Page 13 of Merry Kissmas

“Definitely not ideal.”I look at the board, and it says we’re boarding in twenty minutes.“Can I leave my carry-on here?I’m just going to run and grab some gum and maybe find a book of my own.”

Kenzie waves me off.“Yeah, I’m not chancing moving this kid until we’re on the plane.”

“Thanks so much.”I stand and head to the closest store.

I weave through the throngs of people feeling like a salmon swimming upstream, and I’m about to step into the store when a big body darts in front of me.

“Oh, sorry.”The crisp English accent is way too familiar, and my stomach clenches.

I lift my head, and sure enough, it’s fucking Pierce.

“This is beyond coincidental at this point.Shouldn’t you be in the international terminal?”I swivel to go around him, but he grabs my wrist, stopping me, causing a woman to huff and swear under her breath as she weaves around us.

“Wait,” he says.“How did the interview go?”

I raise my eyebrows.“How did yours go?”

“I didn’t know,” he says as if I thought he did.

“Obviously.”

He stares down at my wrist, his thumb running along the inside right before he drops it, and my arm falls to my side.“Listen.”

I see it in his eyes—he’s going to broach the subject when I really wish he’d leave it in the past.“It’s okay.I know you’re sorry.”

“No,” he says.

“You’re not sorry?”

“No, I am.Of course I handled that entire situation like a complete prat, but I mean, I wondered if…I’m in America until after the new year and wondered if perhaps I could get your phone number.Before I return to London, I could fly to see you.”

My eyes widen.“Why?”

A man in a business suit stares us down, and Pierce apologizes, grabbing my hand and guiding us next to the wall where we aren’t in people’s way.It’s an effort to pretend that I don’t like the feel of his skin against mine.

“You know why.”

“I don’t.It’s been six years, Pierce.Why now?”I’m on social media.If he wanted to find me before now, he could have.

I know the answer, though, because it’s the same with me.I tucked him in a box.For me, it was my time in London.He was a memory, a moment in time I’d always remember, but never willingly revisit.

“Seeing you again?—”

I shake my head.“I’m not that same girl anymore.The girl from that night doesn’t exist.So, I can give you my phone number, and you can come to Portland, but the version of me you’re remembering doesn’t exist anymore.”

He huffs out a breath, and his green eyes meet mine, scouring for the truth of my words.“I’d like it anyway.”

“Pierce…” I search the walls for a clock.Any excuse to get out of this conversation.“My plane is going to board soon, I have to get some gum and?—”

“Give me your phone.”He holds out his palm.

I tip my head back.Why is he making this so hard?But he doesn’t lower his hand.I dig into my purse, enter my password into my phone, and hand it over to him, though reluctantly.I can always block him if he tries to reach out to me.

He thumbs around with it, then places it in my hand.“There.Maybe it’s Christmas.Maybe it’s the magic of the holidays, although I’m not big on them.Maybe we’ll never be in contact, but I can’t get on my plane knowing that I was too chickenshit to get your phone number.Somehow, knowing I’m only the press of a button away from hearing your voice calms me, even though neither of us may ever use it.”

I put my phone back in my purse, trying to appear as unfazed as I can, but I know I’m losing the battle.

He leans forward before I can stop him, his lips to my cheek.“Merry Christmas, Brynn.I hope Santa brings you whatever you asked for.”

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