Page 120 of Between the Lines

“How could I ever be disappointed with you?”

She carefully unseals the envelope, revealing the project I’ve been working on instead of dealing with my own finances. As she opens the card, her gaze turns inquisitive before her eyes widen, the blue brimming immediately with tears as she gasps, pressing her other hand to her throat and grasping lightly there for purchase. When she snaps her gaze to mine, waiting patiently with unguarded anticipation, I feel my heart pulse in my throat.

“Is this… Are you taking me on a trip?”

I nod, swallowing the intrusion so I can answer.

“Yes. It’s for spring break, since we will both have the time off, and Penelope won’t be as suspicious. The Airbnb has a big fireplace for you, and a window seat overlooking the forest. If we go into town, there are lots of bookstores and cafes. It’s far enough that we shouldn’t see any people we know. I wanted to take you out in public, but I wasn’t quite sure how. I know that you value quality time, so I thought this might be more valuable to you than a trinket. I’m sorry if I may have guessed wrong.”

I run my hand through my hair, then stare down at the book still clutched delicately in my lap. At the gesture I’m not sure I willeverbe able to repay. But Claire interrupts my train of thought with her lips pressed to mine, her tongue slipping in on a moan, her hands replacing my own to muss up my hair, as she gently peels the book from my lap so that she can situate herself there.

“This,” she says, then kisses me, “is thenicestthing anyone has ever done for me.”

I can’t decide if I should feel pride or sadness.

How has no one else ever had the privilege of offering this woman the whole world?

Instead of letting the intrusive thoughts consume me, I kiss her back, thanking her with my body because words can’t quite compare to what’s in my heart right now.

After starting in the study, and ending up in my bed, we lay in the living room, where the tree I always decorate with Cal is adornedsolely in white lights. She arranged the blankets and pillows right beside it and threw open the curtains on the picture window where a gentle snowfall makes this night picturesque. We’re lying in the quiet, after making grilled cheese and researching all that the vacation town has to offer. Claire made a note in her phone of all the restaurants and bookstores she wants to visit, then shared it to my phone.

“Why aren’t there any ornaments on your tree?” she asks, puncturing the quiet with her whisper.

“I’m a man of simple tastes,” I say. I don’t tell her that I wouldn’t touch the family ornaments this year without my brother.

Her hand scratches delicately over my bare chest.

“I like that about you. No frills. Just you and me. I don’t need anything else in between.”

She is shattering my foundation, and repaving it from the ground up. My head spins and my heart turns inside out. I’m falling quickly down a well, and I’m not sure what’s waiting for me at the bottom. Something tells me that I’ll be okay as long as I have her to help me out.

We remain there, on the floor of my living room, in the glow of the tree, as we talk about how we’ll spend the rest of our days together this week. All the while, Claire peppers me with kisses and little thank yous for planning a trip for her.

When she drifts off to sleep against my chest, I inhale deeply. Because somewhere inside of me, I know that I planned that trip for three months into the future because that means we willhavea future. I won’t answer the knuckles of Freud on the door to my subconscious, the ones toying with the idea offutureturning intoforever. It’s a dangerous thought, and an even more dangerous hope. Something I’ve learnednotto do.

So instead, I close the door in his face, saving that confrontation for another day. For now, I have Claire in my arms, and an uninterrupted week with her ahead. The future can stay exactly where it is. I learned a long time ago not to try to predict it.

forty-eight

claire

Playinghouse with Nathan during winter break is a book fantasy come to life. We’ve cooked together in his kitchen, read countless books, and blown through a ton of Netflix documentaries. He tried teaching me chess, but I gave up hope when I realized he’d never let me win.

We’ve had sex in almost every room of his house. The man has thoroughly exhausted me, and I’m not complaining.

We’ve talked, too. I didn’t realize how much we needed this—time tosharewithout being interrupted—until we had it. I don’t ever want to give this back. After a shower together, I’m laying in his lap in the study.

“I don’t know, I just… I feel like I barely know anything about you. Which, in retrospect, feels so silly to say, but like… What’s your favorite color?”

“Black.”

I snort.Typical.

I toss my head back, letting my curtain of hair hang over his lap and onto the floor.

“Come on, Nathan. Tell me something no one else knowsabout you.”

Suddenly, I’m being lifted. My heart pinches. I might not know him on a trivial, fun-fact-level, but I know that face. I’m already prepared for the chin grab. Maybe I do know this man better than I thought I did.

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