barges his way between us to be first to go inside.

“He knows it’s dinnertime,” Jason says as he ruffles the big dog’s ears. “Don’t you, boy?” Jason entwines his fingers with mine as he opens the door to the warm and cozy tiny gatehouse.

Chapter 23

Jason

One year later

Charlie finds me in the living room putting the last bottle of chilled champagne into an ice bucket. As she reaches up to straighten my bow tie, I snake my arms around her waist and kiss her neck which makes her giggle. I love the way Charlie giggles.

“Stop. Stop. Stop,” she says, pulling away and wrinkling her nose. “Guests will be arriving soon, and you’ll smudge my lipstick.”

“Let the lipstick be smudged,” I growl kissing Charlie’s neck again. “I want to kiss you.” Charlie giggles some more as I squeeze her tight and breathe in her perfume. “I can’t get enough of you, woman.”

It’s hard to believe that it’s been a whole year since I showed my business partners around the dilapidated mansion. The process has been a wild and rocky ride, but the results are absolutely worth the effort. And having Charlie here by my side has made every day a fun adventure, with lots of smoochy kissing.

Charlie, Lou, Calvin, and I decided it would be wonderful to have a New Year’s party, to thank all the people who have helped us get the hotel ready for guests. It has taken most of the year to get the renovations up to scratch and certificates of compliance; to meet all the criteria so we can start operating.

One of the most taxing elements of the lengthy process was writing a detailed business plan and proposal with five years of predicted figures for the bank loan I needed. So, I’m mortgaged up to my neck. And I owe friends and family for a whole lot of extra bills that weren’t factored in, and I didn’t see coming. But the hotel is fully booked for summer, and we are featured as the ‘funky new’ venue in ‘Wedding Quarterly’, for ‘trendy hipsters in search of unpretentious shabby chic’, whatever that means. Charlieassures me it’s a good thing, and the publicity should help fill up the calendar for the rest of the year.

According to these figures and projections, I calculated, that I should be debt-free by my ninety-sixth birthday. That could be a little exaggerated. And if I think too much about it, I get scared and overwhelmed by what I’ve taken on. But it’s what I’m doing now. And I’m happy. I’m with the best people who are with me one hundred percent and believe in the business as much as I do.

I look around the living room with a glowing sense of pride, then I attempt to kiss Charlie again, who looks irresistible in her sparkly vintage dress and heels. But my amorous advances are interrupted by Calvin and Lou who walk in, hand in hand, looking every inch the glamor couple from the hotel’s heyday. The theme of the party is the 1930s, and guests are instructed to come as if they are starring inThe Great Gatsby.

“I don’t know who’s coming,” says Lou, “But honestly, I don’t think I care if no one else shows up. We are going to have the best time.” She links arms with Charlie.

“You look incredible,” Charlie says, admiring her friend’s black and white zigzag sequined dress with matching ostrich feathered headband. She’s wearing elegant long black gloves, false eyelashes, and bright red lipstick.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Charlie.” Lou blows a pouty kiss. “And Jason. You look quite the handsome gentleman in that tuxedo.”

Instinctively I tug at my collar that seems too tight.

“Champagne anyone?” I say as a distraction.

I pour out four flutes of light golden effervescence and raise my glass in a toast. “To us. The mansion. To what we have achieved. And to our future.”

“Don’t say any more,” says Lou dabbing a gloved finger under her lower eyelashes. “Or I’ll get emotional and that will be the end of this makeup that took an age.”

We sip our bubbly wine, and I admire how fragments of light from the mirror ball dance around the walls and ceiling as it spins. Colored fairy lights festoon the walls and hang loosely on the ornate picture frames. The sound system plays popular jazz tunes of the era, put together by Charlie who says that there are some dance tracks scheduled for later. The gramophone is on show, but we decided it was too fragile to use.

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